The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. CXL

Who's ready to dance with a sword? Dance with a sword in the sand?

Album Title:  Christmas Island

Album Artist:  Jimmy Buffet

This one isn't any stranger to Yours Truly, I've been listening to this one for decades. 

Honestly, it's kinda bizarre I hadn't picked this album up yet, considering how far I lean into Christmas vinyl. 

Anyway, in case you were born a child of neglect and spent your formative years handcuffed at the ankle to a soiled mattress and rusty bed frame in your foster parents' basement, Jimmy Buffett is one of those polarizing artists that folks tend to either adore or despise. While I can see the criticism he often receives, namely that his music is gimmicky ('cause everything he made after he transitioned from his country roots in the '70s and leaned hard into his island phase is definitely gimmicky), I personally love it. Jimmy made a fortune mashing together his country roots with tropical escapism and calypso, creating a brand new genre that is tailor-made for boats, beaches, palm trees, and - arguably most of all - drinking. 

I'm not going to waste time reviewing Jimmy Buffet the artist, because most of us (except for those of us who spent most of our time trapped in a foster home basement, obviously) already know this guy's work inside and out. Instead, I want to focus on how this Holiday album differs from his other Holiday album that we reviewed on this blog eight years ago. 'Tis the Season was a much more polished affair that saw a decades-older Jimmy Buffet (2016), far past the point where he performed for the sheer joy of it, and certainly no longer needing the money, more or less phoning it in. It was a clean, overly-produced set of songs performed (I assume) by hired studio musicians without any heart going into it whatsoever, and I was incredibly let down upon giving it a spin for the first time.

Pretty sure I've only listened to it once or twice since reviewing it, and my opinion hasn't changed. Fight me.

On this earlier (1996) recording, Christmas Island, we have a Jimmy still in his 50s, still having fun with his Coral Reefer Band, and laying down some original tracks as well as his take of Holiday standards with the same sort of energy you would find on his famous 'greatest hits' album, Songs You Know By Heart. Before going forward, I should go ahead and state the obvious here: if you're one of those people who can't stand Jimmy Buffett's music, because you don't like how he's always singing about boat drinks and drifting away and the sea and all that stuff, you're probably not going to like this. And you should probably just go ahead and skip the rest of this review.

However, if you're like me and the millions of other people out there who do enjoy his music, you should know that this album is more or less in the same vein as Songs You Know By Heart. . . just with Christmas as the unifying theme. 'Cause, you know, it's a Holiday album. Try and keep up, guys.

Jimmy's original songs on this album are all great songs, and that's saying something because if we've learned anything here in this ol' blog of mine over the last ten years, it's that including one's original Christmas songs on a Holiday album is rarely a good thing. I've heard more comically bad Christmas originals that most, and rarely have I been impressed by them. Considering there's nearly a hundred of free, public domain Holiday music out there to choose from - dating back hundreds of years to Christian carols penned to traditional medieval tunes - it's not a risk a lot of artists choose to take (and rightfully so.) Still, just as many artists fall victim to hubris and believe that they alone are capable of adding their holiday originals to the Christmas Canon. 

And, well, they usually fall flat on their ass in the process.

The stand-out track on this album, in my opinion, is Jimmy's own, "Ho Ho Ho and a Bottle of Rhum," (a sly play on words from the traditional pirate "Yo Ho Ho") an original that sounds like it could have been included on Songs You Know By Heart. It features his natural story-telling lyricism, the arrangement is flawless, and you can hear just how much f***ing fun him and his band are having recording it. This is what makes Jimmy Buffet an amazing artist for me: every upbeat song of his is a party, and everyone's invited. And in this song's case, Santa is first on the guest list.

The lyric of "dance with a sword/dance with a sword in the sand" conjures up hilarious imagery of Santa Clause channeling his inner-pirate, and that might be the single best line on the entire album.

