The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. CXXXIV

Okay, people. 

It's mid-November. The Holiday Pre-Season is upon us.

And you all know what that means. . . .

The Great Christmas Record Odyssey.

We're on the tenth year of me doing this, folks. Ten years of hunting down Christmas records of every stripe, whether they're limited edition, color pressings intentionally hunted down off of Amazon, dusty, mice-chewed vintage albums found stacked (flat, of course) in thrift stores, or random curiosities with hilarious album art plucked from the Dollar Bin at my local record shop, Radio Wasteland. I'll amass a small pile of yuletide albums - usually between ten and fifteen - pour a drink, and then type up a review for each and every one of them throughout the Holiday Season.

It's simple work, but it's honest work.

Seeing how it's the first installment of this season's vinyl scrutinization, I'll once again direct your attention to the sacred rating scale we use around these parts:

10 - . . . And Out Come the Wolves  (Perfection. Don't believe me? Name a better punk album. I'll wait.)

9 - Cowabunga!  (I'm Gen-X, guys - for people in my age group, this term encapsulates the feeling of being round-house kicked across the face by a Ninja Turtle. But in a good way.)

8 - Awesome  (Solid, without any major faults. Worthy of repeated spins during the Holidays. )

7 - Pretty Rad  (Generally, in order for an album of mine to stay in Holiday Season Rotation, it needs to be rated '7' and up.)

6 - Decent  (This is the point where it gets dicey. Once and awhile a '6' makes it into constant rotation, but only if it satisfies a previously-vacant Holiday music niche.  These albums almost always get 'Shelved':  I hold on to them - for the time being - but they lose turntable time for the duration of the Season.)

5 - Meh   (This is the dime-a-dozen wasteland, where you find your Julie Andrews and your Percy Como's. Anything below this point is almost always put into my annual 'Donate to Goodwill' pile.)

4 - Borophyll  (There may be some redeeming qualities here that might make albums at this score appeal to some people, but definitely not to Yours Truly.)

3 - Seriously?  (Comically bad, if you will.)

2 - Reality TV  (There's only one thing shittier than Reality TV, gang. . . .)

1 - Ohio  (Do I really have to explain this?)

Good.  Now that everyone's been refreshed with how shit works around here, let's just go ahead and get started, shall we. . .

Album Title:  Punk Rock Christmas 2

Album Artist:  Various Artists

So this album was purchased by mistake, believe it or not. A couple months ago I had attempted to buy an album called Halloween Garage Blues off Amazon (you know, for Halloween.) Well, the album arrives a few days later, I open it up, and - lo and behold - it's a James Brown Christmas album. I double-checked the UPC sticker on the cardboard mailer, and it said it was Halloween Garage Blues, but the album inside was different. I briefly thought about keeping it anyway, but I'm only so-so with James Brown and dropping $18 on a Christmas album just to review on this blog of mine seemed stupid, so I ended up returning it.

I tried ordering the album a second time, and - just as before - the cardboard mailer stated that it was, in fact, the album that I had ordered. But again, upon opening it up, I found this album instead. Punk Rock Christmas 2. At this point, I said 'f*** it' and just cut my losses. I love punk rock, I love Christmas, maybe this one would pan out decent. Plus, it looks pretty cool: pressed on heavy, white vinyl, the jacket and presentation of this compilation is awesome - album artwork carries the same skeleton motif as as the first installment in this series (which I don't own. . . yet). 

Now, on to the album itself.  Punk Rock is tricky, and I say that as someone who holds this sub-genre of rock and roll as the greatest out there. There are multiple styles, spanning nearly fifty years, and as such you have to build a punk playlist adhering to certain rules. Most importantly of these is sound: punk rock has evolved from snarling, fashion-oriented rebellion (in England's and New York City's respective, late 70's scenes), to the class warfare motifs of the hardcore explosion in California and Washington D.C. in the early 80's. It started to die out, only to see a rebirth in the skate-punk bands of the mid-90's, and then MTV caught on and, on the heels of successful crossover bands like Green Day and The Offspring, we ended up with the highly polished 'pop-punk' of the early 2000's. 

Though calling any pop-punk band 'punk' is a grievous sin. Don't do that shit: Pop-Punk stands alongside 'Boy Bands' or 'Hick Hop' atop the World's Most Insufferable Music list.

