The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. LXIX

Alright, alright. . . we got another thrift store find to dust off and subject to some audio scrutiny.

Album Title:  The Gifts of Christmas

Album Artist:  Various Artists

So, full disclosure here, I did not just pop this out of the sleeve and throw it on my turntable, folks.  I'm not a savage, give me some credit.  I picked this one up at the Bethesda thrift store a week or so ago (when I picked up that stack featuring a few of my previously-evaluated selections), and I gave each one of these sons-of-bitches a thorough cleaning on the ol' Spin Clean before dropping a needle onto them.  They were pretty gross.

The Wicker Man heralds the beginning of the Apocalypse.

So, this collection is from the 'Guideposts' people of Carmel, New York.  I have no idea what in the hell that means, but apparently this was a big deal and all, because this is an exclusive recording.  I mean, you can't just slap that name on any old album, can you?  God knows they paid out the ass for this top-tier art layout on the front cover (see right).  Check out the Wicker Man angel, for Christ's sake.  They only needed one picture for the front of this damn record, and that's the one they went with.

Maybe the music speaks for itself, so they didn't need to fork out a lot of dough on art direction, I don't know.  Let's see who exactly we're dealing with here:

Holy f***ing shit.

This is a Christmas no one alive still remembers.

You read that right, guys.  Percy Faith, Jim Nabors, Mitch Mitchell, Kate Smith.  That's like the Four Horseman of the Goodwill Vinyl Apocalypse.  I swear to God, if you go into a thrift store trying to find a diamond LP in the rough that is their moldy-smelling vinyl offerings, you're going to find each and every one of these assholes highly represented.  Wedged right in there among the Mantovani records, polka collections, church recordings, Mills Brothers, Lawrence Welk. . . you see where I'm goin' with this.

Well, these guys straight-up carpet bomb this album with shittiness.  I honestly can't see which one of these assholes I hate the most, they all sound like people pretending to sing.  Like, karaoke singing, if you will.  The arrangements themselves are of the Great Songs of Christmas variety, but lacking the Frank Sinatra and Julie Andrews talent that makes those compilations, while boring in their own right, at least somewhat palatable.

No, 70% of this album is pure garbage.  Like, 2/10 on the ol' Odyssey Rating Scale of mine, that's what we're dealing with here.  

But, then we have a couple rare glimpses of hope pop up from time to time.  A choir/instrumental medley on the third track of Side A isn't half-bad - if anything, it's generic background Christmas music.  Alas, when compared to the rest of the crap on this album, it shines like a frickin' star.  

Then, you have Johnny Cash with a track on here ('I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day'), and while it's not necessarily great (because, as I've said before, his Christmas songs rarely are), it's still Johnny frickin' Cash, and the man's mere presence on this record is enough to drag this sludge-fest up a point on its own.  Aside from him, there's a pretty soulful track from Mahalia Jackson (not sure if she's any relation to the dead child molester), who belts out a Southern Gospel-styled rendition of 'Go Tell It on the Mountain' that is way better than it should be, and, as such, stands out on this album like a sore thumb.

So, needless to say, consistency is definitely not this album's strong suit.  Honestly, I don't think it has one at all.  A dusting of songs on here are decent, most of the album is bottom-shelf, thrift store fare, and the arrangement styles are all over the damn place.  The only people who would possibly like this horrible, horrible collection are elderly people who shop daily at thrift stores, and who actually like artists like Percy Faith, Jim Nabors, Kate Smith, and Mitch Mitchell.

All the more reason for me to return this as soon as possible.  After all, there might be elderly women waddling about Salvation Army as we speak, looking for Christmas records to liven up the Hi-Fi's in their crotchet-covered living rooms.  And Christmas is a time for giving, America.

VERDICT:  4/10 - Boraphyll (A parade of Goodwill heavyweights let loose in all their shittiness, and not even Johnny Cash is enough to salvage this boring record from the dusty, mothball Hell from whence it came. . . and to where it'll be returning very shortly.)

- SHELVED -

- Brian

The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. XIX

So it's that time of year again, gang:  Holiday Preseason.

The Houghs, as you know, kick off Holiday Preseason the weekend before Thanksgiving.  I'll spare you the explanation for this, because honestly I feel like every year I have to go into this at some point in the Holiday season.  Long story short, by this point in time, our outdoor Christmas lights have been hung up (but not turned on)), most our holiday shopping has been taken care of (thanks, Amazon), and we're finally to the point where we're pulling out totes of our Christmas decorations in order to Griswald the holy bejesus out of our house.

Yes, by the Sunday before Thanksgiving (also known as today), everything is set up for Christmas except our Christmas Tree (which we throw up the day after Thanksgiving.)

And all that is left, dear readers, is the ritualistic audio-scrutinization of my ever-expanding collection of Christmas Records.

Last year, I shared this quasi-OCD, holiday pastime of mine with all of you, and over the course of a month we, together, took a close look at about twenty or so LPs from my Christmas collection.  Alas, we ran out of time to review everything in my collection, and since then I've also purchased about a dozen more holiday-themed records, so our task is far from over.

So, with that being said, here we f***ing go again. . .

Album Title:  The Sounds of Christmas

Album Artist:  The Three Suns

I should point out, before I get into this too far, that I've spent the last four months frequenting a thrift store conveniently located right across the street from the school I work at.  Single or double LPs sell for 59 cents, and their boxed sets sell for $1.99, regardless of how many records are in that set.

Needless to say my collection has grown substantially since the beginning of the school year.

The reason I bring this up is because many of the albums I'll be reviewing this year come from this thrift store, and are easy to spot by the '.59' price sticker on the front of the album sleeve.  Such as this one:

When the needle first dropped on this one, nothing at all seemed out of the ordinary.  Your usual mid-60s, background instrumental:  quirky organs, sound levels all over the damn place.  Everything sounding more 'churchy' than it probably should.  Nothing awesome, but nothing noteworthy either, to be sure.

Then came the instrument switch-up.  Then another.  Then another.

Now, I don't mind it when random instruments come kicking in through the front door on a track; a great example of how to do it right is on the Rolling Stones' 'Rip This Joint,' when a sax solo comes out of the frickin' blue and feels like the second coming of Jesus.

Anyone ever see Wicker Man?

This?  Not so much.

What we have here sounds a lot like three dudes on amphetamines, locked in a large room with a shitload of instruments, along with one, unfortunate sober guy who's being paid to play certain Christmas songs and keep this disaster of a Christmas album chugging along.  While Sober Guy sighs and diligently plays his piano the other three guys scramble about the room, picking up instruments, plays them for a few measures, tossing them aside, and snatching up another one.  And repeat.

A harpsichord solo followed immediately by a xylophone solo, followed by a tuba solo, followed by an accordion solo?  It's a bit much.

Even for me.

VERDICT:  4/10 - Borophyll  (Make up your mind, fellas.)

- SHELVED -