Originals aside, Jimmy and the Coral Reefers do a sound job on the seven or eight traditional numbers on this album. In order to pull off a successful recording or performance of a cover, you can either a.) perform it so well that it doesn't distract from the original, or b.) put a little spin on it and make the song your own. They go back and forth with this, with some songs - like Chuck Berry's "Run Run Rudolph" or Bing Crosby's "Mele Kalikimaka" - are straight-forward covers that are performed close to the originals. You can tell who's performing them, sure, but Jimmy opts to avoid using a lot of his island muscle in the instrumentation. They had the marimba and steel drums wheeled into storage for these recordings.

This is a safe play, sure, but I definitely still prefer the originals in both cases (it's hard to top Chuck Berry, folks.) Other covers get more of the Key West bar band approach, as if you were stumbling into Sloppy Joe's (my favorite Key West Bar - highly recommend going if you ever get the chance, Hemmingway drank there), and saw an island-themed cover band performing Christmas songs on the rum-soaked stage. The steel drums and marimba are wheeled back out, there's a few ukuleles on hand, plenty of harmonica (obviously), and a slew of background vocalists and percussionists fighting for a spot to stand on the crowded stage.  "Jingle Bells" and "Up on the Housetop" are both rollicking numbers that play to Jimmy's strengths, namely that he's a fun artist that makes fun music.

It should come as no surprise that there aren't any religious carols to be found anywhere on this album (thank God, that'd be jarring as hell.)

That's not to say that this album is one, giant party-monster, though - his country roots are on full display here, too. Jimmy's no stranger to slowing down songs and relying on his guitar and knack for world-weary story-telling to deliver a solid song. "I'll Be Home for Christmas" and "Merry Christmas, Alabama (Never Far From Home)" are more akin to "Son of a Sailor" or "He Went to Paris" than "Fins" or "Cheeseburger in Paradise." This duality to his songwriting is what makes him such a prolific artist, and on this Holiday album we see more of the old Jimmy Buffet that we grew up with in the '80s than the multi-millionaire Jimmy that ended up endorsing presidential candidates and opening up restaurant chains throughout Florida later in life.

If I have any issues with this album, it's that it plays to its audience too much - always playing it safe with its arrangements and instrumentation. "Let's record "We Wish You a Merry Christmas," but we'll add lots of slide guitar and steel drums and include lyrics about rum and getting sunburned." While this approach appeals to just about any Parrothead or casual Buffett fan out there, it isn't going to win over any new fans, especially from those who already have a dislike for his existing catalog. As such I'm going to have to knock them a point for not branching out a bit and trying new things, as well as an additional point for being, well, too damn short (only eleven songs on this track list, and I could have used twenty.)

VERDICT:  8/10 - Awesome  (Jimmy Buffet records a Christmas album, and it sounds exactly like Jimmy Buffet recording a Christmas album.)

- REMAINS IN CIRCULATION -

- Brian

The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. XCIX

Welcome back to the Holliest, Jolliest, Musically-Snobbiest corner of Cyberspace. . .

Album Title:  A Christmas Album: New Songs for an Old Celebration

Album Artist:  Connie Kaldor

Whatever I thought I was going to end up with when purchasing this record a month ago. . . dear Christ, I was wrong.  

Without a doubt, today's LP was purchased solely because of the album cover art, which - while disgusting to look at - provides us with zero clues as to what the actual record is going to sound like.  There's no one famous listed anywhere on the album cover, just a 'Connie Kaldor' (as if any of us know who the hell that is.)  There's a date (Nov. 4, 186) and a radio station scrawled across the top of the album in ugly, green marker; WGNC-FM, which, when I looked up it up on the ol' Internet, is a Christian radio station broadcasting from Constantine, Michigan.

I have no idea where that is.

Who decorates a tree like this. . .

