The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. CXXVI

Man, I hope you guys like doorbells. . .

Album Title:  The Bells of Christmas Morn

Album Artist:  The Schulmerich "Carillon Americana" Bell

I've reviewed my fair share of blase 'Bell & Chimes' Holiday records over the years, as well as the alternative (and slightly better) 'Chimes & Organ.' There's a crap-load of that stuff out there to choose from, it was definitely all the rage back in the '50s considering how much of it you come across in your local thrift store (or record store dollar bin.) 

I assumed, when I first spotted this one, that it would sound similar to the previous records I've reviewed on here; I mean, it has 'bells' on the title, the track listing is similar, the artwork just as tired and lame. On other 'bells'-related albums, one can expect hand bells of varying size, usually performed by a 'band' (for lack of better term) of people ringing different bells at designated times in order to create an easily-discernible Christmas melody. 

Kris' old church downtown has a bell 'team' (or band, whatever), in fact: they line up in a row in front of a cloth-covered table, upon which arrayed out like medieval torture devices are bells of different sizes ('cause the bigger bells make lower-pitched sounds, etc.) They're then conducted by some old bag of a woman who definitely acts as if she's conducting the London Symphony Orchestra, and the results are what you'd expect.

This album, believe it or not, does not sound anything like the previous Bell/Chime/Organ albums I've reviewed in the past.

This album sounds like a doorbell.

The ol' Holiday message on the back of the cover. Don't believe any of it.

I wish I was kidding, but that's like the most accurate way I can possibly describe it. Well, maybe a room filled with multiple doorbells, all simultaneously going off at the same time. Now, you might be thinking to yourself, "Ope, here we go - Brian's over-exaggerating for entertainment's sake again. . ." but I shit you not, America - when I started playing this album on my turntable, both my dogs started to lose their shit in the living room. They thought someone was at our door.

Seriously.

So let's take a step back and analyze the nuts and bolts of this real quick. There's not much to find fault with with a track list of familiar Christmas songs, and the recording quality itself isn't horrible (it's a 70-year-old record, we'll cut it some slack.) The 'attraction' of this album was how they hooked up hundreds and hundreds of tons of cast-metal bells to an electronic organ (not even joking), so that when some asshole named Robert (a so-called 'Carillonneur,' mind you) plays a Christmas song on said keyboard, it strikes all these heavy-ass bells.

Goddamn it, Robert - you frickin' ruined doorbells for me.

With the lighter, higher-pitched bells, this could have been stomached in moderation, but when all you're doing is ringing super loud-ass bells non-stop, it gets old real fast. Like, ten seconds is too much. Robert, bells are accent instruments, used for emphasis or atmosphere (quietly, in the background). Unless you're announcing the hour of the day, calling people to prayer, or alerting people that there's someone at their door, we don't need bells in our day-to-day lives. And we certainly don't need bells this frequently in Christmas music.

Imagine hearing a crash cymbal in a song. Totally great once and awhile, for emphasis purposes.

Now imagine a song where it's nothing but repeated crash cymbals, from start to finish.

That's what this album is like.

VERDICT:  2/10 - Reality TV (Stock up on the Tylenol if you're dead set on listening to this one. You've been warned.)

- SHELVED-

- Brian