My Week with Sesame Music by Kynan Barker April 22 - 26, 2002
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[ A note from Danny: This week's My Week column is written by my new Deputy My-Weeker Kynan Barker. Yeah, he's a substitute, but he's fab, so I don't want you kids throwing spitballs and forging hall passes just cause my back is turned. He's brought a box full of Sesame CD's, and he's ready to party. You're in good hands. ]
It wasn't quite a bet, but it was a challenge, and one I didn't want to back down from. I had just brought a new Sesame Street CD home, and, in a burst of misplaced Muppet enthusiasm, I tried to play it for my housemates. This is why Muppet fans shouldn't try to live with regular people. I share a place with two others, both regular people -- let's call them "Tim" and "Helena," because that's what their names are (although in real life, they very rarely wear quotation marks).
Tim is a wide-eyed student of life, and also a teacher, so he's supportive of my Muppet habit. Helena, on the other hand, like most regular grown-up people, doesn't bother with "kiddie stuff." Thing is, her definition of "kiddie stuff" is pretty broad, encompassing any early-morning TV show that doesn't have a weather person and/or advertorials for hair removal cream, and extending to anything with Muppets and even the Toy Story movies. Which pretty much means she doesn't bother with any of the things I'm interested in. (This is fine. I mean, we get along great and we still have things in common. We are all Earthlings, after all.) But it doesn't stop me occasionally, gently, trying to coax her to open up and enjoy the wiggling dolls.
The CD I played for them was Sesame Street Platinum Too, which includes Somebody Come and Play and One Small Voice -- both great, classic and evocative Sesame tunes. I figured if anything was going to help my cause, it would be this album. Tim was all smiles -- he grew up watching Sesame Street, like me, and we remember the same moments, and he also sang One Small Voice with his school choir, so he was even singing along.
Helena, on the other hand, never watched the show growing up, and was unimpressed. The only song she identified with -- I'm not making this up -- was Oscar's The Grouch Song. Well, that gives me something to work on, down the track. But for now, the issue is Sesame Street. "Can you imagine," I asked her, "what it must be like for kids to hear this stuff every day? What a positive impact this music has?"
"Sure," she said. "But the key word there was kids. Adults aren't supposed to listen to this stuff."
She didn't mean anything by it, particularly, except to get me to switch the damn stereo off so she could keep watching Gilmore Girls. (You see what I'm up against?) But she did make a good point. Maybe my devotion to Muppets had caused me to lose my musical taste -- maybe, just maybe, I'm really not supposed to listen to this stuff.
So, naturally enough, having had this realization, I went out and bought a few more Sesame Street albums to bolster my collection -- you wouldn't try to listen to Nirvana all week if you only had one album, would you? -- and made a resolution. The challenge: to spend a whole week listening to nothing but Sesame Street music. And, preferably, to emerge with my mind, and my musical taste, intact.
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Let's get the cranky part over with. Monday, April 22
I've been a Tough Pigs reader since the beginning. I was there for all the high points, and I was there for every soul-destroying day of Tomie dePaola. And I've noticed a pattern with Danny's "My Week" adventures -- he starts out full of enthusiasm, overjoyed with the potential of his latest Muppety task, and by about Thursday, he winds up a cranky, broken shell of a man, just flailing about wildly and striking out at whichever innocent Muppet crosses his path. It's only natural, and I begrudge him nothing. If he didn't do this, someone else would, and they might not be strong enough to withstand it. It's a great service Danny performs for us -- he gets cranky so we don't have to.
But at the same time, I think it sends a bad message. Watching Muppets -- even watching them every damn day for a week at a time, whether you want to or not -- should be an uplifting experience. Shouldn't it?
So I want to get the cranky part over with right now: Sesame Street Platinum Too -- at least the repackaged version sold here in Australia -- features the worst liner notes I have ever seen. The thing is just full of typos. I mean, some of these people simply cannot spell, and whoever's in charge of those people cannot proof-read. This wouldn't bother me as much as it does except that this is a SESAME STREET CD. I learned to read and write from watching a show made by these very people. That might not be ironic, but it's certainly an embarrassing coincidence.
A few examples. The lyrics are helpfully printed in the sleeve notes so we can sing along. Let's sing along with the Count! "I am pleased to announce / You cad add up amounts." Yes, you certainly cad.
