The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. CXXIII

Greetings from the far reaches of the Holiday soundscape - from its dark, mildew-y corners, I bring you this Aryan relic. . .

Album Title:  White Christmas

Album Artist:  John Schneider

This dollar-bin find from Radio Wasteland was a no-brainer for Yours Truly, gang. I mean just look at this guy: one can't help but be immediately drawn to the blonde locks and overly-friendly countenance of what very well may be the whitest man of all time. Cozily wrapped up in a festive sweater so ugly Bill Cosby wouldn't touch that shit. 

I have no idea who John Schneider is, but based on the photos of homeboy on the outer sleeve, he's either a.) a Mormon missionary, b.) a Christian singer, or c.) a German pop star.

(If we're going with 'c' on this one, the title White Christmas takes on a notable, Third Reich sorta vibe.)

There's not a lot of information to gleam from these two photographs, and not much in the text to to give this guy much of a backstory (no 'From Our House to Yours' cheesiness to read through, no message from the producer). I could probably look up who this guy is on Wikipedia or whatever, buuuut I don't feel like opening up another tab right now.

Whoever he is, the production value on this album is pretty good. Like there's a legit band here, not some random asshole playing one of those keyboards where you can hit a button and suddenly F# sounds like a maraca. The arrangements are mixed well, too - it doesn't sound like someone's cousin recorded this with home equipment in a local church on a Thursday evening (because we get LOTS of that around here, it seems) - but holy shit, are they boring.

Schneider totally sounds like, say, an animated Prince Charming. All pure and innocent, with a hint of whimsy and a dash of heroic bravado (not that Prince Charmings ride into battle at the head of great host or anything, they're usually just gallivanting through a forest in tights - not sure why they even bother strapping on a sword.)  Listening to him sing, the guy's over-annunciation gives the impression that he's the sorta guy that doesn't know how to use contractions when speaking. No highs or lows in the vocals, no swagger or gun powder in the delivery, no over-the-top brashness like you often times get with those church-y Christmas singers. No conviction at all, really - just a guy singing words off a lyric sheet in a studio and collecting a paycheck. 

This is how a guy laying down tracks for a Disney character would do it - Schneider's probably moonlighting providing vocals for the love interest on Cinderella's Christmas Album.

He's not a terrible singer, I guess, but he's far from what I'd call 'pro' level. You know when you go out to a bar and when you walk in you notice there's people singing karaoke? And eventually a bunch of drunks drag one of their reluctant friends up on stage and, after a few moments of obligatory 'modest protesting,' the friends starts singing, and he's like surprisingly good?  You're like, 'Oh damn, this dude can actually sing.'  Know what I'm talking about?

Well, that's based on the civilian scale of singing ability, folks - like when you see an actress on TV and are all like, 'She's not that hot,' but you know if you passed her on the sidewalk you'd most likely have a heart attack and shit your pants. 

. . . .

We all do it, it's cool. It's not weird.

VERDICT:  4/10 - Borophyll (Prince Charming cuts a Christmas album and can't figure out why his true love would choose to remain asleep instead of being conscious for this snooze-fest.)

- SHELVED-

- Brian

The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. III

Alright, here we go again. . .

Album Title:  Christmas with

Album Artist:  Chet Atkins

Mr. Chet Atkins, ladies and gentlemen.  Gotta tell ya, I was looking forward to this one.  I love old country and rock and roll, and this dude walks among some of that era's greatest.

*hiccup*

 Unfortunately, his Christmas album sucks.

Weird how that works, isn't it?  You take an artist whom you like, a collection of renowned Holiday favorites, and whip up an album that. . . well. . . makes you want to blow your brains out.  Super disappointing.

Chet Atkins is at his best when he's boogying with that hollow-body of his, but on this album his guitar-work does this bizarre, drunken tip-toe thing through the Christmas standards.  It's like him and the guitar went out for a night on the town, and the guitar - who had recently broken up with his girlfriend - got all loaded and ended up going home with a blown out tube amp.  Who was really a stripper.  Addicted to Meth.  The next morning, back in the Studio, the guitar trembled uncomfortably as it tried to record even the simplest of holiday carols, in a cold sweat, trying not to vomit all over the sheet music.

