Ep. CXLV: 'Christmas Greetings From' - Jerry Vale

Hey sport, you mind if I sit down next to you on this here couch and sing a couple'a Christmas songs for ya? 

Album Title:  Christmas Greetings From

Album Artist:  Jerry Vale

We can thank Radio Wasteland's Dollar Bin for this score, and I picked it up because while the name rung some bells, I didn't know anything about this guy. Based on the album sleeve, I anticipated some sort of Johnny Mathis-ish crooner from the '50s or '60s, so that right there would give one a rough idea of what you're about to immerse yourself in. Nevertheless, I'm a sucker for Christmas albums comprised of only one artist, because unlike compilations or the like, you can get a better idea of of their range over the span of several songs. So Jerry has a dozen or so songs to convince me he can deliver on a Christmas album.

Going into this album, I should reiterate that I didn't know anything about Jerry Vale at all. Upon dropping the needle on Side A, he's definitely a crooner in the same vein as Mathis, or Perry Como, etc. Unlike those two, however, Jerry sounds like a sitcom dad singing. Like, the dude's voice just sounds like it's wrapped in a sweater vest and khakis, and isn't above having a heartfelt conversation with you on a floral couch after finding a pack of cigarettes in your sock drawer.

The song choices found in this album's track-list are all safe picks, with no left-field inclusions to be found anywhere. No original Christmas jams, thank God (smart move, Jerry.) If I had to take a quiz and hand-pick songs that I'd expect a crooner like this to cover for his Christmas album, I probably would have guessed correctly about 3/4 of the songs on this track-list  (and C's get degrees, folks.)

The production, mix and arrangements are all top-notch for the era (again, guessing '50s or early '60s), which tracks because I imagine this guy was a big deal back in the day, and probably sold a butt-load of albums to the same circles that were devouring Mathis and Como's works. This gives the album a few points, putting it on par (sonically) with albums like those Great Songs of Christmas compilations - the backing music is in the same vein.

Honestly, this album is far from horrible, but Jerry doesn't give any memorable performances here. At. All. None of these songs are Holiday classics. Using Como as a comparison, we can site several of that guy's Christmas songs as Seasonal standards in media and popular culture, but Jerry - while competent enough - just comes across as 'someone else doing more of the same.' He sings just like all those other '50s and '60s crooners, the music's just about the same too (he was probably featured on several of those Great Songs of Christmas compilations, come to think of it), but it just doesn't connect. 

It might be the tone of his voice, it's too 'nice' and almost gives the impression that this dude's idea of 'cutting loose' involves a nice slice of pie instead of a bourbon, neat.

If Perry Como is Jonathan Stamos on Full House, then Jerry Vale is Bob Saget. They're both male, father figures to the same girls, sure enough, but one of them has charisma in spades (hence you being able to identify several of Como's Christmas songs on the radio), while the other is incredibly disappointed he found your cigarettes. 

Not mad, just disappointed.

VERDICT:  4/10 - Borophyll (Another collection of '50s/'60s crooner-music, Christmas-style, this time from a guy who would probably refer to you as 'sport' in conversation.)

- SHELVED -

- Brian

Ep. CXLIV: 'Songs for the Holidays' - The London Symphony Orchestra, with Peter Hoffman and Deborah Sasson'

Happy Snow Day, America (well, at least Central Michigan - we got dumped on today). . . 

Album Title:  Songs for the Holidays

Album Artist:  The London Symphony Orchestra, with Peter Hoffman and Deborah Sasson

Another dollar album picked up at Radio Wasteland, this one didn't feature any absurd album artwork to make fun of. No promise of 'Bells and Chimes,' or a tacky, borderline-creepy 'Children's Christmas Album,' or a steaming turd offered up by the likes of Roger Whitaker, Kate Smith, or Mantovani. Nope, this one had a super boring album cover, which didn't appeal to me in the slightest - I grabbed it because I haven't listened to it and hell, that's what we're all here for.

The opening track on this album was like two firm slaps across the face, back-to-back. First came a well-mixed, orchestral version of 'Sleigh Ride,' like a really good orchestral version of this. Stunned, I grabbed the album sleeve and looked at the liner notes, and - lo and behold - we have THE London Symphony Orchestra. Yes, that orchestra - one of the best in the world. Responsible for Star Wars and a slew of other classic recordings. How the hell did they pull this orchestra for this random album?