Should we sing along to What's The Name of That Song? Yeah, but "I wish I rembered the words."
You can even sing along to Caribean Amphibian, if you can figure out how to pronounce it without that pesky missing "b".
Let's turn to the album credits to see who's to blame for this mess. Could it be "Emillo Delgado"? "David Langston Smyry"? Or, possibly, "Maty Robinson"?
I think the problem is the Sony Wonder people have been listening too carefully to their own album. I think someone in the production process has decided, like Kingston Livingston III, to "be original" and abandon traditional spelling. And once that happened, it only took one sub-editor to think, like Big Bird, hey, "everyone makes mistakes," and bingo, we've got ourselves a CD cover riddled with Mr. Bloopers.
Everyone makes mistakes, oh yes they do! Your sister and your brother and your dad and mother too, Big people, small people, even Sony Wonder people, Everyone makes mistakes, so why can't qvzkdlgadzqs?
All right. Let's move on.
What were we talking about? Oh, yeah. The music.
The eternal problem with compilation albums is what to include and what to leave out. You can't please everybody, even if your target audience is three-year-olds, and the Platinum series has the added problem of being partly aimed at the nostalgia market as well. Very few people have to try to appeal to tiny tots and their world-weary parents at the same time, but producers of kids' CDs are among those people. Forty-five minutes of Barney singing "I love you, you love me, even though I'm a guy in a costume gettin' paid scale" might please the youngsters, but it's a sure bet that Mom won't be able to stand repeat listens without developing a severe allergy to the color purple.
Sesame Street Platinum does a pretty good job of pleasing everybody, with some real classics like Little Things, I Love Trash, Sing, Bein' Green and even Bob and a couple of Jim-and-Frank Anything People singing The People In Your Neighborhood. (If you listen closely, you can actually hear what color cardigan Bob is wearing.) C Is For Cookie, Rubber Duckie, One Fine Face, Put Down The Duckie -- this album really delivers. I can't think of a better way to start off the week.
There's very little filler amongst the hits -- Happy Tappin' with Elmo being an obvious candidate for the "skip" button, but even then, it's only a minute and a half long. (There's very few things in life more dull than listening to somebody tap-dance. I mean, the guy may as well be playing the spoons, you know what I'm saying?)
This album is really catchy, right from the theme song that opens it -- the actual real live theme from Sesame Street (albeit not the harmonica version that I know and love), but I've got to question the presence of The Lambaba. It's a neat song and all, but it's the Count's only number -- why not, I don't know, Counting is Wonderful, or The Batty Bat?
Gripes? I've gotta say, I don't like Early Big Bird. You remember, back in the early seventies, before Big Bird grew a brain, and he had that weird twang in his voice? "Sorry, Mr. Dooperrrrrr!" No matter how much I love ABC-DEF-GHI, I regretfully have to skip this track every time. It hurts me to admit that, but it hurts more to listen to this Neanderthal, Goofy-impersonating, knuckle-dragging canary. (Does Big Bird have knuckles?) There was a newer version, recorded sometime in the eighties, that I like much better, but for some reason they've included the original. I don't think it would've been too Rad to give us the Bird without the overhanging eyebrows.
Platinum Too suffers a little from Sequel Syndrome, but bounces back nicely. How can you open a Sesame album when you've already used the theme song? By cleverly holding back Somebody Come and Play, that's how. Excellent, more classics coming my way.
But what's this? Track two -- Kingston Livingston the what now? Apparently, Kingston is Just Happy To Be Me. It's actually a pretty catchy song, and Kevin Clash, musically, is almost always on the money, but I'm not sure I'd accord this number classic status. Unless I were, say, trying to pad out an album like this one, perhaps. But I'll let it slide, because it's followed up by seven certified Sesame hits in a row: What's the Name of That Song?, Counting is Wonderful (see, I told you there was nothing wrong with it), Caribbean Amphibian, All By Myself (Prairie Dawn, you really are quite remarkable), The Word Is No (I can't tell you how much I love this song), The Grouch Song and Imagination. This last one bothers me slightly, because it's preceded by a full minute of seventies-style Sesame album introduction -- warts and all, including that weird echo effect on Frank and Caroll's characters that was apparently the result of them double- and triple-tracking themselves. But it's such a sweet song that by the end of it I've forgiven and forgotten.
