The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. CXXX

What do you get when you cross a Disney Princess with an unruly Karen from the '60s? I'll show you. . .

Album Title:  Christmas Is:

Album Artist:  Pamela Wilson

So, yet again, we have ourselves here another dollar bin find from the local record store, and, as usual, I was drawn to the album cover. Pamela Wilson isn't the sort of 'artist' I'm familiar with, but on account of the album cover - which features what might be the ugliest collection of Christmas ornaments ever assembled and photographed by man - this was an inevitable purchase.

She strangled seals with her bare hands to get that coat.

Ornaments aside, the center focal point on said cover is Pam herself, all wrapped up in furs that, based on the joyless, dead look in her eyes, were probably skinned off the animals while they were still alive, trying to protect their young. Pam kinda looks like the sort of Karen who would tear into a 16-year-old, minimum-wage supermarket employee on her way home from church (because of course she's a church-going 'Christian') because she can't find diced tomatoes in a 32 oz can. 

So, musically, the arrangements here - the instrumentation and backing vocals - sound like they should be played in a 1960s department store. The levels are decent, the arrangements - if not a bit too hokey for my liking - are produced well. This is classy, elevator music that one could shop to without being offended by, say, upbeat tempos, jazzy chord progressions, or any of that sorta thing. 

But what about Karen er, Pam herself? Can she sing?

Well, that depends. Do you think Ariel from Disney's The Little Mermaid can sing? How about Snow White?

Guys, if that's your jam, you're absolutely gonna love this one.

Pam's voice sounds like she should be either frolicking with animated forest animals, or else trying to steal bloody teeth from underneath kids' pillows while they're asleep and replacing it with small bills. It's so high pitched and filled with vibrato that it's hard not to envision her floating about the studio in a sparkling, pink tutu bedazzled in glitter, waving about a wand of some kind.

A pretty reliable track listing from Pamela and the rest of the Lollipop Guild.

Everybody likes a little sugar here and there, right? Scoop of ice cream, can of pop, a cookie, whatever your weakness is? Now imagine being forced to wolf down an entire bowl of straight sugar in a single sitting. With a spoon.

That's what listening to Pam is like.

From Our House to Yours. . .

Like the other day when I was complaining about an entire album's worth of baritone singing on a Christmas record - that's right, I'm talkin' about you, Jim Nabors, you ridiculous bastard - an entire album of soprano singing is equally abrasive. Even though the track listing on this release falls well within the 'safety zone' for a Holiday release, listening to the squeaky, peppiness of Pam f***ing Wilson for two whole sides makes one's teeth ache after awhile.

For Christ's sake, I feel like I've been reviewing cartoon records this last week, what the actual f***. . . 

VERDICT:  3/10 - Seriously? (The 'ying' to Jim Nabors' 'yang,' good ol' Pam Wilson shoves her high-pitched, cartoon-y vocals down the collective throats of the masses, whether they're asking for it or not. Nobody needs this in their lives, America.)

- SHELVED-

- Brian

A Failed Date and a New Uke

Hi gangsters.

So Kris and I don't go out on 'dates' much anymore. Having kids more or less means you can't. Yeah, we could dump them off onto one of our friends, but... who wants to put up with our kids for three or four hours? That isn't fun for anyone. We only put up with our kids' crap because the government makes us.

Well, if anyone's capable of putting up with loud-mouth, obnoxioux kids, it's my Mom - she raised three of them. She offered to watch the kids Friday so that Kris and I could go out and catch dinner and a movie. So, for the first time in over a year, Kris and I were able to head out into town without towing our two disaster bombs with us.

Yet, as you're about to see, God apparently doesn't like Kris and I going out on dates any more than our kids do.

Observe:


Peril struck from the get-go. We first stopped off at a Dunkin Donuts for a couple coffees, as we had spent the entire afternoon in the sun and were pretty groggy. Alas, upon getting back into my car, it failed to start. Eventually, my mom had to drive out and rescue us - our two kids in tow. After jumping the car and taking it back to the house, we were forced to take Kris' mega van out on our 'date' instead.

Back to square one, an hour or so later than we had initially planned. Time for dinner.

We had originally wanted to check out this Banzari sushi place that we had somehow aquired a $25 gift certificate for. Not enough to cover the dinner, mind you, but it'd take a solid chunk out of our eventual bill. Well, long story short, Google Maps had us driving all over the damn place - for an hour! - in search of this mystical restaurant, and, in the end, the stupid restaurant was located inside a timeshare resort that charged $15 for parking. So, unwilling to pay this, we said 'screw it,' abandoned the endeavor entirely, and hit up another sushi joint we had frequented before.

(If this had been our very first date, I don't think I'd be seeing Kris again.)

Anyway, at this other place, which overall was pretty good, we ended up forking out a $45 bill (which is way more than we generally like to spend for a non-anniversary dinner). The sushi was good, but it wasn't that good. Nay, a decent piece of our bill stemmed from me feeling it necessary to purchase a hot bottle of sake. I wanted to try it, since I'd had cold sake numerous times but never the hot kind where they give you little shot glasses to drink out of. Well, since Kris doesn't drink, that left Yours Truly in charge of hammering away at this thing (I wasn't about to let it go to waste).

(F.Y.I. - not the best-tasting stuff, if you've never had it.)

Now, by the time we were out of the restaurant, we had missed the movie start time (of course), so instead we hit up something considerably more awesome: Guitar Center.

Now, I grew up playing the piano and the drums, but around the time I joined the Peace Corps and went off to Africa, I started getting into guitar. For a few years, I really got into this, but, over time, my interest waned (to me, its just not as fun as the drums - not even close). So I picked up the mandolin (mine is a Michael Kelly F-Style Tobacco Burst - absolutely gorgeous instrument), but this felt a bit too foreign to figure out.

The solution? The ukulele.

This is truly the instrument of the gods. I had a couple already - a small souvenir uke I picked up at a garage sale, a vintage Harmony uke I inherited from my grandpa after he passed (slightly larger than a concert, but not quite as big as a tenor), and an Oscar Schmidt OU5 Concert uke.


At Guitar Center, I picked up a Lanikai LU-21 Soprano uke, which is, according to pretty much every source you can track down and find, the best quality starter uke you can buy. Period:


I wanted a uke that I could take to the beach or camping and not worry about messing up, scratching, breaking, or getting wet. I also wanted a soprano, since my others are all in the concert/tenor range, and I wanted something with that nostalgic, plinkier, Hawaiian vintage sound. This uke has that, and I managed to get it from Guitar Center for $65.


I could've saved five or ten bucks and gotten it online, but I wanted to handle a few different instruments in person before purchasing one. This was a wise move on my part, as the first boxed-up Lanikai the guy brought me from the back was slightly messed up (there were pin-sized gaps between the fret board and the neck, which, although miniscule, could lead to a widening gap). The second one had a few cosmetic flaws, which were minor, but I wanted a nice finish on it. The third uke he brought out was perfect, and so that's the one I took home.


So, all in all, our date out wasn't a complete loss - I got a brand new uke out of the deal, one that I can take out on future family adventures. Consider that the silver lining of an otherwise chaotic night.

- Brian