The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. XCVI

So uh, here we go again, folks.  Time for some G-Rated Holiday fun from a B-Rated 'Country' singer. . . I guess.  Let's do this.

Album Title:  Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer and Other Christmas Songs

Album Artist:  Tex Johnson and His Six-Shooters

Another Radio Wasteland Dollar Bin find this year, I had a pretty good idea I was in for some bottom-shelf Children's music, capitalizing on the '50s Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer craze.

I had never heard of 'Tex Johnson' before, but when I picked this up I assumed he was some old Country singer who had a few hits back in the 1940s and 1950s, and now he was being thrown a few bucks in order to cut an album of Children's Christmas songs.  That isn't out of the ordinary, of course - popular singers have been cashing in on the well-accepted practice of recording their own Christmas album for decades.  I mean, it is pretty fool-proof when you think about it:  you already have an established career, so you record and album where you're covering songs that are already well-known favorites that everyone already knows and loves.  It's a win-win, you're bound to make some money off it.

Turning to Wikipedia to learn more about this dude, I was once again Gene Riley'd (a term I'm going to try and use from now on when coming up with nothing on the Internet's signature Encyclopedic site) - the only 'Tex Johnson' page I came across was this guy, who was a baseball pitcher during, oh, World War I.  

Going out on a limb here and concluding that they aren't the same guy.

The history of Rudolph and. . .um. . . Johhny Marks.

The back of the album wasn't much help, either.  The entire backside of the sleeve was the backstory of the popularity of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and his creator, Johhny Marks.  No mention of the guys that actually perform on this album.  Never a good sign.

The signature song on this album is 'meh' at best.  It's not in the same ballpark as Burl Ives (who did the song better than anyone), but instead comes across as a Dollar Store, cheap Chinese knock-off of the Gene Autry rendition (Autry being the original artist, recording it back in 1949.)  Tex here tries his damnedest to imitate Autry with his performance, drawling and twanging through the number with a safe and non-offensive approach.  It comes across as a performance you'd expect to find on a Saturday morning, Children's variety show.  On the radio (because this was probably recorded before TVs were commonplace in American living rooms - I'm trying to be historically accurate here, folks.)

Had this song been the standard for the remainder of the track list, we'd have ourselves a solid '5' here, but the album goes downhill in a hurry.  Tex can carry a tune, in that hokey, 'lonesome cowboy' sorta way that appealed to millions of Americans back in the day, and the album is clearly aimed at kids - something to keep in mind, for sure - but Children's albums are dangerous things, and they're easier to screw up than you would think.  Allow me to point out some mis-steps from Tex and the gang on this one. . .  

I'm gonna say this once and I want to be very clear about this, ladies and gentlemen:  we do not need accordions in Christmas music.  This isn't a pirate shanty, it's a Christmas album.  I can't think of ever listening to a Christmas song and ever once thinking, 'Damn, you know what this song needs?  Some motherf***ing accordion accompaniment.'  And there is soooo much accordion on this Goddamn album.

There's some weird barber shop-ish a cappella stuff in here as well that also, obviously, has no business being on a kids' album. If you want to have a choir doing vocalizing sans music accompaniment, that's fine and all, but you better be performing a religious Christmas song.  Like something solemn in tone and message, something churchy in nature.  Kids certainly don't wanna hear that shit, Tex.

The upbeat country numbers on this album - 'Wait for the Wagon (on Christmas Day)' and 'Pride of the Prairie Mary', for example - are the easiest to listen to.  The target audience for songs like this are those cowboy-obsessed kids of the 1950s, like Ralphie in A Christmas Story.  Still, songs like 'Cheyenne,' which is definitely a country/western song, are overly done to the point where nowhere in the lyrics - at any given point in time - is anything remotely related to Christmas ever mentioned.  Not once. 

Santa apparently flipping off Tex for not being included.

Don't get me wrong, folks. I like old timey Country/Western music as the next guy, but c'mon, Tex - this is supposed to be a Christmas album.  Ain't nobody got time for songs about the Lonesome Trail.  How hard would it be to change up the lyrics a bit here and there.  Maybe instead of meeting a fair-eyed girl on the praire, you find - oh, I don't know - Santa Claus.  Maybe instead of leading your horse through a gully on a starlit night, you're leading a reindeer.

