Ep. CXI: 'Christmas Tyme' - Englebert Humperdink

Dear Jesus. Lock up your grandmothers, America - Diet Tom Jones is here. . .

Album Title:  Christmas Tyme

Album Artist:  Englebert Humperdink

Humperdink, your reputation proceeds you.

And by that, I mean Tom Jones' reputation.

Englebert (what kind of loveless mother even thinks of naming her little, baby boy that abomination, by the way) has made a career out of being a Tom Jones knock-off. Like, if you wanted 'Tom Jones' but felt that the price was steep on Amazon, you'd try and order Tom Jones on, say, Ali Express - the large, East Asian online market where shit takes about eight weeks to reach you, and it's always a gamble of what's actually going to show up at your door. 

Sure, it only costs about a third of the price as the legit item on Amazon, but. . . sometimes you open up the box, months after ordering your Tom Jones, and find yourself with a shrink-wrapped Englebert Humperdink instead. And the box is covered in weird scribble-scrabble symbols that don't make sense in the slightest.

And also the box smells weird. But hey, you saved yourself some money, right?

Guys, seriously. This dude's name is only the tip of the iceberg of what's wrong with this Holiday offering. Can he carry a tune? Yeah, sure. . . but so can Tom Jones, and if I wanted this type of singing, I'd just go tell my nearby Alexa device to play me some motherf***ing Tom Jones. 

Because I do not own Tom Jones on vinyl.

This guy looks like the sort of man who drugs his dates and beats his wives. The sweater, while sorta festive (if we're knit-picking - see what I did there?), it doesn't seem necessary. . . since the guy is clearly standing in front of a cheap, photo background. I think the guys in charge of the overall design of this album art should be beaten to death with the severed limbs of their children. Maybe at first glance there's not a lot to criticize, but from what we've seen on this here blog of mine over the years is far superior album packaging from much more obscure artists. 

You blew it, assholes.

I mean hell, we don't even get a 'from our house to yours' message scrawled on the back side of the outer sleeve. . . just super shitty fonts and a couple guys' names who were involved in releasing this shitshow.

Anyway, what's the music itself like?  Well, there's a lot of crooning, a lot of belting out when it's not necessary, a lot of overly-dramatic strings. . . pretty much what I figured going into this. This is '60s casino music for sexually neglected housewives, and about all it has going for it is that the poor son of a bitch whose job it was to mix this release at least knew what they were doing. Instruments and vocals are mixed well, songs fade in an out appropriately, etc. - it's clear that there was a competent adult somewhere in the production of this album.

The novelty - if we can even call it that - with this release is that Side A is a run of the mill collection of Christmas songs, which fine, whatever. Side B, however, is actually four, distinct medleys of Christmas songs. . . each with some kinda 'theme' that are cleverly (or not-so-cleverly) spelled incorrectly in order to match the title.

So is 'tyme' more old timey than 'time'? Why is this purposely spelled wrong so many times (or should I say, tymes) throughout the album? I'd think they were just trying to be vintage or something, but then again, based on the rest of this album cover's design, maybe they're just idiots and don't know how to spell. Could go either way. 

Anyway, in summary:

Does your grandma enjoy Tom Jones?  Can she not afford an authentic Tom Jones Christmas album this Holiday season?  Do casino-quality, buffet-proximity music acts and sleazy string sections get her feeling young again? Do men in their early 50s who start drinking vodka cranberries at 10am on a Wednesday get those grandma juices flowing? 

Then boy howdy, do I ever have the Christmas album for you. . . .

VERDICT:  3/10 - Seriously? (Get the f*** out of here with this nonsense, Englebert. And just so you know, I prefer Prince Humperdink from The Princess Bride over this crap. And that dude employed six-fingered men and considered Andre the Giant a reliable source of freelance labor.) 

- SHELVED-

- Brian