The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. CXLV

Hey sport, you mind if I sit down next to you on this here couch and sing a couple'a Christmas songs for ya? 

Album Title:  Christmas Greetings From

Album Artist:  Jerry Vale

We can thank Radio Wasteland's Dollar Bin for this score, and I picked it up because while the name rung some bells, I didn't know anything about this guy. Based on the album sleeve, I anticipated some sort of Johnny Mathis-ish crooner from the '50s or '60s, so that right there would give one a rough idea of what you're about to immerse yourself in. Nevertheless, I'm a sucker for Christmas albums comprised of only one artist, because unlike compilations or the like, you can get a better idea of of their range over the span of several songs. So Jerry has a dozen or so songs to convince me he can deliver on a Christmas album.

Going into this album, I should reiterate that I didn't know anything about Jerry Vale at all. Upon dropping the needle on Side A, he's definitely a crooner in the same vein as Mathis, or Perry Como, etc. Unlike those two, however, Jerry sounds like a sitcom dad singing. Like, the dude's voice just sounds like it's wrapped in a sweater vest and khakis, and isn't above having a heartfelt conversation with you on a floral couch after finding a pack of cigarettes in your sock drawer.

The song choices found in this album's track-list are all safe picks, with no left-field inclusions to be found anywhere. No original Christmas jams, thank God (smart move, Jerry.) If I had to take a quiz and hand-pick songs that I'd expect a crooner like this to cover for his Christmas album, I probably would have guessed correctly about 3/4 of the songs on this track-list  (and C's get degrees, folks.)

The production, mix and arrangements are all top-notch for the era (again, guessing '50s or early '60s), which tracks because I imagine this guy was a big deal back in the day, and probably sold a butt-load of albums to the same circles that were devouring Mathis and Como's works. This gives the album a few points, putting it on par (sonically) with albums like those Great Songs of Christmas compilations - the backing music is in the same vein.

Honestly, this album is far from horrible, but Jerry doesn't give any memorable performances here. At. All. None of these songs are Holiday classics. Using Como as a comparison, we can site several of that guy's Christmas songs as Seasonal standards in media and popular culture, but Jerry - while competent enough - just comes across as 'someone else doing more of the same.' He sings just like all those other '50s and '60s crooners, the music's just about the same too (he was probably featured on several of those Great Songs of Christmas compilations, come to think of it), but it just doesn't connect. 

It might be the tone of his voice, it's too 'nice' and almost gives the impression that this dude's idea of 'cutting loose' involves a nice slice of pie instead of a bourbon, neat.

If Perry Como is Jonathan Stamos on Full House, then Jerry Vale is Bob Saget. They're both male, father figures to the same girls, sure enough, but one of them has charisma in spades (hence you being able to identify several of Como's Christmas songs on the radio), while the other is incredibly disappointed he found your cigarettes. 

Not mad, just disappointed.

VERDICT:  4/10 - Borophyll (Another collection of '50s/'60s crooner-music, Christmas-style, this time from a guy who would probably refer to you as 'sport' in conversation.)

- SHELVED -

- Brian

The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. CVII

Ladies and Gentledudes of the Internet, I present to you now the return of America's Greatest Yuletide Event:

The Great Christmas Record Odyssey.

You readers all know by now that systematically going through every, last one of my Christmas albums during the Holidays and scrutinizing the holy hell out of 'em is, without a doubt, one of my favorite Holiday traditions. This borderline weird past time of mine - a perfect storm that marries the OCD/Hough analytical side of my personality with my love of music, vinyl collecting, and the Holidays in general -  has been around since I first got into vinyl, back in 2005. Even that far back, when my collection was probably only a dozen or so LP's and compilations my Dad gave to me (or I otherwise picked up at a thrift store) and about three-dozen boxed sets I got from my Granny, I began diving deep into musty, Holiday music, cocktail in hand, and discovering all kinds of Christmas music - the good, the bad, and the ugly. Ten years later, the first year we moved back to Michigan, I began recording my analysis on this here family blog of ours, and now - seven years and over one hundred frickin' installments later - this ongoing Holiday tradition of mine runs like a well-oiled, yuletide machine.

So now, seeing how it's the first installment of this year's season of vinyl reviewin', I'll once again direct your attention to the sacred 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:  The Golden Glow of Christmas

Album Artist:  Various Artists

This one was among a stack of crappy, used vinyl that I picked up at Radio Wasteland a year or two ago (every year I go in to my local record store and drop about $20 - $25 on dollar store records to add to my To Analyze stack - I'm probably sitting on, like, fifty albums to review at this point.) I'll review them, give them a score, then drop them back off to Jim in a month or two. Usually I get some kind of a trade-in deal for 'em, so it all comes out in the wash in the end.