Anyway, the album cover is as random and ugly as the tracks of this LP, folks.  The first song on Side A - 'Last Month of the Year' sounds like a slave spiritual song that had been passed down through the generations until it ended up in some evangelical church somewhere in the Deep South, where the Whites got a hold of it and made it their own.  This is out of place enough, but then 'Island Santa' starts and suddenly we're listening to a poppy, 80's calypso number that reminds one of the music you'd expect to hear playing behind the intro credits of a 1980s comedy that takes place on a beach somewhere in the Caribbean.  It's a poorly-contrived impression of Jimmy Buffet's take on Christmas music, and - like every other artist who tries to rip off Buffet - it falls flat on its face.

As the album plays on, I find myself becoming more and more annoyed with Connie's delivery.  She can carry notes (a little), but her voice never sounds authentic.  It's like she couldn't decide what kind of album she should cut with this LP, so she just waltzed into her local recording studio and said 'screw it, we're doing everything.'

Connie changes her singing styles as often as the tracks on this album change genres, and it's. . . really annoying.  'Mincemeat Tart' and 'Christmas Time (Gonna Be Home)' (who the f*** decided a song with a title like this warranted placement on a frickin' Christmas album) sounds like she's trying too hard to hard to be the love child of Melissa Ethridge and George Thorogood, with an imitation raspy, whiskey-burnt throat.  With  'Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,' in contrast, she sounds like the best singer in the choir of your Contemporary Service at your local church (you know, the service that starts at 11:15am, so you can sleep in a little, but it's not as quality as the 9am Traditional Service.)

And on the 'country' numbers like 'If We Make It to December' or  'Cowboy Christmas'?  Don't jump to conclusions now and assume she's trying to do her shitty impressions of Dolly, Tammy, or Loretta.  Nope.  On these ones she sounds more like when Barney (yes, the purple dinosaur) and his gaggle of underage hangers-on visit a farm and they bring out some shitty 'farmhand' to show the kids what life on the farm is like, and then they of course break out in song.

It's that shitty.

One final note on this one, folks.  There are 'musicians' listed here on the back of the album cover, but most of the music on this record could just as well be a pre-recorded backing track (because most of the 'instruments' sound like it's a loop on some 'state of the art' 1980s Casio keyboard.)  There's some guitar work here and there, but this is probably performed by the same earring-ed, pony-tailed guy that owns the recording studio.  He's probably part of the recording package she purchased.

So yeah.  This one was really, really weird, guys.

VERDICT:  4/10 - Borophyll (A Canadian grifter from the 1980s throws just about everything at the wall to see what sticks, and ends up giving us one of the most inconsistent and comically bad Christmas albums of the season.  It's actually just like the ugly Christmas tree from the album cover, but in song form.)

- SHELVED-

- Brian

The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. XXXVI

Welcome back, Internet.  Time for some yuletide jam scrutinage. . .

Album Title:  'Tis the Season

Album Artist:  Jimmy Buffet

This is one of those no-brainers, guy.  It's Jimmy Buffet, for Christ's sake.

If you've ever listened to a Buffet song in your life, you know exactly what this album sounds like:  Caribbean-infused country versions of Christmas favorites, as well as some less-known songs and even a few original compositions thrown in for good measure.  Lots of steel drums, lots of steel guitar, lots of hokey lyrics.

Again, it's Jimmy Buffet.

I gotta say, though, I'm glad I snagged this on sale for $8 instead of paying full price for it (despite the fact that it's on heavy-duty, white vinyl - I love me a gimmick.)  You know how people say you can tell if someone's smiling over the phone by the way their voice sounds?  Well, Jimmy Buffet isn't smiling much on this album:  he sounds like he's simply going through the motions to pocket another paycheck.  This whole album sounds phoned-in - it's definitely a let-down.

Did they photoshop this to make him look built?

There isn't any fire on this album - no stand-out tracks, no passion, no fury - and that's disappointing, because I'm a big fan of his other Holiday album, Christmas Island.  That album - recorded twenty years before this one - sounds like the whole band was having a blast throughout the entire recording process.  Lyrics about pirates and drinking in the sun - you could practically hear the Puerto Rican rum splashing all over the studio microphones.

