The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. LXXII

 'Tis the Season for yule-tide jammitude, masses.  Throw on your Christmas pants and let's get down to business here, shall we. . . 

Album Title:  A Christmas Festival of Songs and Carols, Vol. 2

Album Artist:  Various Artists

Orphans gaze at mankind's most boring collection of toys . .

Well, we're still chipping away at that Bethesda stack I purchased a couple weeks ago.  Like I said before, for 59 cents apiece you can definitely score a crap-load without even realizing it.  I cleaned those guys out and probably dropped, like, $6.  Zero complaints here.

So, this compilation comes from the good folks over at JC Penney, which, I'm told, used to be some kind of department store back in the day.  All the rage.  Perhaps this album's hilarious cover art reflects this, with a bunch of probably-orphans gazing longingly at a storefront window display jam-packed with super-generic toys.  The kind that kids haven't wanted Santa to bring them since, like, 1964.

No wonder JC Penney ate shit and died.

A parade of button-eyed, creepy-ass children.  Kinda reminds me of that movie Coraline.

I mean, look at this crap-show.  A toy accordion?  What kinda of monster would see something like this and think, "Hot damn, that's just the ticket - that's gonna be swell for Junior to open up on Christmas Morning."  Perhaps, even worse, what kid would actually want something like this for Christmas?  Some poor bastard who has parents deeply involved in the polka craze of the 1950s and '60s?  And is grasping at straws for ways to win some kind of affection from them?  How depressing is that scenario?

Anyway, let's get back to the music on this release.  I suppose that's what we're all here for in the first place.  The track list on this compilation is run-of-the-mill, non-offensive, vanilla Christmas music from the sixties.  Every Holiday favorite your grandparents adored while smoking cigarettes in their shag-covered living rooms and waiting for the fruitcake to cool off.

All these '60s Christmas compilations follow a familiar playbook, and so I wasn't shocked in the slightest by what I found here:  a couple country songs, an instrumental medley, a couple 'powerhouse' vocal numbers, and a few numbers featuring choirs.  This variety is par-for-the-course for nearly every compilation I've ever reviewed in the '3' to '5' range in this Record Odyssey of mine, and, not surprisingly, this album finds itself in similar territory.

Chet Atkins' guitar work on 'Little Drummer Boy' is a decent track, and even though I've definitely heard better versions of this song, there's nothing really to complain about here.  Same goes for Arthur Fiedler's take on Tchaikovsky's The Nutcracker - the Boston Pops do a commendable job.

From Our House to Yours.  Yet again. . .

Those couple songs aside, most of the rest of these songs are ridiculously boring, and a select few have that distinction of being pure garbage.  The use of a children's choir on the opening track of Side A is jarring; why producers back in the day felt it was totally cool to throw a children's choir onto a non-children's music compilation is beyond me.  Unless I'm listening to a children's album - which, honestly, I can't see myself going out of my way to do - I don't want to hear little kids singing.  Not at all.  Nobody wants to hear that nonsense.

Mario Lanza, who fancies himself some kind of vocal powerhouse, belts out with a fury on 'O Holy Night,' sounding more like a guy pretending to be an Italian virtuoso than the real deal.  I've heard drunks perform better.  And choosing a soft, religious carol as your showcase number isn't really a smart move, either - show that range on a banger (like, say, 'O Come All Ye Faithful'), not on something that's supposed to be reverent.  C'mon Mario, this is Christmas Music 101.

So yeah, this is typical, fade-into-the-background, boring Christmas music, that offers up few reasons to stay awake long enough to register it's still spinning on your turntable.  

VERDICT:  5/10 - Meh (This is what JC Penney would sound like if JC Penney was a Christmas album)

- SHELVED -

- Brian

The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. LXX

Welcome back, Internet.  We got ourselves some good ol' fashioned, soul-saving Christmas cheer today

Album Title:  Come on, Ring Those Bells

Album Artist:  Evie

I'm not gonna lie, folks - I totally picked this one up due to the ridiculous cover art.  I found this in my previously-discussed stack of vinyl that I scored at the Bethesda thrift store, across from my school, where you can score vinyl for an unheard of 59 cents apiece.

