Ep. CXIV: 'For Christmas This Year' - The Lettermen

I'm gonna recommend each and every one of you go run to the cabinet real fast and grab yourself a couple of NoDoz real quick before we start this evening's installment, folks. . . 

Album Title:  For Christmas This Year

Album Artist:  The Lettermen

Another solid-gold gem from a Christmas run to Radio Wasteland, this album was a long, long time coming, folks. It was only a matter of time before The Lettermen finally graced my turntable on this Christmas Record Odyssey of mine, and to be honest I'm kinda surprised they haven't already.

If you've never frequented the used records section of your local thrift store (don't worry, its there), you probably can't understand what I'm getting at. You see, when a record collector goes hunting for vinyl, they're presented with some alternatives. First, they can shop online (via Amazon, Discogs, SoundofVinyl, Merchbar, etc.), which usually have the best prices, best availability, etc.  Second, they can head on over to their local record store, which provides the cool atmosphere and the camaraderie of being around other collectors, talking shop and learning more. . . the downside, alas, being prices and availability aren't usually as great as online shopping.

Then there's your third option - they can slum it up in their local shit holes. Flea/antique markets, garage sales, and thrift stores.

This is the Wild West of record collecting, because it's a total crap-shoot with regards to pricing and what you stumble across. Some antique stores think some dusty, scratched up Elvis record is worth $50 just because it's Elvis, all because they don't know shit about record collecting and haven't taken the time to look up the value of it on Discogs. Other times you can hit up a garage sale where some lady just got a divorce and she wants her husband's record collection liquidated. 

I once scored over one hundred albums once for $10 when I had only been collecting for a few years this way, I still remember it. 

Thrift stores are probably the worst place to look, though. This is almost always the absolute dregs of the physical media world, because it houses those albums that other folks have deemed crappy enough to get rid of, but not good enough for other people in society to purchase back from the thrift store. This is the fabled Land of Mantovani, of Mitch Miller, of Lawrence Welk, of The Ames Brothers, of Anne Murray, of Roger Whitaker, and of The Lettermen.

Like I said before, I'm surprised this is the first time I've gotten around to reviewing The Lettermen on here, because this is literally all I've ever seen at thrift stores - their dusty, old bullshit. I was curious to know what the hype (or lack thereof) was all about. So upon dropping the needle on this album, the first thing that hit me was, "Damn, I didn't realize any three vocalists out there could make Three Dog Night sound so f***ing hard. . ." 

This is, without a doubt, the most inoffensive easy listening music I've ever heard. You could play this in front of anyone, at any time: in the middle of church, to your grandparents while they're having sex, to a little kid in the middle of the night while wearing a werewolf mask in order to soothe them back to sleep, you name it. It works on so many levels. 

Now, I should point out real fast that the music itself on this album is straight-up '4' territory - it's boring, but it is competent. This is 'Great Songs of Christmas' music, the kind you''d expect backing Johnny Mathis, Julie Andrews, Andy Williams, etc. - which is also easy listening music, but a few clicks up from these douchebags in terms of 'star power,' I guess.  So I have zero issue with the arrangements on here. . . though I do with some of the song choices - which are so bad where they may be 'originals,' God forbid.) If going by music alone, in fact (like, if it was an instrumental release), I'd probably give this one a '4.' Maybe a '5.'

But Goddamn it all to Hell. . . these vocals.

From Our House to Yours, baby girl. . .

At no point, throughout the entirety of this album, do The Letterman push their voices out of the malaise of background vocals-ish harmonizing.  Not one of these creepy-looking assholes (see picture at right) attempt to 'belt out' any of their songs - not at a chorus, not at a reprise, nothing. There's no variation in the volume of their singing, ever - it's almost like they had to sign some kind of a clause with this record deal where they had to record everything so that it came across as the audio equivalent of mayonnaise. Consequently, all three voices blend together into some kind of nauseating,  Valium cocktail, lulling the listener into a state of near-comatose over the course of twelve songs.

After two sides of such sleepy singing, one almost wishes for the cheesy, over-the-top 'operatic' singing we've previously ridiculed on this blog over the years. If only to snap us out of our induced comas. 

