Most people are unaware that Urban Tapestry was formed after a drunken fued between England Dan and John Ford Coley severed their partnership forever.

Their record producer, in a fit of despondency, moved to the wilds of Ontario, Canada, figuring that death or, at least, complete anonymity would follow.

As luck would have it, he found death first, in the form of a hooded, scythe bearing, costume party attending Allison Durno.

She would later tell police, "Well, he certainly looked as though his soul should be claimed," but in actuality, it was guilt about the act that led her to take up music, in honor of her victim's former profession.

Thinking, "12 are twice as good as 6," she picked up the 12 string guitar. After her husband pointed out that if she were to strum the strings, it would be even more effective, she produced sounds. Chords came much later.

Meanwhile, another piece of the puzzle (quilt, tapestry, whatever) was falling into place: Deborah Marion Kazumi Ridpath Yow Hoo You Betcha Baby Ohi decided to become a master of many musical instruments, starting with zills, Ming vase & hammer, and yak's bladder trumpet.

DMKRYHYBBO (as only her closest associates know her--the "d" is silent) quickly moved on to flute, guitar, and "bangy things." Given the amount of time she spend busking happily down Younge Street, Toronto's giddiest one-person band, it was only a matter of time before she ran into Allison.

An on-the-spot alliance occurred between them one day on that avenue, when a mime needed to be -- well, considering his profession, not "silenced", but you understand -- and Debbie amply distracted him while Allison pushed him in the door (or "path", testimony varied) of a convenient bus.

As fate would have it, that bus was driven by disgruntled soprano Jodi Krangle Kramps. The sight of the mime, clutching fertively for the tiny greyhound hood ornament while vainly attempting to wordlessly communicate his hemophilia, was enough to force a high pitched scream from her mouth. That single note was the most beautiful sound Debbie and Allison had ever heard. The mime seemed impressed, as well.

Jodi was immediately offered a role in the quickly-forming band, and even more immediately accepted, giving rise to a traffic jam so legendary that it is still spoken of to this day. The mime, being the only one present to blame by the time police arrived, was given an extremely stiff sentence: One day, in costume, in the civic lock-up. Needless to say, it became a death sentence.

After a brief (and nearly fatal) stint as a mariachi/bar-mitzva band, they regrouped, regrouted, regressed, and regurgitated, remerging as the redubbed "Urban Tapestry."

Sending a quick letter bomb to the Detroit quilting bee of the same name ("It's too good a name to share," said Jodi, carefully packing away the leftover plastique.), the group decided that publicity was the next order of the day. Reluctantly discarding the idea of a series of daring, unmasked daylight bank robberies (as possibly being -- despite standard proverbial wisdom -- "bad" publicity) they hit upon a slightly more conventional idea.

NUDE LUGE! The recording contract was signed within six business days.