Way to ruin Christmas, guitar.

I'd rate this a 3, but it gets an additional point on the scale for the campy 'from our house to yours'-ish message about Chet Atkins and the Holidays.  Check it out:

Aww. . . thanks, People That Never Met Me.  And are probably all dead by now.

To top it off, the jacket's falling apart.  Thanks, Chet.

VERDICT:  4/10 - Borophyll 

- SHELVED -

- Brian

The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. II

Alright, I've got another record today for ya - Remembering Christmas with the Big Bands (RCA, 1981.)  Johnny Mathis is no longer with us, having been 'shelved' in the last Episode, and now sits alongside my non-Christmas albums for the remainder of the Holiday Season.  In shame.

Without further ado, here we go. . .

Album Title:  Remembering Christmas with the Big Bands

Album Artist:  Various Artists

Alright all you zoot suit daddies, let's pretend it's the Summer of 1998 and get some swingin' Yule goin' on in here. . .

Thanks, Granny.

No idea where this one came from, but if I had to put money on it, I'd probably wager it came from my Dad's mom, Granny Hough.  My reasoning for this?  A solitary '1981,' scrawled in her trademark calligraphy, right on the front cover of the outer record sleeve.

Only a Hough, with their infamous OCD, would deem it necessary to scrawl the date of an album right across the front cover (despite the fact that the date can easily be found on the back cover, along with the usual record company copyright information.)

Anyway.

This one isn't bad - good sound quality for the record itself, the outer sleeve is in VG condition (not that I have an audiophile's super-anal rating scale to heart or anything.)  This album is exactly what you would come to expect from a compilation of Big Bands doing an assortment of Christmas standards.  Hopping horn sections, snappy rhythm sections - not too bad at all. When vocalists come on - as they do with Big Band numbers, about a minute or so into the song - they're recorded way too loud, as it usually the case with most Big Band recordings.

I have really nothing to complain about - Glenn Miller, Sammy Kaye, Fats Waller. . . what's not to like?  Well, as a Christmas album, it's a little too much on the 'jazz' side for my tastes.  If I'm in the mood for swinging band jazz, these are the guys I look for, no doubt about it.  They're the best in the business.  That being said, I think as a Christmas album the melodies of familiar Holiday tunes gets drowned out in that Big Band swing.  The variations on these tunes don't stay as centric to the normal arrangements, which forces you to sometimes work at finding out what, exactly, you're listening to.

And I hate work, America.

VERDICT:  6/10 - Decent (good jazz. . . just maybe not for Christmas.)

- SHELVED -

- Brian

Snazzercisin'

what's up, players.

we're about three weeks into the summer, folks. three weeks have gone by and i've managed to accomplish little of what i had initially set out to do. the lesson planning for the upcoming 2009 - 2010 school year? yeah, not so much. the writing? a little, but not nearly as much as i'd prefer. the mundane side-projects - cleaning up my iTunes libraries, working on iMovies and slideshows for family, cataloging and organizing my vinyl record collection (i know, shut up) - here and there.

the problem in my inefficiency so far this summer stems from one, blatantly obvious source: my daughter.

chasing after this one year old time bomb takes up practically every, single, waking moment of my daily routine, and my consequent inability to get anything done, day in and day out, is driving me insane. nothing gets done with a kid in the house. feeding, changing, bathing, playing... and i though the wife was high maintenance.

on a plus side, folks, i have managed to somewhat land myself into a pseudo workout routine of sorts. for about 30 minutes a day, a few days a week, i bust my ass on the Nintendo Wii Fit, which, for those of you who can generally be found living under a rock on most days, is a videogame that utilizes a sensor-based board so that the user can exercise whilst playing videogames.

i know it sounds stupid, folks, but it works. at least it does for this guy, at any rate.

i should probably be doing it everyday - despite all of this exercisin', i think the remainder of the day where i'm loafing around my apartment playing super-dad is canceling out all my hard work - but, for the time being, i'm holding onto that almighty clothing standard of dudehood: medium sized shirt/32" waistline. that's my 38th parallel, and i'm going to hold that line as long as i can.

speaking of which, its time to get off my ass and start this evening's sweatfest.

cheers,

- brian