Perhaps if they had drank a cup of coffee (or six) before recording albums like this one here, there wouldn't be so f***ing many of them cluttering up your local thrift store. . .

VERDICT:  3/10 - Seriously? (Do NOT listen to this album while operating heavy machinery.)

- SHELVED-

- Brian

Ep. I: 'Merry Christmas' - Johnny Mathis

 Hi gang.

So, it occurred to me, as we prepare to kick off the Holiday Season, that Yours Truly hasn't shared with you before one of my all-time, favorite Holiday traditions. . .

The systematic audio-scrutinization of every, last one of my Christmas Records.

Every year, during the week of Thanksgiving, I pull out all of my Holiday records from their designated spot on my record shelving, and place them in random order right next to my turntable.  For the next five or six weeks, they are the only records I allow to grace my turntable - all of my other records have to sit in a Yuletide Time-Out until January 2nd.  I play every, last Christmas album I own - regardless of how God-awful horrible it is - appreciating the awesome (or terrible) music, LP artwork, and - more often than not - the inspirational Christmas message scrawled across the back of the record cover.

Then, if the record proves itself worthy, it remains next to the turntable to be played later on in the season (usually multiple times.)  If not, back on the shelf it goes, lucky to have been played at all.

Now, just so you know, most of my Christmas albums were either a.) inherited from grandparents, b.) picked up at thrift stores for 99 cents, or, most commonly, c.) crammed in amongst one of my many garage-sale hauls.  See, down in Florida, I would frequently score stacks of vinyl records in Hunter's Creek community garage sales.  Generally something like $10 for about fifty or sixty records or so.  Lots of John Denver, lots of Winger, lots of Charley Pride, lots of Johnny Mathis.  After chucking the scratched records, the records I didn't want, and the doubles I already owned, I'd have a solid twenty or so records to augment my ever-expanding record collection.  

Usually, I'd keep the Christmas stuff (so long as it wasn't scratched to shit), because - no matter how terrible it might be - the songs are familiar, and each LP gives the daily Holiday listening session a unique (and often hilariously bad) music experience. 

Now, I always kick off this particular tradition of mine during the Thanksgiving week, as back when I was a teacher in Florida I had a full-week off of work, and that was technically our start to the Holiday Season.  With that in mind, today - Sunday, November 22nd - marks the beginning of this year's Great Christmas Record Odyssey.

Let's do this. . .

Album Title:  Merry Christmas

Album Artist:  Johnny Mathis

Just so you know, like many of my other Holiday records, I did not walk into a record store and pick this up on purpose.  Definitely not.  Most of the songs here are standard-issue fare, belted out (likely) in a pill-induced, mellow croon guaranteed to put you to sleep.  Some may disagree with me, but to me this is music my grandparents likely made out to back in the '50s.  While wearing turtlenecks and drinking egg nog at 3pm on a Tuesday.  In fact, they probably fell asleep making out to this album, which is. . . well, weird.

Now let's take a closer look at this album cover:

Clearly, Mr. Mathis has just been skiing.  No big deal, right?  Well, he's sitting in the snow in frickin' slacks. . . which, to me, implies that he just fell on his ass.  Why else would you willingly sit down in the snow in your church pants?  And why the hell would you be smiling about it?  I was on the ski team in high school, and I never smiled after falling - it hurt like hell.  

In addition, I don't see goggles or a hat, either, which, to me, means one of two things:  1.) he's just so damn good at skiing that he doesn't need them (which makes me wonder why he's wasting his time recording Christmas albums that put grandparents to sleep), or 2.) he's so doped up on those sleepy music-inducing pills that he forget the bulk of his ski-ware at home.  Supporting this second point is the fact that, if you look closely, you'll see that he's propping himself up by his left arm. . . with his BARE HAND buried in the snow.  Probably 'cause he can't feel his extremities.

The moral of the story, kids?

Don't do drugs. 

VERDICT:  5/10 - Meh (points for ridiculously hilarious album artwork)

- SHELVED -

- Brian