I kinda knew, going into this one, what I was getting myself into; probably '4' or '5' territory, based solely on the artist line-up. Probably not going to be great by any means, but also nothing overly cringe-worthy or comically bad. Just your usual quasi-boring, run-of-the-mill, 1950s/1960s Christmas compilation. God knows I've reviewed, like, forty or fifty of these sum'bitches over the last eight years.

Well, here's another one to add to that list.

Kicking things off, we have the New York Philharmonic's take on the "Hallelujah Chorus" from Handel's Messiah. Not unheard of on a holiday compilation - I've seen it multiple times before - but it's far from ideal. I wouldn't call this song Christmas 'mainstream' by any means, but rather a classical piece that's worked its way into church music over the last couple hundred years. Its appearance on holiday albums makes sense when the album in question is solely religious music (usually the case), but on a compilation that features non-religious music (such as this one) the song's inclusion is asinine. While the rendition of the song is great - no complaints here, Leonard Bernstein - it doesn't vibe well with the rest of the track list.

If you're a fan of Johnny Mathis, Doris Day, Julie Andrews, Jerry Vale, Tony Bennett or Barbara Streisand, you'd appreciate their numbers here. Nothing extraordinary or god-awful to be found on either side of this album, just the usual yuletide malaise from the same assortment of Christmas Regulars that pop up on compilations like this one. 

What would Mathis' take on 'White Christmas' sound like? It sounds exactly like you'd think it would. 

No one takes any risks with their assigned songs - they've been doing this long enough, they know how the deal works. Show up, record your song, collect your paycheck, and go home to probably scarf down a handful of amphetamines or whatever the hell all these guys were addicted to back in the 50s/60s.

'It Came Upon a Midnight Clear', courtesy of Ray Conniff & The Singers is a solid number - I'm a big fan of their Holiday album, We Wish You a Merry Christmas - and Arthur Fiedler and the Boston Pops Orchestra deliver with their well-known number 'Anderson: Sleigh Ride' (the commonly-used rendition that features the big brass sound that's one-part Christmas and two-parts College Football Marching Band at Half-Time.) 

Alas, these two numbers are the only two stand-outs in an otherwise run-of-the-mill, snoozefest of a Holiday comp that comes courtesy of the good folks over at JC Penney. 

Perhaps if those guys had been better at putting together Christmas records they'd still be in business.

VERDICT:  4/10 - Borophyll (This album is 'being dragged to JC Penney by your mom on a Sunday afternoon to buy an uncomfortable pair of khaki slacks for Christmas card pictures,' in music form.)

- SHELVED -

- Brian

The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. XIII

Okay folks, be forewarned:  this one ain't gonna be pretty. . .

Album Title:  O Come, All Ye Faithful

Album Artist:  Kate Smith

Whored-up Grandma, anyone?

This may be the worst Christmas album I've ever heard.

And that's saying a lot.

No clue where I got it from, but the only reason I still own it must be due to the fact that the album cover features a hilarious, whored-up grandma on the cover.

I don't know who Kate Smith is, but I'm pretty sure that, at the time of recording, she was in her 50s.  Judging by the cover art, I'm also assuming that she's one of those 50-somethings that still dresses like she's in her 20s or 30s.  Maybe she was hot when she was younger and didn't get the memo that she's far past her prime, I don't know.

An 'ideal album,' you say?

What I do know, America, is this:  this album is horrendous.

The sound mix is juvenile, with instruments fading in and out so fast you'd think you were listening to TIE fighters screeching past your living room.  This assault on the senses is coupled with Grandma Smith's "bell-like clarity" (whatever the blue f*** that means.) I think that's the nice way of saying she 'sings pretty,' but I'd like to think that the guy that wrote the back cover notes is Kate's grandson.

Who wouldn't want to compliment their grandma's singing, even if she did sound like she was half-comatose from gargling a chubby handful of valium?

(F.Y.I. - Kate Smith sounds like she is half-comatose from gargling a chubby handful of valium.)

Anyway, I'm not only shelving Grandma Smith, but she's being Goodwill'd at the earliest possible convenience.

VERDICT:  1/10 - Ohio  (Makes me question the existence of a supreme deity)

- SHELVED -

Album Title:  Give Me Your Love for Christmas

Album Artist:  Johnny Mathis

Dottie strikes again.

Oh, Mr. Mathis. . . what the hell am I going to do with you.

This record, evidently, comes from the collection of "Dottie". . . whoever the hell that is.  Dottie has a really, really weird taste in music.

Plus, with a name like "Dottie," you know she's a crazy old lady.  Who probably lives with fourteen cats and is obsessed with porcelain figurines.

"Give me your love.  Or else."