Speaking of which, I officially don't care that the second half of the album is only so-so, with eminently skippable tracks like Believe In Yourself and Everybody Makes Mistakes (knuckle-dragging Bird warning), mixed among such worthies as Mah Na Mah Na, because the final track on the album is One Small Voice, which fills me with such joy that I think it should be mandatory for every album to finish with it. How much better would Pearl Jam's Vitalogy be if it finished with a chorus of angelic youngsters singing one of Jeff Moss' sweetest songs?
This is going to be a very good week indeed.
Tomorrow: Things get ugly fast with Elmo and the Orchestra.
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Classical Smackdown Tuesday, April 23
First up, a confession: I'm an Elmovangelist. I'm a realist -- I mean, I can see why other Muppet fans are annoyed by him, but the thing is, I'm not, and I'll defend him to my dying breath. (And as Elmo himself points out, oh-so-adorably, in Take a Breath, "If you stop your breathing you've got big big trouble!") So I've been openly looking forward to today's album, Elmo and the Orchestra.
Elmo and the Orchestra is a really neat idea. Elmo and Big Bird introduce their audience of eager three year olds to the world of classical music, and they do it via a cute little radio-play.
The plot, such as it is, has Elmo come across an all-bird orchestra tuning up near Big Bird's nest. Elmo recalls that he heard a symphony once, but he can't remember how it goes. So the orchestra plays a whole bunch of pieces to jog his memory. And along the way, we all learn about woodwinds and percussion and string and brass, and we get to hear all the really catchy parts from classical stand-bys like Tchaikovsky's Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies, Strauss' The Blue Danube Waltz, Offenbach's Can Can from Orpheus in the Underworld, and, of course, Beethoven's Symphony No. 5.
The fun part, though, is that the script by Sarah Albee is absolutely packed to the rafters with really labored, so bad they're nearly good, Sesame Street-style puns. Cool! Classical music and puns, together at last. The orchestra is called the Birdapest Symphony Orchestra, and the conductor, played by Jerry Nelson, is called Leonard Birdseed. His lead violinist and piano soloist, both played by Fran Brill, are named Penelope Pinfeathers and Signora Barbara F. Seville, respectively.
Sample dialogue:
Elmo's reply to Penelope suggesting "a bit of Paganini": "Sure! Elmo had some fettucine once and it was delicious!"
During The Swan from The Carnival of Animals, Elmo thinks the swan sounds sad: "Maybe it's thinking about its difficult childhood as an ugly duckling!"
It's cute and funny and, yes, it's educational -- I actually didn't know that the piano was a percussion instrument until Elmo and Big Bird found out for me -- so it seems churlish to fault it, but this is Tough Pigs, so I'm going to fault it anyway.
First, for all my childish pleasure in a bad pun, there's a difference between bad jokes and just plain bad writing. During The Ride of the Valkyries, Big Bird and Elmo exchange the following dialogue at the top of their lungs:
Elmo: This sure is loud!
Big Bird: What's that? You're proud?
Elmo: No no no, Big Bird, Elmo said, this is loud!
Okay, we get the idea. But there's more.
Big Bird: Of course it's allowed! Orchestras get to do that, silly!
Elmo: No! Elmo's trying to say it's definitely not a quiet piece!
Fine. Good. Neat. But we're done, right? Oh... No. No, we're not.
Big Bird: Try a piece? Try a piece of what?
Elmo: Elmo's just saying that the music has a very loud sound!
Big Bird: What? You found it?
A similar, but even more painful, exchange takes place at the end, when the pizza man ringing the doorbell finally jogs Elmo's memory:
"That's the piece, Big Bird!" -- "The piece of pizza?" -- "No, no, the piece of music!" -- "Pizza music? Never heard of it! How does it go?" -- "Elmo's talking about the music piece!" -- "Music pizza? What kind of topping does that have?"
You'd think that would be the end of it, but Elmo goes to great lengths to explain it as clearly as possible to Big Bird, telling him very simply what we've figured out by now: "Big Bird, the pizza delivery man just reminded Elmo of the symphony Elmo's trying to remember!" But Big Bird still doesn't get it: "I don't see how that could be, Elmo. I'm quite sure there's a birdseed pizza inside that box he's carrying, not a piece of music!"