With sound in mind, we have the approach to compiling albums with various artists. You CANNOT have a '70s punk band on the same album as a pop-punk/emo group, that's the sort of thing a 7th grader does when building their edgy playlist to listen to on the school bus every morning. Regardless, whoever came up with this compilation seemed to be grasping at straws in order to fill up a second compilation of punk-ish Christmas songs, because that's exactly what we have here. Classic originators from the '70s like Johnny Thunders on the same side as the insufferable, whiny-voiced Amber Pacific, whose entire discography is clearly written for 14-year-olds who think Amber Pacific is 'edgy.'

(They're not.)

I wish I could say that this was a compilation of poorly-chosen artists alone, and that even if they didn't blend well laterally they at least all had some decent songs on here. Sadly, that isn't the case, I'm afraid. Some songs - like Naked Aggression's 'What We Buy' and MDC's '(Merry Christmas) The World's on Fire' aren't even Christmas songs, they just have Christmas-related words in the song title. That's lazy-ass studio exec'ing, guys. 

Pace is an issue as well. Reagan Youth's 'Punk Rock Christmas' or The Members' cover of 'Happy X-Mas (War is Over)' are slow and painful affairs that barely qualify as 'punk' at all (and punk legends Reagan Youth's vocals are so bad on this track you can barely listen to the song in its entirety.) It's okay to slow things down once and awhile in punk music, but when that happens you have to do one of two things: 1.) switch from shout-singing to actually singing, or 2.) continue to shout-sing. The former takes talent, the latter takes conviction. . . and in punk rock conviction is the biggest asset to a vocalist, and the main determining factor in whether or not a band will cut it for you. I listen to a LOT of punk rock, and my favorite bands are the ones where the singer can be believed in what he's saying, even if he sings like total shit. Within a second or two of a vocalist coming in on a verse I can tell whether or not I can listen to that band, regardless of whether or not I like the sound of the band (ex. the Dead Kennedys sound awesome but I can't listen to them because Jello Biafra's voice makes me want to take my own life.)

It's not all doom-and-gloom for this season's first album review, though - we have some definite bright spots to highlight here. The Rumjacks' track, 'Christmas in Killarney,' is a breath of fresh air, rollicking across three minutes like the Dropkick Murphys' cousins from Australia were only in town to celebrate the Holidays for one night and were damned sure to make the most of it. 90's skate-punk veterans Pulley and Down by Law (as well as Down by Law's singer's side-project band, Dave Smalley and the Bandeleros) all deliver on their tracks, as well. There were even a couple bands I was previously unaware of, like Bankrupt (from Hungary, I guess?) and Ship Thieves (who arguably have the best track on this entire album with 'Who Put the Gum in Santa's Whiskers?') who managed to figure out how to do Christmas songs the proper, punk way. 

It shouldn't be f***ing rocket science, but I guess some bands - and the label executives who compile these holiday albums - struggle with it.

So, in the end, this album is all over the damn place. Cohesively, it's a hot mess - from bands' sounds not meshing, to artists of various eras not blending together track-by-track, to bands who probably shouldn't even be in the same zip code as authentic punk bands, etc. Some songs are definite punk rock originals about the Holidays, but others just seem to feature Christmas-ish words in the titles. There are great songs on here, and some decent ones, some 'meh' ones, and some God-awful ones that I will skip over every, damn time. If one of your determining factors when selecting a Christmas album is consistency, than this one is certainly not your jam.

Ultimately, it comes down to an appreciation of the genre itself, and when it comes to punk rock, rules aren't meant to be blindly adhered to. Cohesiveness and consistency? I guess none of that really matters in the end with punk rock. As shitty as some of the songs on here are, there's enough glorious, Holiday moments to be found on here to keep it in rotation.  Oi Oi Oi.

VERDICT:  7/10 - Pretty Rad (If it were possible to rank it a '6.5' I would, but we don't do that '.5' sorta shit around these parts.)

- REMAINS IN CIRCULATION -

- Brian

The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. XCII

Boys and girls of all ages, I present to you now the return of America's Greatest Yuletide Event:

The Great Christmas Record Odyssey.

By now, as we come into my eighth 'season' of documenting this is, you should all know how this works, but in case you need a refresher of this, one of my all-time favorite Holiday traditions, here's a run-down.