Well, the second part of Side A Track 1 is 'Silver Bells,' and the orchestra switches to 'background music mode' to focus on the 'vocal prowess' of Tennessee Ernie Ford-in-training 'tenor' (tenor is a stretch, he's much lower than any tenor I've heard) Peter Hoffman and his side piece, 'soprano' Deborah Sasson. The lady warbles along as many sub-par sopranos do, but the dude is trying so hard to be dramatic that it's hard to listen to this without pissing yourself laughing. 

I'm dumbfounded who arranged these songs. If you have the London Symphony Orchestra on your payroll, why would you hamstring them into tearing up the joint one minute, only to have them backseat to play second fiddle (literally) to two B-listers? That's like booking the Rolling Stones for a private event and having them do song requests from a group of six-year-old special needs kids.

Could Keith Richards improvise a bad-ass guitar riff for 'Baby Shark'? Almost certainly, but who the hell wants to hear that?

The following songs get similar treatment. The orchestra swells and introduces each track, which are all divided into multi-song medleys, then the vocalists take over for the second half. There's a backing chorus here as well (and they match nicely with the orchestra), but alas they're not much help. Nothing can distract the listener from the over-the-top singing from the lead duo on this album (though their ca. 1987 matching, permed mullets on the album's back cover just about do the trick.)

As the album progresses, Pete's operatic bellowing and Deb's accompanying over-use of vibrato gets exhausting. Not every Christmas song needs to make the rafters shake, guys - that gets tedious real fast. 'O Holy Night' might as well have been written by Italian composer Rossini, (think 'Marriage of Figgaro') it's that over-the-top. Listening to this I'm convinced that this Peter Hoffman guy has a giant, oil painting of himself hanging in his living room above a fireplace. With like him shirtless and looking like Fabio, with a white tiger lying at his feet.

Eat your heart out, ladies. He's clearly a big deal.

Hallmark promises 'festive music fare to brighten your home for the holidays,' and you can tell they had the budget on this album to deliver said promise, but squandered it with focusing on these asinine, leading vocals. Had they just kept the chorus singing along with The London Symphony Orchestra, this had the promise of being a solid '6' or even a '7' (yes, the musical arrangements here are that good, sounding almost like the score from The Muppet Christmas Carol.) The backing chorus/choir/whatever sounds decent, too. Hell, even swap out Pete and Debbie for a couple A-list singers with some frickin' name recognition. God knows if you can afford hiring the L.S.O. as your backing band, you could probably make something work there.

But no. Hallmark, doubles down on two nobodies who, sure, know how to sing, but also don't know how to sing.

Also, based on the photograph of these two on the backside of the album cover, I'm 100% convinced these two are bumping uglies. I'd stake my life on it.

VERDICT:  4/10 - Borophyll (A tiring, Holiday affair that had the makings of a half-way decent, orchestral Christmas recording, but tripped and fell flat on its face right out of the gate. Nobody puts the London Symphony Orchestra in the corner.)

- SHELVED -

- Brian

Ep. CXLIII: 'Cas Radosti' - The Slovak Heritage Society Festival Choir and Ensemble

Hey, gang - we got any Slovaks (Slovish?) in the house tonight? 

Album Title:  Cas Radosti

Album Artist:  The Slovak Heritage Society Festival Choir and Ensemble

This one couldn't have been passed up. A Slovak Christmas album? I'm pretty sure that's the one that's the John Oates to Czech Republic's Daryl Hall, right? Central/Eastern Europe-ish? Somewhere in there?

Well, for a buck who cares, I was gonna give it a go.

The album cover is pretty lame. Someone hired a 10th grade art student to grab their finest assortment of Crayola markers (the skinny ones, not the fat ones) and draw a picture of a bunch of Slovaks trying to set the inside of a barn on fire. There's some wet laundry hanging on a line, multiple discarded buckets and pots, and inexplicably some special needs boy with a ca. 2011 Justin Bieber haircut, balancing on a wooden beam.

Not entirely sure what's going on here, but I think whoever drew this needs to pursue other avenues of employment.

The back side of the album jacket is much better, however - we actually get some information about this cryptic recording. As it turns out, 'Cas Radosti' translates to 'A Time of Joy.' Makes sense, it's Christmas. Further, this album was recorded in 1983 in Barre, Pennsylvania by The Slovak Heritage Society Festival Choir and Ensemble. . . which, if I'm reading this correctly, is like some kind of parish choir that performs in this predominantly Slovak community in. . . Pennsylvania. 