Anyway, this album sounds a lot like Johnny Mathis' other album I reviewed earlier - mellow crooning, backed by a '60s 'swinging' soundtrack that is both accessible and forgettable.   Honestly, I don't know how the hell this guy sold so many albums back in the day.  Sure, he can carry a tune, but the arrangements we have here are sooooo boring that its hard to sit through the two sides of the record without falling asleep.

Or killing yourself.

It seems to me that the market for this kind of music - as small as it must be - is ridiculously flooded with similarly-sounding artists, and so Johnny Mathis fails to come across as anything unique, here.  Instead, while he's belting out his Christmas carols, he instead reminds one of a mega-lame version of Tom Jones.  Tom Jones sings over similar arrangements, but at least Mr. Jones sounds more alive.

Nice vest, bro.

Plus I don't think I'd want to get in a fight with Tom Jones in a bar:  the dude looks like a caveman.

Humperdinck, Whitaker, Williams, Johnny Mathis, etc. - if it sounds like women in their 70s would be flocking to it in a casino at 3pm on a Tuesday, odds are their Christmas album is going to sound like total shit.

Mission accomplished, Mr. Mathis.

VERDICT:   3/10 - Seriously? (Another shit job from Mr. Mathis. . . but he gets points for sorta sounding like Tom Jones.)

- SHELVED -

- Brian

The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. I

Hi gang.

So, it occurred to me, as we prepare to kick off the Holiday Season, that Yours Truly hasn't shared with you before one of my all-time, favorite Holiday traditions. . .

The systematic audio-scrutinization of every, last one of my Christmas Records.

Every year, during the week of Thanksgiving, I pull out all of my Holiday records from their designated spot on my record shelving, and place them in random order right next to my turntable.  For the next five or six weeks, they are the only records I allow to grace my turntable - all of my other records have to sit in a Yuletide Time-Out until January 2nd.  I play every, last Christmas album I own - regardless of how God-awful horrible it is - appreciating the awesome (or terrible) music, LP artwork, and - more often than not - the inspirational Christmas message scrawled across the back of the record cover.

Then, if the record proves itself worthy, it remains next to the turntable to be played later on in the season (usually multiple times.)  If not, back on the shelf it goes, lucky to have been played at all.

Now, just so you know, most of my Christmas albums were either a.) inherited from grandparents, b.) picked up at thrift stores for 99 cents, or, most commonly, c.) crammed in amongst one of my many garage-sale hauls.  See, down in Florida, I would frequently score stacks of vinyl records in Hunter's Creek community garage sales.  Generally something like $10 for about fifty or sixty records or so.  Lots of John Denver, lots of Winger, lots of Charley Pride, lots of Johnny Mathis.  After chucking the scratched records, the records I didn't want, and the doubles I already owned, I'd have a solid twenty or so records to augment my ever-expanding record collection.  

Usually, I'd keep the Christmas stuff (so long as it wasn't scratched to shit), because - no matter how terrible it might be - the songs are familiar, and each LP gives the daily Holiday listening session a unique (and often hilariously bad) music experience. 

Now, I always kick off this particular tradition of mine during the Thanksgiving week, as back when I was a teacher in Florida I had a full-week off of work, and that was technically our start to the Holiday Season.  With that in mind, today - Sunday, November 22nd - marks the beginning of this year's Great Christmas Record Odyssey.

Let's do this. . .

Album Title:  Merry Christmas

Album Artist:  Johnny Mathis

Just so you know, like many of my other Holiday records, I did not walk into a record store and pick this up on purpose.  Definitely not.  Most of the songs here are standard-issue fare, belted out (likely) in a pill-induced, mellow croon guaranteed to put you to sleep.  Some may disagree with me, but to me this is music my grandparents likely made out to back in the '50s.  While wearing turtlenecks and drinking egg nog at 3pm on a Tuesday.  In fact, they probably fell asleep making out to this album, which is. . . well, weird.

Now let's take a closer look at this album cover:

Clearly, Mr. Mathis has just been skiing.  No big deal, right?  Well, he's sitting in the snow in frickin' slacks. . . which, to me, implies that he just fell on his ass.  Why else would you willingly sit down in the snow in your church pants?  And why the hell would you be smiling about it?  I was on the ski team in high school, and I never smiled after falling - it hurt like hell.  

In addition, I don't see goggles or a hat, either, which, to me, means one of two things:  1.) he's just so damn good at skiing that he doesn't need them (which makes me wonder why he's wasting his time recording Christmas albums that put grandparents to sleep), or 2.) he's so doped up on those sleepy music-inducing pills that he forget the bulk of his ski-ware at home.  Supporting this second point is the fact that, if you look closely, you'll see that he's propping himself up by his left arm. . . with his BARE HAND buried in the snow.  Probably 'cause he can't feel his extremities.

The moral of the story, kids?

Don't do drugs. 

VERDICT:  5/10 - Meh (points for ridiculously hilarious album artwork)

- SHELVED -

- Brian