Since I first started collecting vinyl, back in 2005, I've gotten into the habit of hauling out all of my Christmas vinyl at the start of the Holiday Pre-Season (now-ish, mid-November) and stacking it up in 'staging' area.  Then, over the course of the next month and a half, I methodically listen to every, single album, scrutinizing the holy hell out of it.  The good ones stay in rotation, and are played repeatedly throughout the year.  The okay ones are put aside for future use, but lose their spot in the playlist for the rest of the season.  The bad ones are ridiculed to shreds and donated to the nearest thrift store at the earliest possible convenience.

And then I go through the entire process all over again the following year, armed with a new stack of Christmas vinyl to burn through.

Now, as this is the first installment in this year's season of vinyl reviewin', I'll once again direct your attention to the cherished rating scale we use around these parts:

10 - . . . And Out Come the Wolves (a symbol of perfection, and arguably one of the greatest albums made in the last thirty years)

9 - Cowabunga! (if it makes you want to shout like a Ninja Turtle, you know it's good.)

8 - Awesome (worthy of repeated spins during the Holidays)

7 - Pretty Rad (generally, in order for an album of mine to stay in Holiday Season Rotation, it needs to be rated '7' and up.)

6 - Decent (once and awhile a '6' makes it into constant rotation, but only if it satisfies a previously-vacant Holiday music niche.  These albums almost always get 'Shelved':  I hold on to them - for the time being - but they lose turntable time for the duration of the Season.)

5 - Meh  (anything below this point is almost always put into my annual 'Donate to Goodwill' pile)

4 - Borophyll (there may be some redeeming qualities here that might make albums at this score appeal to some people, but definitely not Yours Truly.)

3 - Seriously? (comically bad, if you will.)

2 - Reality TV (there's only one thing shittier than Reality TV in my opinion, and that is. . .)

1 - Ohio (the Ninth Circle of Hell)

Good.  Now that everyone's been refreshed with how shit works around here, let's just go ahead and get started, shall we. . .

Album Title:  White Christmas

Album Artist:  Dennis Day Orchestra & Choir

I recently went into Radio Wasteland after a hiatus of nearly 10 months.  That's a long period of time, but one that was forced upon me by the fact that I've almost run out of record shelving for new albums, and, more importantly, the cost of vinyl over the last year has gone up astronomically.  

I, for one, refuse to spend $30 on a brand new LP. . . but that's a tale for another time, let's focus on Christmas jams this evening.  

Anyway, the whole reason I finally returned to my favorite record store was to get my grubby mitts on their collection of God-awful, Dollar Bin Holiday albums before society started hunting for Christmas music.  Jim, the owner of the store, usually makes a social media post towards the beginning of November advertising all the store's new and vintage Christmas releases, and I wanted to beat the rush this year.

Mission accomplished.

I walked out of his store with about 24 albums - which you'll have to suffer through over the course of the next couple years, I'm afraid - and this gem right here was among them.  I had already reviewed a good chunk of the artists I came across while digging through the Dollar Bin - many have had their moment in the spotlight on this Great Christmas Record Odyssey of ours - but I've never heard of this guy before.

Dennis Day.

At first glance, he looks like a pleasant, Burl Ives-ish sorta guy.  Jolly enough, but you know just by looking at him that he enjoys a whiskey and an off-color joke about 'an Oriental.'  I think it's the eyes - he definitely gives off vibes like he honestly wants to wish you a Merry Christmas, but if you wanna run your mouth like an asshole he has no qualms with putting his fist in it.  Dude probably served in a war (based on the dated packaging, I'm guessing it was The Big One), chain-smoked whatever he could get his hairy-knuckled hands on, and has a history of spousal abuse.

Still, the guy went out of his way to grab himself a brace of orphans for this picture.  The boy clearly doesn't mind sitting on Dennis' lap, but the girl doesn't seem thrilled with it.

Where the f*** is Dennis' hands?

Anyway, hokey packaging aside, this is a pretty bland affair from start to finish.  I was honestly hoping for something more comically bad than what we ended up with here:  Dennis can sorta sing, and the arrangements aren't terrible, per se (definitely heavy on the church organs, but the sound levels are at least mixed well.)  There's a choir doing background vocals, and they're subtle enough that you can never really tell if it's kids or women singing.  All in all, the non-religious songs on this album come across like just about anything else you'd hear coming out of the 1940s/50s, and the pipe organ-heavy, religious carols sound like they were performed during a church service.  Bland as beige paint and just as forgettable.