The Ladies Pennsylvania Slovak Catholic Union (yes, they must have enough Slovaks, Catholics, and Catholic Slovaks in Pennsylvania to necessitate the creation of a Slovak Catholic Union) were nice enough to produce this recording for everyone in their diocese. . . or parish, or whatever you call that, how the Catholics divide up their church territory. It kinda sounds like Pennsylvania has a kind of Dearborn, Michigan thing going on, except down in Dearborn they're mostly Chaldean, not Slovak-ish.

Anyway, Side A opens up with bellowing, Communist fanfare - lots of brass and Slovaks (and Slovakettes) singing with gusto. You can practically see the olive drab-sporting civilians saluting the Slovak soldiers as they goose-step by on their way to lighting the People's Republic Tree of Christmas. This opening track isn't long, and up next the mood does a complete 180: the next number is more or less a handful of guys standing up at the front of a church, reading some kinda congregational Call to Worship (they speak in Slovaki first, then switch to English so us normies can understand what's going on.) Then the congregation responds, and soon the whole place breaks out in song (to be continued for several tracks, which, honestly, all basically sound the same - God knows what they're singing about, I didn't read the entirety of the liner notes.)

I think this might be a live recording, actually: quality here is decent for a cathedral recording, because based on the depth of the vocal audio (the echo, the reverb) you can tell they had the mics set up far back from the choir, and the acoustics of the cathedral amplify the choir's volume. At first I thought the congregation itself might be singing the songs, but they stop just proficiently enough to allow soloists or an instrument take center stage, and there's no way in hell hundreds of people would be able to do that.

The accompanying musicians vary considerably, and for the most part they fade into the background and let the singers take center stage (which is the right move for an album like this which is clearly attempting to showcase Slovak singers doing Christmas shit their native tongues.) They even have frickin' bagpipes on here, and that blows my mind because I didn't realize the Slovaks had bagpipes, I thought that was limited to the British Isles. Sadly, the bagpipes here don't have the clout and majesty of their Irish and Scottish cousins, and instead like a gaggle of half-starved cats being slowly skinned alive over a trash barrel fire by a couple of homeless Slovaks.

I could keep going with this album, but I don't think I need to: this is a live recording of a Slovak choir singing. . . Christmas songs?. . . in a large church of some kind. In Bumblef***, Pennsylvania. Can they sing? Yup. Are the arrangements good? Yup. How about the mix and recording quality? Good, sure.

So is this a decent record?

Not unless your Slovak. If you are, I bet this album hits HARD. For the rest of us, this is a competently done album with decent church music, but it's still a religious choir album. I appreciate cultural diversity as much as anybody, but I feel like this album would have been better had it worked some traditional Slovak tunes and instruments into the music (why do they have bagpipes?) As it stands, this sounds like a giant cathedral choir recording a church service.

. . . just, you know, in Slovakish.

VERDICT:  5/10 - Meh  (It's like going to church in Eastern Europe. It might look super cool inside the centuries-old cathedral, but, at the end of the day, you're still stuck in a boring church service.)

- SHELVED -

- Brian

Ep. CXLII : 'All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth' - Santa's Helpers

Bring forth your children, America. Bring forth your children and let them partake in this Holiday musical offering . . 

Album Title:  All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth & Festive Favorites for Children

Album Artist:  Santa's Helpers

This kid on this album cover scares the living shit out of me.

Why would the label execs pull the trigger on having some cross-eyed kid with messed up teeth grace the cover of their Christmas album? Were they trying to be whimsical or something? Don't they know how weird this kid looks? There is nothing whimsical about a child who can only see his nose and can't afford braces, folks. This time of year is for festivity and merriment, not revulsion and horror; this child needs to be put back into his cage in the basement and washed down with a garden hose.

Anyway, this was another Dollar Bin score from Radio Wasteland, and one look at that little urchin on the album cover should tell you why I picked this up in the first place. Children's albums are almost always disasters, unless a.) they have a larger budget and a solid production team, b.) the track list is age-appropriate, fitting for the Holidays, and arranged halfway decent, and c.) the 'talent' on the album is used appropriately. Seeing the album cover in the record store a few years ago, I had little expectations that Santa's Helpers (the artists who put out this album, probably not affiliated with Santa at all - frickin' posers) were up to the task.

