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. 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

'Preperations,' or 'the Great Hawaiian Shirt Quest'

hi players.

on june 13th, we're throwing a laua (or however the hell you spell it) party. you know... big, fat sunburnt guys in hawaiian shirts and skanky native girls in coconut bras. one of those parties. its for the kid's one-year birthday. you're all invited (i'm making mai tais if you're down with rum.)

anyway...

in preparation of our kid's birthday laua, kris and i took stock of our hawaiian wardrobes and realized they were somewhat lacking. what followed was an epic quest across orlando - back and forth, back and forth - in order to find yours truly the ultimate hawaiian shirt. our journey lasted about three hours, and just about every middle-of-the-road retailer - kohl's, jc penney's, target, your mom's, etc. - was frequented. i picked up a shirt from kohl's that kris despised and that i, myself, wasn't too fond of either... but i wasn't about to go home empty-handed.

not after that odyssey.

but, as we were heading home, we opted to stop at one more store: wal-mart. yes, i hate wal-mart just as much as you do, folks. they kill small business and have out-of-wedlock relations with its wife. i'm well aware of this. but, when hawaiian shirts are on the line, all bets are off: i was on a quest.

in the end, i found two awesome shirts for $1 less than the one shitty shirt i purchased at kohl's (which still has yet to refund that $22.39 - c'mon people. seriously.) i was contemplating (briefly) on taking a picture of the shirt and posting it here, for all the world to see, but then realized that was way too much effort to put into one blog entry that probably twelve people are ever going to read, and that, out of those initial twelve, maybe only two or three would be interested in what my new hawaiian shirt looks like in the first place.

...and so, to appease those two or three readers/hawaiian shirt affenciandos (or however the hell you spell that) out there, i'll post some later when i update everybody on how the cannonball's first birthday went down. stay tuned.

do i roll?/well i guess/thunder express,

- brian

hero of the hawaiian shirt