{"id":325,"date":"2010-09-07T05:45:42","date_gmt":"2010-09-07T10:45:42","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blog.musoscribe.com\/?p=325"},"modified":"2010-09-07T05:45:42","modified_gmt":"2010-09-07T10:45:42","slug":"album-review-allan-sherman-reissue-series","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/blog.musoscribe.com\/index.php\/2010\/09\/07\/album-review-allan-sherman-reissue-series\/","title":{"rendered":"Album Review: Allan Sherman Reissue Series"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"http:\/\/www.musoscribe.com\/images\/allan_sherman.jpg\" alt=\"Allan Sherman\" align=\"right\" height=\"704\" hspace=\"10\" vspace=\"10\" width=\"175\" \/>Sometimes, all it takes to forge a career is a solid and\/or unique concept. <strong>Elva Miller<\/strong> sold a lot of records in the 1960s with her odd covers of the hits of the day. What made Mrs. Miller so, um, <em>special <\/em>was  her singular approach to the vocals: she sounded like nothing so much  as the lady in the row behind you at Sunday mass. Her voice bore little  of what might charitably be called commercial appeal, and perversely,  therein lay her appeal: she was a novelty. (To sharpen the point, on her  records, where the instrumental solo would usually belong, Mrs. Miller  would whistle. Badly.)<\/p>\n<p>And while the comedy record developed into a legitimate and significant  portion of the consumer market, not all of the artists were lacking in  substance. Many comedy albums of the era are now regarded as classics: <strong>Bob Newhart<\/strong>, <strong>Shelley Berman<\/strong> and <strong>Vaughan Meader<\/strong> (<em>The First Family<\/em>) all enjoyed well-deserved success. But whatever their merits, those artists weren&#8217;t performing music.<\/p>\n<p>Allan Sherman bridged the gap. Over the course of several albums during  his heyday (mostly the first half of the 1960s), Sherman created a  singular body of work. His approach was deceptively simple: take a  well-known melody &#8212; something in the public domain, preferably &#8212; and  write some comedy lyrics to put atop it. The lyrics would often make use  of puns (&#8220;Shine On, Harvey Bloom,&#8221; &#8220;Pop Hates the Beatles,&#8221; &#8220;Bye Bye  Blumberg&#8221;) and &#8212; if you haven&#8217;t picked up on it already &#8212; he leaned in  a Catskills Jewish comedy direction.<\/p>\n<p>Sherman&#8217;s approach was winning. The man&#8217;s struggles to stay in tune &#8212;  while the expert bands played behind him &#8212; were part of the fun. And  while the lyrics probably resonated most with Jewish Americans, his  borscht-belt appeal appealed to a very wide audience. While much of the  material was just plain silly, it was expertly paced (often with a punch  line to end the song) and engaged in clever word play. How else to  explain a rewrite of the ballad of train engineer Casey Jones as &#8220;J. C.  Cohen&#8221;?<\/p>\n<p>Doubtless, Sherman&#8217;s most immortal tune is &#8220;Hello Muddah, Hello Fadduh! (A Letter From Camp)&#8221; from the 1963 LP <em>My Son, The Nut<\/em>. Thanks to the radio programming of <strong>Barry Hansen<\/strong> (better known as <strong>Dr. Demento<\/strong>)  the song would enjoy steady airplay well into the future. But the  briskly-selling albums Sherman released in the sixties would be drilled  into the imagination of youngsters like this writer, who has vivid  memories of hearing Sherman&#8217;s debut LP (<em>My Son, The Folk Singer<\/em> from 1962) played whenever Mom and Dad had adult friends over.<\/p>\n<p>One of many critical components of Sherman&#8217;s success was his approach to  recording: all the albums (save one) were recorded onstage in front of a  (presumably well-oiled) audience. The laughs are frequent and genuine.  And Sherman&#8217;s everyman vocal approach bears repeated listening; unlike  many comedy LPs, the grooves of a Sherman LP would wear out before the  record&#8217;s welcome would.<\/p>\n<p>Collectors&#8217; Choice has reissued no less than eight Allan Sherman LPs,  with new liner notes from Hansen. Sherman&#8217;s first three records &#8212; all  of which charted #1 &#8212; are all uproarious. The <em>My Son<\/em> trilogy (<em>&#8230;The Folk Singer<\/em>,  <em>&#8230;The Celebrity<\/em> and <em>&#8230;The Nut<\/em>)  have all worn well; despite their often dated subjects, the material is  still funny. But perhaps the most successful is the 1965 album <em>For Swingin&#8217; Livers Only<\/em>.  Here Sherman takes a more ambitious and varied musical approach, and  the lyrical wit is as sharp as ever. Surprisingly, this album only  reached #32 on the charts.<\/p>\n<p>Those four discs were previewed for this piece, the other four were not.  The latter titles span the period 1964-1967 and include Sherman&#8217;s final  disc <em>Togetherness<\/em>. On that disc Sherman dispensed with the  audience and made a studio recording. Sadly, by 1973 he was dead from  emphysema and general poor health due to his weight.<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Timeless&#8221; is an apropos description of these records. They hearken back  to a simpler, more innocent time, but they&#8217;re witty enough not to seem  overly quaint. Check &#8217;em out and enjoy some belly laughs.<\/p>\n<p><center><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 9px\"><a href=\"http:\/\/www.twitter.com\/the_musoscribe\" class=\"body\">Follow &#8220;the_musoscribe&#8221; on <img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"http:\/\/musoscribe.com\/images\/icon_twitter_small.jpg\" valign=\"middle\" border=\"0\" height=\"18\" hspace=\"1\" vspace=\"0\" width=\"18\" \/> Twitter<\/a> and get notified<br \/>\nwhen new features, reviews and essays are published.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 9px\"> DISCLOSURE OF MATERIAL CONNECTION:<br \/>\n<a href=\"http:\/\/cmp.ly\/1\" target=\"_blank\"><img decoding=\"async\" src=\"http:\/\/musoscribe.com\/images\/cmply_1.png\" alt=\"I have a material connection because I received a sample or review copy, or an item of nominal value that I can keep for consideration in preparing to write this content. I was\/am expected to return this item after my review.\" border=\"0\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<p><\/center><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Sometimes, all it takes to forge a career is a solid and\/or unique concept. Elva Miller sold a lot of records in the 1960s with her odd covers of the [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_exactmetrics_skip_tracking":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[65],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-325","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-review","cat-65-id"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/blog.musoscribe.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/325","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/blog.musoscribe.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/blog.musoscribe.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/blog.musoscribe.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/blog.musoscribe.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=325"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/blog.musoscribe.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/325\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/blog.musoscribe.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=325"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/blog.musoscribe.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=325"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/blog.musoscribe.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=325"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}