It practically writes itself, Tex.

The saving grace here is that this may be the shortest Holiday album I've ever reviewed - each song is, like, a minute long.  The whole offering is probably 15-20 minutes, tops.  As unbearable as it can be in spots, at least it's over fast.  Like ripping off a band-aid.

On the Lonesome Trail, of course.

VERDICT:  4/10 - Borophyll (A nobody from the 1950s cuts a Children's Christmas album, but overdoes the Country/Western thing, and inexplicably decides to double-down with an accordion and an obnoxious backing vocal group.  I decided to grace it with a few pity points for it's super-short running time, the title song, and a couple upbeat Country songs, but this sort of music has been done far better by other folks who, you know, you can actually find on the Internet.)

- SHELVED -

- Brian

The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. LXXXII

Look sharp, America - we have ourselves a genuine Holiday celebrity to deal with this evening. . . 

Album Title:  Have a Holly Jolly Christmas

Album Artist:  Burl Ives

Burl.

What kind of a parent looks down at a newborn baby and says, "Yup, 100%.  This baby looks like a Burl."  That parent must've been three sheets to the wind that day - it's a good thing Burl wasn't born with fetal alcohol syndrome.

Snow Bro.

Anyway, the poorly-monikered Mr. Ives is as recognizable around the Holiday Season as Santa Claus and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. . . more or less because all three of these guys were in the same movie together.  Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer - the stop-animation classic that came out in, like, the 1940s or something and has since become one of the most prolific Christmas movies in existence - features ol' buddy Burl as the voice of the film's narrator (a snowman who looks an Asian Wilford Brimley.)  Because of his role in the movie, and the fact that he sings a couple songs as well (which are on this album, actually), it's easy to slip right into this album and make yourself at home.

This is a really crappy graphics job. . .

The opening/title track of this album is the aforementioned one from Rudolph, and any person in Western Civilization could readily identify it.  This no-brainer of a Christmas jam has been covered many, many times, but no version I'm aware of holds a candle to the original.  It's not that Burl's necessarily a good singer (he's okay, I guess, but his voice is more novelty than talent), or that the song itself is awesome, it just oozes with nostalgia.  EVERYONE grew up with this song, so it's part of our shared Christmas experience.

If the entirety of Burl's album generated this type of emotional response, then we'd have a definitive Christmas classic on our hands (like Vince Guaraldi Trios' Charlie Brown Christmas, for example.)  Sadly, that's not the case with this particular album, because it loses its audience right away at the beginning of the second track.  

Burl, famous in the secular Christmas sphere, wanders over into the religious part of the Holiday season, singing about Jesus' birthday and what not.  To say this is jarring would be an understatement:  the churchy stuff is about as far removed from Santa, Christmas Trees, Rudolph, etc. as you can get, so when you have the guy that was literally a f***ing snowman suddenly singing about Jesus, it's like getting dosed with a bucket of ice water after stepping out of a sauna.  It's hard to separate Burl's voice singing about Jesus with the mental imagery of Wilford Brimley Snowman. . . and having a Wilford Brimley Snowman singing about Jesus would be. . . . well. . . just terrifying.

This slap on the face happens a few times on this album, but honestly that's my only gripe (even though I think it's a substantial one.)  If you like hokey 60s Christmas music, slathered up and down with Christmas nostalgia and invoking the memories of dozens of Christmases from yesteryear, then this album is for you.  Burl kills it on the children's songs ("Santa Claus is Coming to Town," the jams from Rudolph, etc.), as well as on the more secular songs - you can tell where his comfort zone is, for sure.

A folk singer by trade, Burl's unique voice - which you either like or despise - fits the song arrangements pretty well.  Not necessarily something you'd want to jam out to all the time, of course, but as was the case with quite a few albums I've reviewed in the past, this album fits a unique niche.  For those nights when you're perhaps looking through old photo albums of past Christmases by a fire, or writing out addresses on Christmas cards, or other such quiet, contemplative moments of the season, this is a sound choice.

