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. 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