And this baby?  I couldn't pass this one up.  I mean, just look at this chick:

If warm milk, abstinence, and homophobia was a person.

Yes, somebody once paid $8 for this.

So many thoughts went through my head when I first saw this lady on the cover of this album.  First of all, who the hell is this 'Evie' lady?  The one-name moniker - who in the hell does she think she is, Cher?  Madonna?  Meatloaf?  Is she some sort of Scandinavian super-star?  A Partridge-Family, G-rated, fun-for-the-whole-family balladeer?  Is this a independently-funded release by a big dreamer who had to eventually grow up and realize she wasn't going to be a Carpenter sister, and had to eventually get a job ringing up groceries somewhere in Kansas?

Nope on all accounts, I guess.  Squeaky-clean, country-ish, Christian Music singer.  Go figure.

Note:  after writing this review, I hopped onto Wikipedia and found out she is Scandinavian. . . so I'm not too far off base.

Folks, this is the least-offensive record I've ever heard.  There's zero mention of Christmas trees, Santa, reindeer, snow, and certainly not mistletoe - why, that would offend our LORD.  Barn-born Baby Jesus, folks.  Nope, this is soul-saving, Nativity-centered, family-focused, Christian Christmas music.  None of that pagan, yuletide blasphemy to be found here, no thank you.

This chick probably spends a lot of time praying.  Hopefully for some dental work:

Believe it or not, this album actually came with a free poster inside.  A poster of a soft '70s Christian music performer.  You gotta wonder who the target demographic for this was.  Was this targeted for teens, who would otherwise be putting up LP posters of Kiss or the Beatles on their bedroom walls, but, because their parents are Jesus freaks, they're not allowed to?  So they have to hang up posters of Evie instead?  Do you want to see the bedroom of a person who would actually hang this up on their wall?  I sure as hell wouldn't - that would be terrifying.

The first of two sentimental messages on this album. . .

"Have you any room for Jesus?" she asks on Track 3.  Um. . . how much room is he looking for, exactly?  How much room does he take up?

Anyway, as for the music itself goes, this is pretty typical '70s soft country/pop fare.  The production value itself is actually way better than I would've expected:  I can't tell if she was just a behemoth of the '70s Christian Music circuit, or else these are all pre-recorded song arrangements and she just rented the studio time to come in and lay down a vocal track over top of them.  

Honestly, I'm not sure which scenario would be more fitting, here.

Everything on this LP is slow-tempo, low-key, and waaaay overly-heartfelt, bordering on the dramatic.  And certainly, while this Evie can definitely carry a tune (I imagine she was all the rage in her congregation's choir growing up), I find myself being turned off by her delivery.  

I think the problem with this record is that there's too much Jesus on this record for me to accept it.  Please don't get me wrong here guys, I'm not bashing Christian music, and I do love religious Christmas carols - done right, they can be moving pieces of music that completely capture the Season.  But even church services this time of year feature Christmas Trees. Completely neglecting the imagery of the Holiday Season - because it's takes away from the 'true meaning of Christmas,' blah, blah, blah - especially on a Christmas album, is jarring.  

No.

By all means, Evie, stock your track list with religious Christmas carols, that's totally fine, lady.  But throw in a couple songs about the other stuff as well.  Balance it out.  Maybe sing about the beauty of the winter landscape as you and your beloved husband - who sleeps in a separate bed, obviously - walk back from your nightly three-hour church service.  Sing about the Christmas Trees that are on display in the windows of the Planned Parenthood you and the rest of your church activist group are protesting during this festive Holiday season.  Because only nut-jobs drinking warm milk and not buying their children Christmas presents (because it would take attention away from Jesus) would appreciate this album.