'Tis the Season suffers from a few different things, aside from it's lazy and lackluster performance from Buffet.  For one, the entire album sounds less country and more Seaworld Orlando, as if Buffet - whose country background in the early 1970s gives his more famous work such heart - said to himself, "Oh, the Caribbean thing sells with the consumers, eh?  Let's increase the tropical sound by 170% and lose all the country bullshit."  There's almost too much steel drum on this LP, it's frickin' jarring.

I don't buy this camaraderie for one second.

Secondly, the song choice is terrible.  Just terrible.  Christmas Island had enough original music and enough well-executed versions of Holiday standards to really draw a line in the sand (with a pirate cutlass, obviously):  this is the 'Jimmy Buffet Christmas Album.'  'Tis the Season, on the other hand, comes across as 'Another Jimmy Buffet-sounding Album of Christmas Songs.'  Those two things are in no way, shape or form even remotely similar to one another.

Actually, you know what this album sounds like?  It sounds like all the band members flew into their state-of-the-art LA studio (the production value of this album is spotless,) being forced to ride coach because Buffet is too stingy to splurge on First Class for them.   The band all hate each other now, but Jimmy Buffet Inc. is a cash cow and they're not going to bite the hand that feeds them.  Upon arrival, Jimmy's talent agent gives all the musicians their marching orders - Jimmy doesn't even bother showing up to pretend he likes the band at this point - and they all record their tracks separately.  No one ever sees Jimmy Buffet, as he's out of town opening up a new Margaritaville in Seoul.

In fact, Jimmy doesn't lay down his vocal and guitar tracks until the very end of the recording process, long after the rest of the backing band have disembarked on their various private jets back to their far-flung homes.  He does a couple takes, constantly berating the sound engineers for not doing their job making him sound like he's still in his 20s, then storms off, half-drunk and doped up on Percocet.

. . . .

. . . why the hell don't I own Christmas Island on vinyl??

VERDICT:  6/10 - Meh  (Still sounds like Jimmy Buffet, but it's a stretch at this point.  This LP is Christmas Island's younger and far-douchier brother who tries too hard to be cool.)

- SHELVED -

Dawn of a New Era

Happy New Year's, America!

How's everybody feeling today?  Like utter crap, right?

Word.

So Kris and I spent New Year's Eve up in Traverse City this year, sans kids of course (we dumped them off at my mom's, as 'kids' and 'New Year's Eve' never spells 'fun.')  My brother Chris and his new wife, Nicole, were hosting a mini-reception for their wedding up at her parents' house, foregoing the usual, full-blown reception. . . and consequently saving a butt-load of money in the process.

Nicole's folks' place in Traverse City

Still, they ended up forking out enough to treat their limited guest list with top-shelf booze, Qdoba catering, and free lodging, so we could hardly complain.

(Though that two-hour drive north definitely wasn't fun.)

All in all, there were about six couples there, a few randoms, and one kid.  So this basically meant that everyone had to eat and drink enough for seven or eight full-size adults.

Let's do this.

This was a pretty decent Imperial Brown from a local Michigan brewery.  Great way to kick off the evening.

Kris and Nicole had set up one of these. . . things. . . for people to take pictures in front of.  It would see a lot of use before the end of the night.

Kris and I ended up arriving after almost everyone else, but we still beat the Qdoba caterer by about a half an hour.  When she did show up, she brought so much food that it took her about twenty minutes to set everything up.  This was, literally, a feast for about fifty people.  The next morning, Chris and Nicole sent everyone home with a huge grocery bag FULL of Qdoba fixings.  Which, obviously, was awesome.

As a whiskey lover, the selection on hand was indeed much appreciated.  I typically gravitate towards Irish whiskeys; this one was pretty good.

That's a disgusting amount of queso.