Side A opens with the title song, and it's got more accordion than a Goddamn polka festival, cranked up to '11', with only a walking stand-up bass for company. The ridiculous instrumentation is actually the best thing about this one, though, because the singing is f***ing terrifying. It sounds like an adult recorded this album in a broom closet while doing their very best to impersonate a small child singing. The trademark fake lisp associated with this song isn't cute or funny in this version, because you know it's an ADULT and not a child singing.

A rip-off of Dave Seville's Chipmunks follows, with much of Side A compromising a slew of Holiday songs sung in that obnoxious, high-pitched Chipmunk singing. However it is beyond obvious that these aren't the real Chipmunks, folks - these are cheesy knock-offs. The creepy dude who was acting like a child with a speech impediment in the last track stumbled from his hiding spot in the broom closet and has his vocals sped up to 45 rpm (or 78 rpm, whichever one they use for that 'Chipmunk' singing.) He's accompanied by some random dude who sounds like he's been drinking since 9am, because, you know, he's going through some serious shit at home and doesn't want to talk about it.

The first installment in this Go-Bots Chipmunk nonsense is 'Jingle Bells,' which is meh - these two weirdos don't make good Chipmunks at all - followed by 'Deck the Halls.' Between every song on this album, a mysterious entity with a booming, low voice starts to talk to the 'Chipmunks,' but the mix is so bad on this frickin' album that you can barely understand what he's saying. This malevolent force sounds like Durin's Bane crawling out of the depths under Khazad-dum, and is by no means anything you'd remotely want on a children's Christmas album. Jesus H. Christ.

 

As bad as that sounds, it gets worse. At least the previous two songs are secular Holiday selections. The next two numbers introduced (I'm guessing introduced, I can't understand the black speech of whatever the hell this thing is that speaks between tracks), are - and I kid you not - 'Joy to the World' and 'Silent Night.' Folks, I'm going to break this down for you real quick: Chipmunks should not exist in the same universe as Christianity. They exist in kids' movies and TV shows, sure, but nowhere in any of these mediums is religion referenced at all. . . and I assume this is because by having Chipmunks and a higher power in the same plane of existence would mean that some kind of deity exists that sanctioned the creation of these f***ing Chipmunks.

Just imagine the same god that signed off on the whole Jesus thing - the miracle of his birth, his teachings, his sacrifice and resurrection, the whole nine yards - just so happens to be the same, exact god that one day went, 2000 years later,"You know what this world of mine needs? Three, singing Chipmunks. Three - and later six - singing Chipmunks who will record multiple albums, launch multiple TV reboots and movies, and do so without having the decency of wearing pants. And they'll be able to speak English and will be roughly the same size as midgets."

So yeah, having Chipmunks singing songs praising aforementioned deity is a little creepy for laid-back, Holiday listening.

"The Night Before Christmas," which is basically some of these 'Santa's Helpers' sing-reciting the famous poem to some random music. It's not awesome by any measure, but it's the first time since dropping the needle on this album that I've heard a halfway respectable Children's Christmas song.

Half of Side B is taken up by a 'dramatic telling' of Dickens' A Christmas Carol (think of like the dramas people used to listen to on the radio back in the 1940's, with like voice actors and sound effects and whatever.) Again, this is done with some competency, at least compared to the opposite side of the record, with the Go-Bot Chipmunks shittiness, but its a very shortened version of the classic story, and is over in a matter of minutes.

Then it's time for a children's choir, who shuffle in fresh on the heels of Story Time, for 'God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen,' 'Twelve Days of Christmas' and 'We Wish You a Merry Christmas.' They're accompanied by a sad, dying church organ, which sounds like the musical version of the sad, dying woman who's playing it. Like, I get it, this is a Children's Christmas Album, you've got little kids singing and everything, but for THE LOVE OF GOD - you're trying to get kids into the spirit of Christmas, you really wanna traumatize them with this agonizing church organ? Remind them of sitting bored in church with their parents and grandparents, when they could be running around their segregated, 1960s neighborhood, playing stick-and-hoop or kick-the-can or whatever the hell it was kids did back then? Nobody around here owns an electric guitar or a trumpet or something? 

F***, I'd even settle for that weird accordion we heard on the title track at this point.

VERDICT:  2/10 - Reality TV (A train wreck of a Children's Christmas Album, but a couple not-terrible tracks save it from being the worst Children's Christmas Album I've ever heard.)

- SHELVED -

- Brian

Ep. CXLI: 'Songs for All Seasons' - Angelus Choir

Alright music lovers, time for another frightening dive into the nether regions of Holiday musicalness. . . 