And it's 100% obvious to Yours Truly that that is your target audience, Evie.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna mix myself up an egg nog and rum and blast some of Bad Religion's Christmas Songs (8/10 on the Odyssey Rating Scale, folks.)

VERDICT:  3/10 - Seriously? (It gets a couple bonus points for the production quality and song arrangements, which, oddly enough, are pretty acceptable.  Buuuut if Trump's evangelical base could release a Christmas album, this would be it.  There seems to be no tracks about Democrats stealing children in order to use them as sex slaves and blood donors, though. . .)

- SHELVED -

- Brian

The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. LXVII

Here we go again. . .

Album Title:  A Christmas Festival of Songs & Carols

Album Artist:  Various Artists

A group so white this could be a GOP photo op.

I bought a stack of shitty Christmas vinyl from the Bethesda Thrift Store, across the street from my school, during a lull on one of my Parent/Teacher Conference Days at work last week.  I grabbed the absolute crappiest-looking albums I could find, 'cause - at 59 cents apiece - it was a no-brainer for reviewing purposes.  

This particular release - courtesy of the once culturally-relevant JC Penney - with it's assembled Aryan herd of children adorning the cover, promised to be hokey as all hell.  I couldn't resist.  Yet, when dropping the needle on the Side A, Track 1, we find a Christmas medley from none other than Arthur Fiedler that and the Boston Pops Orchestra.  It's not the greatest holiday medley I've ever heard, sure enough, but it's pretty good; perhaps this album was going to be another surprise find for the Holiday Season?

Then the second track started.  And I realized this album was exactly what I thought it was going to be.

A whole lot of nonsense.

Mario Lanza, who tries his damnedest to deliver on 'O Little Town of Bethlehem,' sounds like a drunken uncle at a family get-together, trying to impress people by singing along to the radio.  Maybe he can sorta carry a tune (maybe he front his own band back in high school) but, because he's six or seven silver bullets into the afternoon, he's letting loose with a gusto that is by no means warranted.  What should be a quiet, peaceful delivery - 'cause, let's face it, that's kinda the whole 'Bethlehem' vibe - instead sounds more like, "Bro, you wan'me t'tell yoush about this fuggin place called Beffenhem?"

Following up this diddy, we have a children's chorus deliver 'The Little Drummer Boy,' in typical fashion. Not horrible, but considering the previous tracks that have appeared on this release, it's definitely out of place.  There's a time and place for children's choirs, folks, and it's on frickin children's albums.  These 60's music producers were out of their Goddamn minds putting this nonsense in a Holiday compilation album.

Gotta love the back-of-cover inspirational message. . .

The worst song on this record, by far, is delivered by Marian Anderson, who warbles with unbridled fury on 'We Wish You a Merry Christmas.'  I'm assuming this was a somewhat well-known artist back in the day ('cause, I mean, JC Penney doesn't throw just anybody on their Holiday compilations, right?) but this seriously sounds like a guy pretending to sing opera in his best 'womens' voice.  I haven't heard singing this bad since Kate Smith graced us with her presence five years ago.  It seriously sounds like someone pretending to sing, it doesn't sound real - it's that comically bad.  So bad, in fact, that I was more amused than disgusted.

The Robert Shaw Chorale's appearance on this album definitely pissed me off, because their rendition of 'The Little Drummer Boy' is mankind's greatest version, and the fact they brought in child labor for that track on the previous side is kind of infuriating.  'The Twelve Days of Christmas' - which nine times out of ten is a skip-able song on any Christmas playlist, regardless of the artist performing it - is performed by a choir of vocalists so bad that they sound like they've been rejected from a church talent show, and this is their last shot at greatness.

. . .I could honestly keep going, but I think you get the idea.

VERDICT:  3/10 - Seriously? (A valiant attempt from Arthur Fiedler can't help drag this boring - and sometimes comically-bad offering - out of the muck and mire.)

- SHELVED -

- Brian