After people took posed New Year's pics in front of that glittery backdrop (the one Kris is standing in front of), they uploaded the pic to an app connected to a blue-tooth Polaroid-ish printer.  They'd then hang the pics up on this string set-up for people to check out.

Borthers

Eventually, I decided to start printing random pictures of famous people to add to Chris and Nicole's growing collection (Ruth Bader Ginsberg, Lou Diamond Phillips, Cuba Gooding Jr., etc.)

Cleaning up the uneaten food and packaging it for people to take home.

Breaking into the good stuff. . .

I think this is the first 'couple picture' Kris and I have taken together in a few years.

There was some college football game on, but I didn't watch it.  Honestly, I don't really care for college football:  I don't get the point of watching a bunch of 19-year-old kids playing sports.

Hangin' out around the ol' 10 lb bucket of queso. . .

Locally-distilled whiskey.  You really don't think 'Traverse City' when you think of Bourbon, but it wasn't bad.

Check it out:  they randomly pulled this dude out of the netherworld to perform at Dick Clark's Rockin' New Year's Eve.  I had thought Jimmy was dead for the last six years or so.  You can imagine, then, my surprise upon learning that he's still belting out his classics today.  Inexplicably in Times Square for New Year's Eve.

The next morning, Kris and I got to drive all the way back from Grand Traverse Bay (not-quite-pictured here) to Midland in a  frickin' blizzard.  I can't begin to describe to you how shitty - and LONG - that was.

- Brian

Treasure Island

our family lives in a pretty touristy area. central florida can be a sprawling, congested, urban smear filled with bad crime and badder drivers, but, at the same time, it offers limitless sources of entertainment.

we live in orlando, but not in the touristy part you may be accustomed to. we live in a golf club part of town, which, while nice, feels nothing like touristy florida. jimmy buffet cannot be heard in the streets, but T.I. can. there are palm trees, sure, but only at major intersections and at the gates of fancy planned communities. in order to get that traditional, 'fun in the tropics' experience down here in central florida, you have to a.) go to a theme park, or b.) drive a couple hours to either coast and escape central florida all together.

now, we have a couple friends down here who have always been more than generous in the area of park admittance. its appreciated, and its awesome (as the countless pictures already posted across this here blog attest to). however, for our first 'family' vacation (as a dynamic trio), we decided to spend a few days on the coast in a beachfront hotel, living it up like a gang of tourists.

our destination: treasure island.

treasure island is located a few miles north of st. petersburg, in the greater tampa area, and is absolutely gorgeous. kris ended up finding dirt-cheap rates for a room at the treasure island bay & marina hotel, which was, by far, the best room we've ever stayed in (with the exception of a room we got once while traversing the bahamas). the view from our balcony was of the ocean and beach itself, which was literally a five minute walk from our hotel room door.

we spent as much time on that beach as humanly possible (or, rather, as alayna could tolerate without going ape-shit ballistic), and did more than our fair share of souvenir shopping along the main strip.

we also hit up john's pass - which we coincidently went to during our april mini-reunion with ex-peace corps compatriots lauren, brett, bonnie, and susannah - while we were in the neighborhood, and yours truly bought himself a new old man hat to replace my grandpa's (which i'd prefer to preserve as long as possible). in addition, we also picked up a hermit crab as a new pet while we were out there, which i was adamant about obtaining from day one...

as far as souvenirs go, you really can't go wrong with hermit crabs.

all in all, it was a solid, touristy vacation in the tropics, with a final price tag of about $400. not too shabby at all, and highly recommended for you locals out there looking for a change of scenery (as for you non-locals, it'd still run you about $400, but then add a couple hundred for the rental car and a few hundred for the plane tickets).

so yeah... our first 'family' vacation was a success. henceforth, we're making treasure island our annual mid-summer family vacation/getaway as long as we're stuck down here in the sunshine state (see also america's wang).

slainte,

- brian