If anything, the most eyebrow-raising thing on this entire album is Dennis' voice - it does not match his appearance at all.  You'd think a dude looking like this would have a more booming or gruff voice, but he has this higher-pitched, softer voice (in that nasally, 1940s style, of course.)  While he can carry a tune without drawing anyone's ire, it wasn't expected and I'm kinda let down that we missed out on an opportunity for some classic, good ol' fashioned ridiculing.

Oh well, maybe next time.

VERDICT:  4/10 - Borophyll (Nothing overly terrible here, and I'm sure this could appeal to some folks, but the entire affair is bland and lacks any kind of redeeming qualities for Yours Truly.  You hurt my feelings, Dennis.)

- SHELVED -

- Brian

The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. LXXXIX

Time to get some Q.T in with the Rog, folks. . . 

Album Title:  The Roger Whittaker Christmas Album

Album Artist:  Roger Whittaker

If you've ever spent time in a thrift store digging through crates of moldy vinyl, searching for those usually non-existent rare finds, then you've definitely come across the name 'Roger Whitaker' before.  He shares crate space with the likes of Mantovani, Lawrence Welk, The Lettermen, and others of such ilk in just about every Salvation Army and Goodwill I've ever set foot in.

And folks, that's not a good thing.  There's a reason why folks dump such records off for a cheap tax write-off (along with soiled and outgrown childrens' clothing and tacky dishware that were found in a deceased grandparent's cupboards):  it's straight-up garbage.

Someone get this man some Head & Shoulders. . .

I've come across Roger a handful of times over the years, always on compilations (featuring some of the previously mentioned assholes), and I've never once been impressed by the guy.  How this dude managed to sell so many albums in his prime is beyond comprehension.  While listening to the opening track on Side 1 of this album, I'm convinced he's trying to be Cat Stevens (kinda almost sounds like him for a hot minute), until the slicked-up 70's production kicks in and the entire track drowns in cheese.  

After that opener, the album descends into music that can only be described as Grandparent Easy Listening.  The dude's got a baritone voice, for sure, but he can't seem to manage to bring that sense of gravitas to his songs like Elvis, Johnny Cash, Joe Cocker, or other similarly deep-voiced singers can do.  Nay, readers, Roger sounds like he's got one corduroy-slacked leg into an afternoon nap.  This near-yawning of his warbles along atop dated song arrangements that sound SO Late '70s you can almost picture the pornographic film they were likely inspired by. 

These two factors, while not doing Roger any favors when determining this album's overall rating, could be somewhat overlooked if the son of a bitch would at least have put some familiar Christmas songs on this release.  But no, we don't get any familiarity here whatsoever - it's a bunch of oddball weirdness, and honestly it's like some wood-paneled, shag-carpeted, parallel dimension where the only Christmas music that exists is bullshit that no one's ever heard before. 

All of these previously unheard of Christmas songs are boring and forgettable (hence this album's unavoidable return to the moldy crates of Salvation Army very soon), but a couple of songs on this album are so Goddamn terrible that I have to mention them briefly by name before we go: 

Side 1, Track 5. 'Darcy the Dragon.'  This Medieval romp sounds like Jethro Tull offered to take on a rock opera based on Disney's 1977 film, Pete's Dragon.  Renaissance Faire peasant music gallivants along in the background while an obviously-stoned Roger spins a yarn about a misunderstood dragon being chased out of a village or something by angry peasants, where he ends up in a magical forests and somehow - somehow - discovers the meaning of Christmas.  Or something, I don't know - it's only like three minutes minutes into the damn song that they somehow work Christmas into the lyrics.  I don't get why this song exists.

Side 1, Track 6. 'The Governor's Dream.'  The very next song, equally f***ed up, is some half-spoken word, half-song mini-play about Ancient Rome, wherein Roger plays the part of some Roman Governor who is troubled by. . . the Nativity?  An omen?  Something to do with Baby Jesus, I'm sure - how else are Romans being associated with Christmas if not by association with Baby Jesus?  So Roger acts out this song, speaking instead of singing quite a lot of the time, but then the music kicks in and a loud, boisterous chorus begins to rattle the rafters.  What ensues is a full-on shouting match with his backing choir, who continue to sing stuff like, 'Glory, Glory,' etc., and in return he starts barking at them like an angry, old racist yelling at a bunch of black teens to stop using the sidewalk in front of his house.  Repeated bellowing of "WHO SINGS, WHO SHOUTS?" from Roger Whittaker is just what the house was missing this Holiday Season, for sure.