VERDICT:  6/10 - Decent (I was going to give this a '7,' because overall it's pretty good, but aside from his upbeat, famous songs, all his other secular stuff is just decent. . . and his religious stuff is pretty weird.  I'm gonna keep this one, but can't say how often it's going to end up getting played every year.)

- SHELVED -

- Brian

The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. XXIV

Time for a double-header of straight-up Christmas classics, gang. . .

Album Title:  Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer

Album Artist:  Burl Ives and Co.

Honestly, I don't know why I'm even wasting the time to review this.  You know what this sounds like already.

I went out of my to by this album off Amazon (seriously), because I felt that it was classic that needed a spot in my Holiday music section.  I think I snagged it for $16, thereabouts.  Anyway, you already know exactly what this sounds like, because everybody in America - since the '60s - knows exactly what this sounds like.  Hell, I'm sure even the Dagombas in my old village of Sankpala can quote Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer by heart these days.

That being said, I want to focus instead on my main gripe with this album; one that pulls it's ranking down a solid two points.  What we have here are duplicate versions of the same handful of songs: Side A features vocals on all arrangements, while Side B features just the music.  Vocals on one side, instrumentals on the other.  Take that for what it is, I guess, but for $16 I think more than eight or nine songs - and their duplicates - would have been nice.

Know what I mean, Vern?

Now, I will say this:  the instrumental versions are a cool bonus. While Side A (featuring vocals) is definitely kid-centric and nostalgic, it's not necessarily something you'd want to throw in all the time.  You definitely have to be in the mood to listen to a kid's Christmas record (say, when your kids are in the living room and you want to feel nostalgic.)  Children's albums are indeed crucial to any Holiday music collection, but you need other flavors in there as well.  Some orchestral choir arrangements for the religious carols, some jazzy instrumentals (done right), some classics crooned by the masters, some genre-specific albums (honky tonk, rock and roll, oldies) etc.  Variety's the spice of life, folks.

This album's B Side, with their instrumental versions from the holiday special, are a welcome change from the vocals, and will undoubtedly increase the frequency of this album's playing throughout the Holiday season.  I just wish this was a two-disc album, with one LP being vocals and one LP being instrumentals.

Oh well.

VERDICT:  8/10 - Awesome (A children's classic, chock-full of nostalgia, that lose a couple points from lack of songs)

- REMAINS IN CIRCULATION -

Album Title:   Christmas with the Chipmunks

Album Artist:  The Chipmunks (feat. David SeVille)

  

Like Burl Ives' 'Holly Jolly Christmas' or Jimmy Durante's 'Frosty the Snowman,'  the Chipmunks' 'Christmas Song (Christmas Don't Be Late)' is so well-known it has become a household staple across varying cultures and backgrounds.  Whether or not that's a particularly good thing, I'll leave it up to you to judge.  

Where the hell are the Chipmunks' real parents?  Did they die?

I mean, let's be honest, here:  singing chipmunks aren't for everyone.


I found this album for 99 cents at a thrift store somewhere downstate over the summer, and picked it up for the same reason I picked up the Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer soundtrack, Disney's Christmas All-Time Favorites, and Vince Guaraldi Trio's A Charlie Brown Christmas album:  its yuletide nostalgia, and reminds me of all the awesome Christmases from my youth.

Does that necessarily mean that this album still holds up for a dude pushing his late 30s?  

Meh.  

I mean, upon throwing this on the turntable and giving it a listen, some of the back-and-forth banter is amusing, but after awhile the adult in you can't help but start analyzing the vocals on this particular album.  

For a truly terrifying experience, crank this baby up to 45 RPM. . .

The magic of 'holy shit, there are actual singing chipmunks on this Christmas record' that my two young daughters experienced when I put this on the turntable this evening has long since faded away.  Instead, Adult Brian starts thinking about three weird-looking guys, standing around in some '60s-era recording booth, singing these ridiculous vocal tracks that would eventually be sped up to a ridiculous speed in order to get that signature 'chipmunk' sound.

I'm not gonna lie, guys:  it's a bit weird.  

