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Operatic kitsch has never been so splendidly celebrated as it is in "The Muse Surmounted" -- a wildly entertaining horror show of vocal ambitions gone very, very wrong. Taking its lead from the impossibly shrill, off-key recordings of Florence Foster Jenkins, whose self-financed 1944 Carnegie Hall concert remains one of the wildest events ever to occur there, TMS gathers together the very worst that vanity recordings have to offer and wraps it up in a loving, if tongue-in-cheek, celebration of blind musical ambition. If you want to hear women in their eighties who don't know the meaning of "quit," thickly Queens-accented socialites bulldozing the Italian language, free-form approximations of "La traviata," and unspeakable acts of intonation, you've come to the right place. Natalia de Andrade's violent rendition of Manon's "Je marche" turns Massenet's teenaged coquette into a dominatrix for the AARP set; Norma-Jean and Ellis Chadbourne's tag-team "educational" LP entitled "The Art of Messa di Voce Singing" sounds more like Snow White strangling a dwarf; Mari Lyn valorously declares her intentions to return Rossini's "Una voce poco fa" to its historically correct roots in a N'York-speak introduction, and then proceeds to re-compose what little of it she can sing; Tryphosa Bates-Batcheller bravely ignores the limits of her vocal range as she sings parts of "Darling Nelly Gray" a full step flat in brassy blare; and Sari Bunchuk Wontner's (no, these names are not made up) "Sempre libera" -- recorded surreptitiously by a family friend during a fully staged performance of "La traviata" in her home -- is completely unrecognizable. But, proving that she is still queen of the socialite divas, Florence Foster Jenkins takes top honors with her "Valse Caressante," written expressly for her by her longtime accompanist Cosme McMoon (again, real names folks...), whose description of his work with "Madame Jenkins" on the last track bring the great lady's extravagances to life in reminiscent Technicolor. The note-writer's allegation that McMoon paid bodybuilders for sexual favors, and indeed ran a brothel of sorts out of a Manhattan gym, makes the final-page bonus photo of McMoon with Arnold Schwarzenegger and Franco Colombu a real brow-raiser. Allen Schrott, All Music Guide