At the end of listening to this album, I'm sure my facial expression matched the one on the kid to the far left:

VERDICT:  3/10 - Seriously? (WHO SINGS, WHO SHOUTS???)

- SHELVED -

- Brian

The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. LXXXVII

Strap on your Holiday pants and get ready for an ole timey Christmas jam session. . . 

Album Title:  A Music Box Christmas

Album Artist:  None (yes, seriously)

I never thought I'd actually review an album that no one performs on.

This album is free of human beings entirely.  Not one human being on the entire frickin' record.  No one sings, no one plays instruments, no one does anything (unless you count the guy that winds up each music box and lets it play.)

As the album artwork suggests, this is a recording of various music boxes, each that plays a Christmas carol, borrowed from the collection of Rita Ford (no, not Lita Ford.)  I'm assuming they borrowed a couple totes of music boxes from this Rita chick, drove them down to the recording studio, set them up one at a time time in the sound booth, cranked 'em up and let 'em fly.  

Honestly, a pretty easy way to make yourself a Christmas record, folks - the only work required is to wind up a frickin' box.

So I'm honestly not sure how to go about reviewing this album.  There's nothing particularly wrong with it, I guess - it's 100% a bunch of music boxes playing different Christmas favorites - but it's far from what I'd consider enjoyable music.  If you've never  before in your life heard a music box playing a melody, it sounds like various lengths of tiny, metal tubes being struck in different patterns in order to create high-pitched, tinny, almost bell-like sounds.  Very mechanical, and very painful on your ears.

Some people love these mechanisms, and while they used to be all the rage back in, oh, the late 1800s, they went the way of the dinosaur once the phonograph arrived on the scene (click on the pic below if you're interested in the history of music boxes.)  You can still find these wind-up little melody contraptions inside little girls' jewelry boxes and things like that (you know, where you open the lid and there's like a little ballerina spinning around or some shit, I don't know.)  Hell, we have one ourselves that's part of our regular Halloween decor - it's from Disney's Haunted Mansion and plays the ride's signature theme song, 'Grim Grinning Ghosts.'  Pretty awesome.

All things considered, music boxes are fine for what they are - something you wind up once in awhile in order to hear a simple melody - but I, personally, am of the opinion that one should not record a whole frickin' Christmas album with them.  It's just too much.  Even a 7" recording would be a stretch, let alone a full-length LP.  So it's taking this into consideration that I have to rate this particular album pretty low:  while the craftsmanship that went into these hundreds-year-old contraptions is certainly nothing to scoff at - they still sound flawless after all this time - this record is painful (literally) to listen to, and not something you'd ever be in the mood to listen to.

VERDICT:  4/10 - Borophyll (I'm giving this album a few mercy points because, to be fair, the music boxes themselves are clearly works of art. . . but that doesn't mean any of us should have to listen to them for longer than, oh, thirty seconds.)

- SHELVED -

- Brian

The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. LXXXVI

Who's ready for some Yuletide crappiness? 

Album Title:  Merry Christmas from

Album Artist:  Lawrence Welk and his Champagne Music

Right off the bat, when I first saw this lil' gem in the dollar bin at Radio Wasteland last week, I noticed the fine print that read "and his champagne music."  As if champagne music is a.) a thing, and b.) commonly associated with Lawrence Welk.  Like you'd be walking your sidewalk down the street back in - I don't know when he was around, the '50s? - and he'd drive past you in his convertible blasting this signature music of his, and you'd say to your dog (because obviously if you know this much about Lawrence Welk, you're certifiably insane), "Hey Gina, there goes Lawrence Welk and his champagne music. . ."

Makes sense, right?

Not sure how 'champagne' sounded in the '50s, guys. . . but I wouldn't have expected it to sound like this.

This is the ugliest Christmas Tree I've ever seen.

Nope.  This, to me, sounds like kid-friendly, '50s-mainstream Disney music; watered down, rated G, and appropriate for listeners of all ages.  Like, remember that Disney live-action movie, Parent Trap?  Imagine that they made a sequel to that movie, and it was Christmas-themed (like, if the kids have to get their parents to re-divorce over the Holidays or something, I don't know.)  Well, the soundtrack to that train-wreck of a movie premise would sound like this.  

. . . what do you think he has in the box?

Not sure how champagne factors into that at all.