I've never come so close to stealing Big Bird's teddy bear and smacking him over the beak with it. Surely by now there are two year olds rolling their eyes and thinking Big Bird should be put into some kind of special class where clowns squirt him with a seltzer bottle every time he tries a dumb pun routine like that again.
The simple story is a great way to introduce a lot of different pieces, and to introduce a lot of ideas, but it's not such a great hook for repeated listens. (Enterprising youngsters and interested fans will note that the thrill of wondering what symphony Elmo's after can be neatly ruined by looking at the name of the last track on the back cover.) With just one basic plot element -- essentially, "What's the name of that song?" -- and no subplots or characterization to speak of, once you've heard it a couple of times, the only thing the album's got going for it is the music. Trouble is, you can't just listen to the music -- the characters are talking before, after and even during most of the tracks, so even the skip button's no use here. It is fun to listen to, but basically, Elmo and the Orchestra amounts to a sampler CD. It's fine to hear once or twice, and who knows, it might inspire the next Yo-Yo Ma --
Big Bird: What? What about yo' mama?
-- but it's never going to be disc number one in any preschooler's 8-stack CD player.
Next: More Elmo Trouble.
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Make Me Happy Wednesday, April 24
Next up: The Best of Elmo, which begins with Elmo's bright little voice welcoming us to his album. It's just the sort of thing Elmo would do, and I love the little guy for thinking of it, and for taking the time to follow through on the idea. Too many music albums rely on the music to communicate with the listener. Why doesn't Michael Stipe welcome me to the latest R.E.M. album? When I buy Macy Gray's latest CD, why doesn't she tell me how happy she is to be singing me her favorite songs?
"Hit it!" Elmo chirps, and launches into the Sesame Street theme song. Which is only a little weird, because I don't remember him ever singing it before, but it's a neat way of starting the album, and -- yay! -- the backing track is the harmonica instrumental version that I was missing so much in the Platinum album. Sometimes it seems like Elmo was created specifically to make me happy.
Then we hear Elmo's Song, naturally enough, with Snuffy and Big Bird chiming in -- so by track two, he's already sharing the limelight a little. Next up is Happy Tappin' With Elmo, which you may recall I skipped last time around, when it showed up on Platinum. But this time around Elmo's buttered me up, so I give the little guy a go, and it turns out that it is a pretty happy song. It does still suffer a little from being a tap-dance song without any visuals, but I'm in such a good mood that I take the time to imagine Elmo's tap-dance, and in my mind's eye I'm impressed. We've seen Elmo dance quite a bit over the years, but it never seems to get tired, even when you have to imagine it yourself. (And he's right, it's incredible what you can do in your imagination.)
One Fine Face -- cute song, and it sure gives good Ernie. But by now I'm getting a little tired of repeats. Sesame Street has given us so many beautiful original songs over the years that surely they can manage to scrounge up enough different songs to put a different collection on each album? I've complained about filler before, but if Sesame Workshop ever called to ask me, I'd tell them I'd prefer the filler to the double-ups.
By track five, Elmo's Off To School, and I'm a little confused -- isn't Elmo three and a half? What's he doing going to school? Is he in some kind of accelerated learning program? And if so, why is he still referring to himself in the third person?
Elmo Wrote His Name is a fine, perfectly unmemorable song, although it does feature a nice selection of other characters singing back-up, but Splish Splash seems pretty random -- I mean, it's not a Sesame Street song that happens to share the name of the popular hit, it's an actual cover song, which always surprises me. Were Jeff Moss, Joe Raposo and Christopher Cerf all busy that day?
Same goes for Drive My Car -- this is supposed to be The Best of Elmo, not Elmo's Album of Random Cover Songs. And let me just check -- just a couple of songs ago, Elmo was off to school, wasn't he? When did he learn to drive? This is getting really weird.
And I would never question Elmo's motives, because he seems perfectly pure of heart, but wasn't Imagination Ernie's song? I know Bert has sung it to Ernie on the show, but I don't remember Elmo ever singing this. And my memories of Take a Breath don't feature any Muppets at all. I don't know who sang it, but it sure wasn't my little red friend. Suddenly The Best of Elmo has become Elmo Commits Outright Musical Theft To Pad Out His Album.
Bert? Ernie? Give me a call. I'll put you in touch with a good entertainment lawyer.