The second you peek behind the curtain of The Chipmunks, they instantly lose all credibility and, consequently, listening to this album becomes a trial in patience.  You do nothing but wonder what these three singers sounded like in real life, what kind of a paycheck they got for singing these songs fifty-odd years ago, and how fast the tapes were sped up in order to get this 'chipmunk' sound.  

They got this on 8-Track?  Why don't I own this?!

Yes, while my two girls dance around the living room to these festive little rodents, Yours Truly just frowns at the back liner notes of this album, tearing up a little as the veil of Childhood Innocence falls away from his eyes.

Thanks a lot, Alvin.

Alvin?


ALVIN!!!

VERDICT:  6/10 - Decent  (A nostalgic Holiday album that sadly doesn't hold up as well as some of its brothers, but - despite its low score - will remain in circulation this season 'cause my kids love it.)

- REMAINS IN CIRCULATION -

A Feast Best Served Cursed

Detroit prepares to lose.  Again.

Happy Turkey Day, people.

I hope everyone out there thoroughly enjoys this special day of giving thanks, watching the Lions, gorging themselves blind, and, more likely than not, engaging in fisticuffs with complete strangers over $50-off tablets at a Wal-Mart.

'Tis the season.

Here at the Houghs, our original plans - to celebrate Thanksgiving at the Voigts' house, as we have the last four years in a row - were kibosh'd when Abby fell sick a few days ago.  This would mark the second year in a row that a Hough began projectile-vomiting around Thanksgiving (as you'll be so good to remember), and reaffirmed our suspicion that, indeed, there exists a dreadful Hough Family Thanksgiving Curse. 

Oddly enough, Abby actually felt fine the morning of Thanksgiving, when we dropped Mom and John off at the airport - it was Alayna that came out of left field and started running a high fever.  The night before, she had complained of headaches, and had voluntarily gone to bed early - something that never happens.  Sure enough, this morning she woke up hot, and - after returning from dropping Mom and John off at the airport - napped until nearly noon.  

And so, not wanting to spread sickness among the Voigt household and their party guests like the Bubonic Plague, we opted to sit this year out, circle the wagons, and have our own very own, private Thankgiving.

We found Vernors down here!

This had been the first time we've celebrated Turkey Day by ourselves since 2007, and likewise we wanted to make sure we didn't go bat-shit crazy with the feasting.  Kris picked up a chicken from Publix in place of a traditional turkey, seeing how there were only two people who would most likely eat the bird (our kids are weird).  She also bought a few boxes of Thanksgiving staples while she was at it - Stove Top, mashed potatoes, a cherry pie, a loaf of gourmet bread, etc. 

After the girls were put down for their naps, Kris and I decided to throw up the Christmas Tree.  For whatever reason, this was way more difficult than it had been any other year.  Not sure why, exactly, but it took over an hour for the two of us to figure out how the damn thing fit together and plugged in.  

While we were on-again/off-again wrestling with our yuletide centerpiece, I was able to throw back a few beers and watch the Lions lose - something that NEVER happens down here in Florida - and Kris was able to kick-start our Thanksgiving mini-feast. . . 

Observe:

It wouldn't be Thanksgiving without watching the home team getting their asses beat.

Once the kids got up from their naps, unfortunately, Detroit vs. Houston magically transformed into Beauty and the Beast.  Surprise surprise.

Kris douches up the chicken. . .

After awhile of Beauty and the Beast'ing, the kids began to get bored, so I let them ride their ridables around in the newly-cleaned/organized garage (one of my 'To-Do' objectives during my week off of work). . .

 

Lemon Chicken, prepared with fresh lemons cut from our own backyard. . . (if you need some lemons, let us know - we're sitting on a truckload over here. . .)

 

Kris' spread.

We opted to have Thanksgiving out on our patio, since it was 73 degrees out and all.  Plus we have crap-loads of Christmas lights hung up, so it's festive as hell.  Can't argue with that.

Bring on the wine.