I don't know much about this Lawrence Welk guy, but the way these songs are listed, I'm assuming he's some kinda song arranger, not necessarily a musician or singer.  On a few of these numbers, he has vocals credited to other people, who must've been hired to sing over some of his numbers.  

There are several singers on this collection, but the most prominent are some group known as The Sparklers, who must have landed on their group name because they're the vocal equivalent to actual sparklers. Which, as we all know, are the lamest form of fireworks in existence - at the bottom-of-the-barrel on the  Fourth of July Fun scale.

The Sparklers sound like a squeaky-clean ensemble that was first spotted singing in their church youth group, and their pastor told them that singing on a Lawrence Welk album was their big ticket to stardom.  Being a bunch of naive virgin idiots - I guarantee you every, last one of The Sparklers is a virgin - they pounced at the opportunity.  The same could probably be said for the Lennon Sisters, another vocal group hired to sing on this album, who sound like they're a couple of ten-year-olds.

(I'm not about to make a joke about those kids being virgins too, folks.  Damn straight those kids are virgins.)

Anyway, I could go in more detail here, buuuuuut. . . there's no point.  This is the most unoffensive, child-friendly, G-rate Christmas album that I've heard in a long, long time, and it all sounds the same.  To the point where you're not sure where one song ends and another song begins. . . like being stuck on the It's a Small World ride at Disneyland, only it's Christmas-themed and instead of little, stereotyped doll-things from around the world you have choirs made up of either church-virgins or little girls, all with smiles on their faces so wide you'd think they were frozen in place with Botox.

VERDICT:  4/10 - Borophyll (Like being stuck on a Disneyland ride for too long, this album's G-rated nonsense will grind its way into your skull.  And the only way to get rid of it is by driving it out with a bullet.)

- SHELVED -

- Brian

The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. LXXV

 Finally.  Time to liven up the ol' turntable with a solid helping of Yuletide badass-ness. . .

Album Title:  Complete Christmas Songbook

Album Artist:  Los Straitjackets

This is a FUN Christmas album.  I had never heard of Los Straitjackets before, outside of a couple songs they had released on existing compilations I own, and that I always thought were good jams.  When I saw this two-disc, brand new collection of every Holiday song these guys have ever recorded in their thirty-plus year career (yes, this band has been around that long), for an unheard of $6 on Amazon, I had no choice but to pull the trigger.

And that, dear readers, may be one of the best purchased I've ever made on Amazon.  Ever.

Folks, this holiday collection is practically flawless.  This is The Ventures with a Tijuana seasoning (despite that all these guys are gringos from Nashville, which you totally wouldn't guess from their sound and love of wearing Mexican Wrestling masks.)  This band dishes out an explosive mix of classic surf guitar and energetic drumming (with a twist of salt and lime) that roars out of the starting gate without once tripping up on its feet.  This truly sounds like a band that has played together for years - military-precision timing tells you these guys can anticipate one another's playing styles, which creates enjoyable, crisp, well-executed arrangements that perfectly capture every single Holiday song in a way that does each song justice, while maintaining the band's own signature sound.

I hate to say it folks, and you might think I'm crazy for sayin' it, but these guys do a better job of being The Ventures than The Ventures do.  There.  I said it.

There really isn't a weak song on this entire release, though I will admit that their strengths lie in their faster numbers.  Nothing necessarily wrong with their slower numbers, but they're clearly not as well-centered in the band's comfort zone.  

This album is perfect for so many situations, too.  Having a party?  Throw this sum'bitch on the turntable, no question.  Gift wrapping presents?  This one is perfect.  Decorating a Christmas tree?  Yup.  Driving around, looking at Christmas lights?  Can't think of a better album to listen to.  In all honesty, the only situation I can think of that this wouldn't be suitable for is, perhaps, sitting in a church service.  Or looking at one of those live-action Nativity scenes.

And even then, I'd still probably be cool with this.

As far as instrumental records go, this one very well may be in my Top Three.  Like, right up there with Vince Guaraldi Trio's Charlie Brown Christmas.  I think what eventually takes this one down a peg is the fact that, much like other albums I've reviewed over the years, many of these songs start to sound the same after awhile.  If this was a ten-track album, this might not be too big of a deal. . . but there are 27 tracks on this release, and most of them have a very similar sound.  That, and there's a couple 'live' songs at the end of Side D where there are actually vocals here and there, which, after three sides of pure instrumentals, is kinda like having a bucket of cold water thrown in your face.