Don't worry, this album isn't made up of songs that make me angry. It also has Be Doodle Dee Dum and Elmo's Rap Alphabet, which I want to skip instantly.
Elmo, you've let me down. It's really hard to be an Elmovangelist in the face of such evidence. I mean, this album isn't really bad, but it's not overflowing with the kind of perfect red furry joy that I think we should be able to expect from you by now.
What's that, Elmo? You've still got two tracks to go? Well, don't think you can pull that trick of saving up a couple of really terrific songs for the very end to make me forgive you for a whole bunch of musical sins. You people have tried that too many --
-- What? You've got Just One Person and Sing? And Sing features Big Bird, Telly, Grover and a whole chorus of angelic kids?
... Oh, all right, then, little fella. You're off the hook. But I'll expect better on your next album.
Ya little red rascal.
Tomorrow: Jeff Moss, Joe Raposo and Christopher Cerf take an entire week off as the Sesame cast sings Kids' Favorite Songs. For a whole album.
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The Farmer Takes a Wife Thursday, April 25
So the challenge was to spend a whole week listening to nothing but Sesame Street music. Which, to anyone familiar with Sesame Street music, doesn't really seem like that much of a challenge. Not really. I mean, they've produced a huge variety of music over thirty years, in all kinds of styles, and with an ever-changing cast -- the choice should be pretty wide.
Well, perhaps not that wide, since for some reason the pool of available tracks they've chosen from for the compilation albums seems to be somewhat limited, and for every straight-out double-up (for example, Ernie singing Imagination appears on several albums), there also seems to be a subtle variation (Elmo sings Imagination on one of them).
So it was getting a little bit wearing. Another Sesame compilation. Another theme song. Another song from the Count. Another version of Sing.
But today, a golden shaft of light appears in the sky, and a heavenly chorus sings a particularly nice major chord, and along comes Kids' Favorite Songs, as if to answer my prayers: 15 tracks, and not a Sesame stand-by in sight. This'll make a nice change.
Or so I thought, until just 38 seconds into track one, when Big Bird, singing The Farmer In The Dell, tells us to sing, "The farmer takes a wife."
The farmer does WHAT now?
"The farmer takes a wife!"
Luckily, for those of us who weren't sure they were hearing it right the first or second times, it's quite a repetitive song, so Big Bird sings it a few more times for us.
Okay, so maybe Big Bird doesn't quite mean it in the possessive, patriarchal, possibly even forcible way that it might sound. I mean, maybe the farmer takes a wife... to the movies. To watch The Sound of Music. Yeah, I'll bet that's what it is. I mean, what other sense of the word "takes" could he possibly mean?
I just hope he doesn't mean it in the same sense that, moments later, he tells us "the dog takes the cat."
I'm being childish, of course. And it's not Big Bird's fault that Sir John Traditional's lyrics to The Farmer In The Dell might be a little outdated, even archaic. But Big Bird chose to sing it, didn't he? I mean, he could have changed it a little, or just quietly, without making a fuss, put the Farmer out to pasture and sung Humpty Dumpty instead. Right?
It goes on some more. Elmo sings John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt, Prairie Dawn sings Ring Around the Rosy and Skip To My Lou, and then Polly Darton is Comin' Round The Mountain...
... And I'm bored out of my brain. The only thing that provides any relief from the constant onslaught of dullness is another dim-witted Bird moment:
Elmo: Polly Darton is coming to Sesame Street!
Big Bird: You mean Polly Darton, the world-famous singer?
No, Big Bird, he means Polly Darton, the world-famous systems analyst. And if you keep that dull expository dialogue up, you're gonna get a smack across the beak.
The problem is, these are all really simple, dull, repetitive songs, with lyrics that have been largely rendered meaningless by the passing of the years. Sure, they're supposed to be simple and repetitive -- that's what nursery rhymes are for. But there's a reason Sesame Street has lasted for so long: it gives us something different from dull nursery rhymes. Clever, knowing twists on dull nursery rhymes. Smart, catchy songs with lyrics that are entertaining and actually mean something. Songs that come from the heart of the characters. Until now.
It does seem like a good idea: Everybody's favorite Sesame Street characters singing songs that every kid sings every day with his family and at pre-school. Row Row Row Your Boat sung by Mr. Snuffleupagus and Elmo -- what could be more perfect?
And what could be more bland?
