The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. CXVII

Welcome back, folks. Settle in and grab yourself a Holiday cocktail (and maybe a set of earplugs) for this one . . .

Album Title:  Christmas Hymns and Carols

Album Artist:  Mario Lanza

Another treasure snatched up from Radio Wasteland's Dollar Bin, I picked this up early this year on account of the guy on the cover. Mario Lanza, whom I've never heard of before, looks like the sorta guy that either a.) sells used cars, b.) owns a restaurant in which a bunch of shady mobsters meet regularly in the back room, or c.) records super shitty Christmas albums in a way-too-loud, Italian opera sorta way. Or some combination of these, you never know.

You know those scenes in National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation where Clark Griswold starts to sing, and he's so clearly caught up in the spirit of the Holidays that he belts out whatever he's singing in an operatic tone? And it's clearly meant to be funny (because who in their right mind would legitimately sing like that for real)? 

Well, that's how Mario sings. All the time.

Doesn't matter if it's during a soft, quiet song, doesn't matter if the subject matter doesn't require such a boisterous voice, Mario doesn't give a shit. This dude's dialed up to an '11' at all times and that's what he's going to give you on his Holiday album, Goddamn it. It's not that the guy can't sing - he's an opera singer, he can sing well - it's just that he stomps his foot down on the vocal gas pedal and doesn't let up throughout the entirety of both sides of this record. 

It's exhausting.

This album is mixed well, and the background music (if you can hear it behind Mario's insanely brash voice) is basic but suffices for what it is, I guess. This guy was clearly a star back in the day, and they gave his Holiday album the star treatment for sure - production value is decent enough. I can't just for the life of me can't imagine what the intended target audience was for something like this. 

Nearly all of the songs on here are religious in nature, but there's no way the old, church-going crowd is going to want to listen to this - it's too loud, too intense, and too Italian opera in nature. Church ladies won't find that blasphemous I'm sure. 

The young, hip crowd? No way in hell, they're not going to put up with this guy. Not when Rock and Roll is starting to hit the radio, with all that 'black music' that their parents can't stand. 

I can only assume it's marketed towards half-drunk, Italian housewives, shuffling about their New Jersey houses, decorating for the Holiday Season with a vodka tonic in hand, chain-smoking cigarettes and blasting this album at full volume.

Christ, you can practically smell the Aqua Net and cheap perfume.

VERDICT:  3/10 - Seriously? (All Opera, All The Time does NOT work on a Holiday Album, Mr. Lanza. I need to go lie down for bit. . .)

- 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