Minor gripes, really, but there you go.

VERDICT:  9/10 - Cowabunga! (You'd be hard-pressed to find a better instrumental Holiday album.)

- REMAINS IN CIRCULATION -

- Brian

The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. LXXIV

 Okay, guys.  Let's get this one over with. . .

Album Title:  Home for the Holidays

Album Artist:  Various Artists

So, again from the depths of the Bethesda stack of vinyl I've been working through this year, comes this shining Yuletide turd.  I knew this one was going to be a comically bad Christmas album the second I picked it up.  Just take a gander at the cover art on this sum'bitch - a young couple showing up on the doorstep of an elderly woman (one would assume being the mother or grandmother of one of the two younger adults), not really ridiculous by any means.  So what's the big deal?  

The small mutant the man is carrying.

Behold Kuato.

This little kid - which is, I believe, the love spawn of the couple - is so poorly illustrated that it resembles not so much a young child as it does Kuato from Ah-nold Schwarzenegger's 1990 so-bad-it's-good sci-fi thriller, Total Recall.  The likeness is so uncanny that it borders on copyright infringement, but, you know, this album was released in 1978, thirteen-ish years before the movie.  Whatever.

Anyway, poorly executed cover art aside, this release promises to be absolutely God-awful by just observing the featured artists on the track listing.  I mean, just look at this train wreck - this is a Who's Who of a Holiday Dumpster Fire:

Pat Boone kicks things off on Side A, Track 1, with a warm-milk version of 'Hark the Herald Angels Sing,' which, you know, is supposed to be a song to praise the birth of Christ, and sung triumphantly. . . not sung like you were trying to softly console someone on their death bed.  Lawrence Welk similarly puts everyone in the lobby to sleep on 'Silver Bells,' with his living room organ (you know, the type your grandparents had) whirling with warbly abandon. 

A handful of instrumental tracks, while not necessarily horrible, are so boring that they fade into the background (the exception being Robert Shaw's take on 'Hallelujah' from Handel's Messiah, which is decent.)  I mean, even actively listening to his album - like you do when placing a record on a turntable - it's still easy to overlook when the instrumentals begin and end on this album.  They're short to begin with, and just kinda bleed together in an endless sea of laize-faire Holiday blah-ness, almost serving as filler between the total disaster bombs that are the vocal tracks on this release.

And Holy Goddamn Shit, another children's choir?  What's up with these vintage Christmas album producers?  As bad as some of these other acts may be, they throw in a frickin' children's ensemble to perform 'Jingle Bells.'   This, without the common decency to even try and sound like a church choir (which, at the very least, is somewhat excusable - maybe sing a soprano-ish 'Silent Night' or something.)  No.  These little assholes sound more like an unrehearsed 3rd grade class in a crappy school Christmas program, shouting (yes, not singing) at the top of their lungs.  This is only somewhat cute when your own kid is in the 3rd grade class performing, and you've got a sweet vantage point from which to record some home video.  

Even then, the entire experience is far from 'awesome.'  It's tolerable at best.

So yeah, on an adult, at-the-time 'contemporary' compilation, throwing a bunch of children shout-singing onto the track listing is a completely stupid move.  It's a slap in the face (which, admittedly, would wake you up from this otherwise snooze-fest of a record.)  To put a cherry on top of this corn-riddled, steaming pile of shit - this children's ensemble is none other than the f***ing Brady Bunch.  Like, from television.  Recording a frickin' Christmas song on an otherwise made-for-adulst compilation.  

I hope this record producer was dragged out into the alley behind the studio and beaten to death with his own shoes.

So is there any saving grace on this album?  Yeah, yeah there is.  

Loretta Lynn has a spunky little number on the opening track of Side 2, 'Santa Claus is Coming to Town,' delivered in her feisty, I-just-walked-into-the honky-tonk-to-confront-my-man-cheating-on-me signature style.  If you like Loretta Lynn - and I, for one, love me some Loretta Lynn - this song is exactly what you'd expect from her, which helps elevate this Christmas compilation to a very small degree.

And then comes from motherf***in' Bing Crosby, who slams down his classic version of 'It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas' like an angry dad with a few beers in his system coming home, earlier than anticipated, to find his teenage kids throwing a party and trashing his house.  They thought he'd be gone all night, but nope - here he comes, bursting through the front door, putting the fear of God into the likes of Liberace, Roger Williams, and Pete Fountain, who all drop their red Solo cups and stare like dear in headlights.  Shitty recording artists suddenly make a mad scramble to bolt out of the house without being caught and having their parents called, leaving behind clear evidence of their God-awful Holiday songs.