Tomorrow: Saved by the Alphabet!
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A to Z Friday, April 26
It doesn't start out well. At the start of Sing the Alphabet, Elmo's up to his old musical theft tricks again, this time brazenly bluffing his way through ABC-DEF-GHI as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. And then Early Bird is back with a vengeance, nearly ruining a perfectly good song about the letter "A" with his Jughead impressions. I swear, he's on the verge of actually using the word "duh."
(I have a similar problem with Early Ernie, who, in tracks like Rubber Duckie and Dee Dee Dee, which are otherwise perfectly charming, sounds like he should have two big buck-teeth and a piece of straw hanging out of his mouth. Come to think of it, there's a bit of weird Early Prairie action on The Sound of the Letter A and What's My Letter as well. I don't remember her ever sounding like this, but apparently in the early days, Prarie Dawn spoke in a weird, semi-monotone half-whisper, as if she's frightened that if she speaks too loudly, she'll get beaten up by Frazzle.)
Parenthetical crankiness aside, Oscar's B Sandwich, C Is For Cookie, Dee Dee Dee, What's My Letter, Four Furry Friends and Two G Sounds all in a row is more than enough to push this album over the edge and make me stop praying for the weekend and the possibility of playing something -- anything -- other than Sesame Street. Listening to these tracks -- all from classic, seventies Sesame -- restores my faith in Muppet fandom and in the world in general.
Early Bird rears his prehistoric head again in Ha Ha but is quickly redeemed when he introduces Harvey Kneeslapper, who surprises and tickles me by singing in what sounds quite close to Frank Oz's actual voice.
Ernie and Grover do I Stand Up Straight and Tall, which is fine, but I'm feeling guilty because even though it's Jim and Frank singing a Joe Raposo tune, I could care less about this song. Right now, my finger is itching to press "skip" so I can get to the next song, which is the terrific Jeff Moss-penned J Friends, featuring Jim, Jerry, Frank and Fran just rocking out as they sing about J Joe Jeans and his jellybeans. This is the sort of number that makes me just sit there in my headphones with a big grin on my face, rocking back and forth as I slip mentally into Sesame heaven.
The joy I feel listening to Bert and Ernie do La La La eases my guilt, since this also is Jim, Frank and Joe Raposo. What other kids' show would feature a character using the word "linoleum" with such unadulterated joy?
Would You Like To Buy An O is equally fun -- without the sing-along potential, but featuring that classic Salesman/Ernie dialogue I used to quote endlessly with my brothers:
Salesman: It'll cost you just a nickel!
Ernie: A NICKEL???
Salesman: Shhhh!
Ernie: A nickel?
Salesman: Riiiight...
Prairie Dawn and Grover sing The Question Song and fill me with joy, and then there's a non-musical Bert and Ernie track that I've never heard before, where Bert unveils his R detector machine, and Ernie breaks it with a tongue-twister. The sleeve notes tell me that it's a Jim Henson script, and that makes sense: It's a really clever, silly idea, and it plays out in a really clever, silly way. It's just perfect, perfect Sesame.
Professor Hastings shows up, and then Bert gets excited about the letter W, and suddenly I realize that I owe my entire childhood to Jerry Juhl.
I love this album! I don't even care that this really is a cynical re-release of old material with two Elmo songs pasted in at the start to justify putting him on the cover. In fact, I like the idea that Elmo's recent popularity explosion might give kids a chance to hear all this great, classic stuff. Who could resent the little guy for wanting to sing a couple tracks himself, before handing the album over to Harvey Kneeslapper, Professor Hastings, the Salesman and Frazzle -- none of whom, I'm sure, would have ever shown up on CD without Elmo's help.
Sing the Alphabet is the perfect metaphor for Sesame Street today: Elmo is the gateway to all good things, and even though he's got his face all over the front cover and sings the first two songs, he still steps aside and shares the limelight with those who paved the way for him. And now, of course, with Sesame Street's 33rd season and Play With Me Sesame's debut, we've come full circle, and the classic characters have returned, bathed in glory, to delight a whole new audience of three year olds.
Oh, yeah. And me.
My Week with Sesame Music is now officially over, and I'm allowed to take off my Danny Hat and listen to whatever I want. I think I'm gonna put Sing the Alphabet on just one more time.
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My Week with Play With Me Sesame
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