Album Title:  Songs for All Seasons

Album Artist:  Angelus Choir, Directed by Naomi Stucki

I've reviewed a lot of Christmas albums over the years with choirs, but I don't think I've ever reviewed one this low budget before.

This lil' beauty was picked up from Radio Wasteland a couple years ago (from the Dollar Bin, obviously), and its selection was based solely on the fact that something this ridiculous-looking - and obviously low-budget - would have to be pretty fun to listen to.

It did not disappoint.

I often remark about 'production value' in these Christmas Records posts, how some albums seem to have a lot of money behind them judging by the quality of the mix, the arrangements, vocal levels/clarity, etc. Other times albums appear to be mixed by a brace of crackheads who have broken into a basement in order to steal copper wiring to fund their next fix, only to find a crappy, DIY recording studio on the other side of a beat-up washer and dryer.

There's zero 'production value' to speak of on this album. This album sounds as if someone brought out a cassette recorder, hit 'record', and let a room full of young girls give it the ol' college try for a half an hour or so.

Basically how I recorded all my college band albums back in the early 2000s. Except replace 'teenage girls' with 'drunk guys in their early 20s with delusions of grandeur.'

Anyway, here's what we got: there's a woman behind a church organ, but not one of those giant, brass-piped mamma jammas that shake the stone walls of a cathedral. Nay, this is one of those wood-paneled jobs that every congregation across the United States has (almost always manned by some 90-year-old woman whose sole, remaining purpose in life is to man said instrument.) In fact, this maybe one of those instances where we can 100% judge an album by it's cover, folks - this is exactly what this album sounds like.

They bring in like twenty or so teenage girls, have them crowd around the old crone and her organ (and sometimes she's got it set to 'piano'), and have them sing a selection of church music. Based on the audio, I'd wager that the audio is being picked up from a solitary microphone suspended from the ceiling, right above the organ. The vocals drown out the organ whenever the gals start belting it out, and I'd make a joke here about 'yOu'D tHiNk ThEsE gUyS wOuLd SpRiNg FoR aNoThEr MiCrOpHoNe,' or something, but based on the fact that the rear side of this album sleeve is BLANK (see image at right), I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that money is an issue.

Which makes sense when you realize that this First Congregational Church, located in my old college stomping ground of Kalamazoo, Michigan, is no longer a church and is now some local library or something. If only they would have sold more of these stellar choir albums, maybe they wouldn't have had to close down, who knows.

So can the ladies sing on this album? Uh, I guess - they sound like a high school choir singing, honestly. Probably better than I could sing, but like, who cares? 

I guess I'm struggling with the whole purpose of this album, you know? Who's the target audience, these kids' parents? Folks who attend (well, used to attend) this church? If the First Congregational gang ended up shutting down, was this recording why? Did this fool-hardy project bankrupt them? I can't imagine pressing vinyl was super cheap back in the day, and they clearly didn't have a giant budget to begin with (see: no rear sleeve art, only one microphone, etc.) Was this a wise move, recording this in the first place? Couldn't these kids' parents just listen to them sing in church and call it good? Why waste the money?

Anyway, back to the music, sorry. About 80% of the music on this album doesn't even qualify as Christmas music. It's mostly church music, so the fact they titled this venture 'Songs for All Seasons' is kinda shitty. Yes, technically you're right - you can listen to church music all season long. But who's going to throw this album on in the middle of May with a few Christmas songs on it? I love me some Christmas music, but even I cringe whenever I hear Holiday jams outside of the mid-November to New Years Eve window. 

In summary, this album is a choir of teenage girls singing along with an organ, poorly recorded, with a track list that could hardly be considered a Christmas album at all. The singing isn't terrible, per se, it's just a bunch of teenage girls singing along to church music. . . so, if that's your thing you might actually like this (though that's a bit pedo-ish of you, not gonna lie.) Personally, as I listen to it I find myself not being impressed or entertained at all. If anything, I want to learn more about these girls' identities and what ever happened to them. Did any of them ever go on to record further music? Do they work at the library now? So many questions. . .

VERDICT:  3/10 - Seriously? (A gaggle of teenage girls from Kalamazoo poorly record an album that hardly qualifies as a Christmas music, bankrupt their church, then. . . I don't know, probably go on to make further poor decisions later in life.)

- SHELVED -

- Brian