 

Not surprisingly, despite Kris' hours of slaving away over our Feast of Thanks, after a mere two minutes or so of 'I don't like this,' and 'that looks yucky,' the girls were officially fun-ed out with Thanksgiving, and retired to their easel to work on what I can only assume was an awe-inspiring collaborative masterpiece. . . (*pfft)

After dinner, Alayna lied down on the couch in front of the TV - being sick as she was, it wasn't too surprising that she didn't want to eat much.  Abby, on the other hand. . .

After an hour passed, Abby complained of being hungry, so Kris warmed up some random chicken-and-pasta dish she got from Sunchild.  I'm not sure what's in this recipe, but whatever it is, both girls generally take to it like a hobo to a crack pipe. . .

Abby reaches the bottom of her bowl.  Unbridled hell-fury ensues. . .

Before I continue with the pictures, I'd like to mention two Christmas movies I was forced to watch throughout the course of the evening.  Both are straight from the Rankin/Bass playbook, having been produced in the wake of Rudolph and the Red-Nosed Reindeer back in the '60s/'70s.

The first movie the girls chose to watch today (the official Hough start date for the Christmas 2012 season) was the accursed The Year Without Santa Clause.  I'll let you do your own research on this cinematic clusterf***. . . I wouldn't know where to begin summarizing this movie.  It's like the Rankin/Bass people went off into the wild for a month, sustaining themselves on nothing but peyote and their own over-inflated, humongo-egos. 

More or less, from what I can gather is that Santa wakes up one  morning, having a pity party, and Mrs. Clause, suffering from delusions of grandeur, recruits a couple of mentally handicapped elves from the factory floor to hijack Santa's reindeer and start an inter-climatory war between a pair of siblings whose utter disdain for one another rival the Gallagher brothers.

If that ridiculousness wasn't enough, my two tax deductions follow this horrifying hour-long waste of human effort by watching Rudolph's Shiny New Year.  I wasn't in the room for the majority of this movie, fortunately - I was still out in the garage, trying to wedge a flat-head screwdriver into my eye-sockets after watching the previous movie - so I'm not 100% clear on this movie's plot line, either.

Not that it needed one.

What I can piece together is that Rudolph, fresh off his victory over the Fog dilemma from his more well-known (and more stomachable) movie, is hunting down this human/elephant hybrid orphan who is bouncing out of control along the time/space continuum.  I'm not sure why.  Something about stopping a bad guy, I don't know.  Anyway, Rudolph somehow manages to discover the secret to time travel, and - in his infinite, quadrupedal wisdom - deems it beneficial for his cause to recruit a homo sapien neanderthalis specimen, an 84-year-old Don Quixote, and - I'm being completely serious, here - Benhamin f***in' Franklin.

Not sure how it ended, and frankly I don't care. 

After the kids passed out for the evening - which, at 7:30/8pm, didn't come nearly as soon enough as I would've liked - Kris and I threw in our favorite, get-ready-for-the-season movie, Some Like It Hot.  This has become a yearly tradition for us, though for the life of us we're not sure how it started.  Every year we decorate our Christmas tree to this movie, and I'm pretty sure I can say, with a modest degree of certainty, that we're the only couple in the continental United States to do this. . .

Christmas Cocktails: CHECK.  1 1/2 oz. Creme de Cocoa, 1 oz. Peppermint Schnapps, 1 oz. cream. Garnish with candy cane, get your own yule on appropriately.

(this isn't a dress)

We never put all the ornaments up - we save all the cheap, 'kid-proof' ornaments for the kids to throw up.  Not that we value their taste in ornament distribution, per se - they have a nasty tendency of clustering all their ornaments together in a way that would make many an art major off themselves with a shotgun. . .

**Updated Fri. 11/23 @ 9:32am. . .**

When the girls woke up in the morning, we set out the remaining Christmas Ornaments (the who-gives-a-shit-if-it-breaks ornaments) for the girls to hang on the tree. . .

(. . .needless to say, both girls were pretty stoked up about having a fully-decorated, 7 1/2 ft Christmas tree in their living room when they woke up.)

This is what our Instant Queue on Netflix looks like these days.  Could be a LOT worse.)

Abby managed to mangle a few jingle bells in the process, but she was able to do hang up a Christmas ornament or two this year.

- Brian