The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. CXIV

I'm gonna recommend each and every one of you go run to the cabinet real fast and grab yourself a couple of NoDoz real quick before we start this evening's installment, folks. . . 

Album Title:  For Christmas This Year

Album Artist:  The Lettermen

Another solid-gold gem from a Christmas run to Radio Wasteland, this album was a long, long time coming, folks. It was only a matter of time before The Lettermen finally graced my turntable on this Christmas Record Odyssey of mine, and to be honest I'm kinda surprised they haven't already.

If you've never frequented the used records section of your local thrift store (don't worry, its there), you probably can't understand what I'm getting at. You see, when a record collector goes hunting for vinyl, they're presented with some alternatives. First, they can shop online (via Amazon, Discogs, SoundofVinyl, Merchbar, etc.), which usually have the best prices, best availability, etc.  Second, they can head on over to their local record store, which provides the cool atmosphere and the camaraderie of being around other collectors, talking shop and learning more. . . the downside, alas, being prices and availability aren't usually as great as online shopping.

Then there's your third option - they can slum it up in their local shit holes. Flea/antique markets, garage sales, and thrift stores.

This is the Wild West of record collecting, because it's a total crap-shoot with regards to pricing and what you stumble across. Some antique stores think some dusty, scratched up Elvis record is worth $50 just because it's Elvis, all because they don't know shit about record collecting and haven't taken the time to look up the value of it on Discogs. Other times you can hit up a garage sale where some lady just got a divorce and she wants her husband's record collection liquidated. 

I once scored over one hundred albums once for $10 when I had only been collecting for a few years this way, I still remember it. 

Thrift stores are probably the worst place to look, though. This is almost always the absolute dregs of the physical media world, because it houses those albums that other folks have deemed crappy enough to get rid of, but not good enough for other people in society to purchase back from the thrift store. This is the fabled Land of Mantovani, of Mitch Miller, of Lawrence Welk, of The Ames Brothers, of Anne Murray, of Roger Whitaker, and of The Lettermen.

Like I said before, I'm surprised this is the first time I've gotten around to reviewing The Lettermen on here, because this is literally all I've ever seen at thrift stores - their dusty, old bullshit. I was curious to know what the hype (or lack thereof) was all about. So upon dropping the needle on this album, the first thing that hit me was, "Damn, I didn't realize any three vocalists out there could make Three Dog Night sound so f***ing hard. . ." 

This is, without a doubt, the most inoffensive easy listening music I've ever heard. You could play this in front of anyone, at any time: in the middle of church, to your grandparents while they're having sex, to a little kid in the middle of the night while wearing a werewolf mask in order to soothe them back to sleep, you name it. It works on so many levels. 

Now, I should point out real fast that the music itself on this album is straight-up '4' territory - it's boring, but it is competent. This is 'Great Songs of Christmas' music, the kind you''d expect backing Johnny Mathis, Julie Andrews, Andy Williams, etc. - which is also easy listening music, but a few clicks up from these douchebags in terms of 'star power,' I guess.  So I have zero issue with the arrangements on here. . . though I do with some of the song choices - which are so bad where they may be 'originals,' God forbid.) If going by music alone, in fact (like, if it was an instrumental release), I'd probably give this one a '4.' Maybe a '5.'

But Goddamn it all to Hell. . . these vocals.

From Our House to Yours, baby girl. . .

At no point, throughout the entirety of this album, do The Letterman push their voices out of the malaise of background vocals-ish harmonizing.  Not one of these creepy-looking assholes (see picture at right) attempt to 'belt out' any of their songs - not at a chorus, not at a reprise, nothing. There's no variation in the volume of their singing, ever - it's almost like they had to sign some kind of a clause with this record deal where they had to record everything so that it came across as the audio equivalent of mayonnaise. Consequently, all three voices blend together into some kind of nauseating,  Valium cocktail, lulling the listener into a state of near-comatose over the course of twelve songs.

After two sides of such sleepy singing, one almost wishes for the cheesy, over-the-top 'operatic' singing we've previously ridiculed on this blog over the years. If only to snap us out of our induced comas. 

Perhaps if they had drank a cup of coffee (or six) before recording albums like this one here, there wouldn't be so f***ing many of them cluttering up your local thrift store. . .

VERDICT:  3/10 - Seriously? (Do NOT listen to this album while operating heavy machinery.)

- SHELVED-

- Brian