And yes, order is finally restored, now that Dad is home.  But the house, dear readers, is nonetheless still trashed.

VERDICT:  3/10 - Seriously? (Bing and Loretta come home earlier than anticipated and break up an out-of-control teenage party at their house, thereby scoring a couple sympathy points, but far too late to save their home from being destroyed with Yuletide shittiness.)

- SHELVED -

- Brian

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. LXXI

Time to cozy up to the fire and put on another slab of Holiday vinyl, America. . .

Album Title:  A Merry Christmas to You

Album Artist:  David Rose and His Orchestra

Again, straight out of the Bethesda stack we've been working through over the course of these last few posts, comes this offering from 'David Rose' and 'His Orchestra.'  This one here didn't really stand out to me in the store, one way or the other:  the artwork is 'meh,' not awesome and not overly-hokey or anything like that, I was honestly pretty underwhelmed by the selection.

But I mean, come on. . . 59 cents.

If anything, the fact that is said it was David Rose was pretty funny.  I don't know if you guys watch Schitt'$ Creek or not, but David Rose (played by Eugene Levy's son) is a pretty hilarious character.  If that dude came out with a Christmas album I'd probably buy it (though, him being gay and everything, it'd probably be a lot of cabaret-ish, glittery nonsense. . . like Elton John or Liberace.)

Anyway, this album totally blindsided me.  This is a true orchestral record, not just saying '. . . and His Orchestra' like so many other albums do, and then featuring like a trombone, an accordion, a trumpet, a bass, and a piano.  Nope, this is the full set-up, folks:  string section, wind section, brass section, percussion section, you name it.  I don't get many true orchestral albums pass through this Record Odyssey of mine, so when they do it's like a bolt of silver lightning on a clear day.

This album is good.

Gonna have to go out on a limb here and say this is bullshit.

The arrangements rely heavily on the medley method, which is preferable when it comes to religious carols:  abridged carols and traditional songs get their chief melodies highlighted, then blended together seamlessly, as if the arrangers wanted to include every highlight of the season onto one Holiday LP.  This was a smart move, because being instrumental this release doesn't need to get bogged down into lyric-focused religious carols with their many, many verses.

Have you ever sung a Christmas carol at church?  There's like six frickin' verses to every song, they go on forever.)

If I had any criticisms, folks, it would be this:  this orchestra doesn't hit the highs and lows of, say, Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker (one of the few other orchestral albums we've reviewed here over the years.)  There's no dynamic forte sections here to speak of, as David Rose instead relies on dreamy, laid-back arrangements you might expect to find in a Christmas-themed Fantasia (if Disney ever produced a Christmas-themed Fantasia film back in the '50s.)  So if the majority of your arrangements are middle-of-the-road - never hitting those highs and lows that you'd find in a traditional symphony, for example - it's probably awesome for, say, television (where you need consistent background music), but not necessarily for focused listening.

Yep.  Another 'From Our Family to Yours' message.  Jesus. . .

I'd have to dock a couple points for that reason alone, folks.  Is this a good album?  Absolutely.  Would it benefit from maybe upping the ante in parts?  For sure.  I've had several albums I've reviewed over the years that stumble into this trap - the entire album sounds the same, so that eventually it just bleeds away into the background.  If you want to engage the listener, mix it up a little.  The great songs on here are great, no question about it, but there's a heck of a lot of filler, as well as some songs that, while there's nothing necessarily wrong with them, per se, aren't easily recognizable.  Rose is forced at some points to blend Holiday carols together with unique bits of melody in order to make them work, which is commendable, but since they're not recognizable you kinda don't get the Christmas-y vibe from 100% of this album.

So, as such, I'm going to have to officially state that this is a good record, that misses the opportunity to be great, which is regrettable.  However, due to it's uncommon sound (orchestral medley arrangements), I think I'll keep it in rotation this year, and re-evaluate its position next season.

VERDICT:  6/10 - Decent (A good orchestral Christmas album, that gets docked a few points for being too repetitive and bland in parts. Also, being from the '50s and everything, it's practically falling apart - kinda thinking I need to reorder this one on Discogs.)

- REMAINS IN CIRCULATION -

- Brian