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TALK SINGING . Threat Or Menace? > Kurt Sayenga Talk-singing: surprisingly effective in the right hands, but in the wrong hands a sinister force that brings the heartiest of sonic adventurers down to their knees in sorrow. Herewith, a whiplash talk-sung tour, equal parts heaven and hell (made further hellish by my ineptitude as a disc jockey; all apologies for mangling Telly Savalas and various other infractions). We begin with Sebastian Cabot performing "Don't Think Twice, It's Alright," taken from the long player Sebastian Cabot, Actor...Bob Dylan, Poet. Recorded during the mid-1960s, the golden age of talk singing. Apparently the Los Angeles reservoir was dosed with powerful hallucinogens, thus provoking record company executives to say things like: "Got an idea: Sebastian Cabot does dramatic readings of Bob Dylan songs! Whadya think, giant blue lizard-man?" "Groovy! The kids will dig it the most!" Then, Charles Boyer brings his ineffable Gallic ennui to a stirring rendition of "What Now My Love," a recording that somehow simultaneously scales the twin peaks of pathos and bathos. Think you've suffered the puncture wounds of Cupid's arrows? Chuck is here to school you: no one suffers the way he suffers. You're probably not even French. Next, the Spacemen 3 give us a little dose of revolution. The time is definitely right for it. But before you toss those molotov cocktails, beware: Dragnet's Jack Webb is on the case. He's got a gun, a broken heart and nothing to lose. The barest trace of human emotion nearly breaks through the permafrost surface of Webb's take on the accusatory classic "You've Changed." Then, the lithesome ladies of Ladytron perform their electroclash smash "I'm With the Pilots." (Remember electroclash? I don't either.) Free association: Pilots = sky = outer space = Mr. Spock = the Leonard Nimoy written-and-performed tune "Highly Illogical," taken from his album The Two Sides of Leonard Nimoy. This is from the Spock side. On the other side he sings about hobbits. I'm not making this up. Just try listening to it -- but first lock up all available sharp objects and give the key to someone who cares about you. Safety first. From Radiohead's OK Computer comes "Fitter, Happier," the most alienated track on a concept album about alienation. William Shatner, the uncrowned king of celebrity talk-singing, serves up a pandering live performance of "How to Handle a Woman" from a mid-'70s installment of The Dinah Shore Show, which encouraged this sort of thing (see Telly Savalas' entry below). To get the full effect, imagine Shatner singing this while wearing a silk shirt open to the naval, chains 'round his throat, and his TJ Hooker hairpiece. "I'm Going to Love You Just a Little Bit More, Baby," threatens Barry White, who pound-for-pound could hold his own against Sebastian Cabot. I heard this song when I was a boy and it made me feel funny all over. Still not sure if that was arousal or some sort of allergic reaction. After the loving, it's time for a bracing dose of Mark E. Smith of The Fall, the undisputed king of postpunk talk/singing. (It's a narrow field, but he's owned it since '77.) From the brand-new Fall lp Your Future, Our Clutter comes "Bury, Part 3." Peter Sellers was friends with The Beatles, particularly (and predictably) John Lennon. They loved this version of "A Hard Day's Night." You make me feel...okay. Mitch Miller and The Gang perform "Give Peace a Chance." Miller and his crew used to perform the top 10 hits of the day on radio, then later on the idiot box. This is the first and only time you will hear Mitch Miller talk/sing the word "masturbation." Or maybe he says "mastication." But you know he's thinking "masturbation." This recording encapsulates the Old Guard's utter contempt for the Beatles, hippies, drugs, blue jeans, free love and everything else they thought would lead to the downfall of western civilization. Unfortunately, they had a point. In a mirror image, Jad Fair of Half Japanese sets to music an attractive Italian professor's declaration that "U.S. Teens Are Spoiled Bums." Sometime in the 1970s, Telly Savalas performs "If" on the Dinah Shore Show. Well actually he's kinda sorta lipsynching to the track while smoking a cigarette, which is rather brave given the amount of polyester he's wearing. This is probably why he became a TV cop: nerves of steel, but with a little nugget of sensitivity hidden beneath those ultra-wide lapels. He was good in Kelly's Heroes, though. Or was that Don Rickles? (Trick question: they were both in Kelly's Heroes!) Sebastian Cabot returns with "All I Really Want to Do." Sebastian says he just wants to be friends, but he says that to all the girls. Clearly he pictures you ladies sprawled across his girth, gently picking moldy breadcrumbs from his beard. This way lies heaven. A slight detour takes us to Kim Gordon of The Sonic Youth, talk/singing her way through "Beauty Lies in the Eye," from the Youth's album Sister. I could have used their song about Karen Carpenter here but it's too fucking depressing. Randy Newman gets written off by people who are only familiar with his songs for Disney films. Those people are unaware that Newman is one of the most caustic human beings who ever trod the soil of North America. Here's the deceptively cheerful song "Potholes" from his album Harps and Angels. Greg Morris played Barney on "Mission: Impossible." Morris was soulful, but not quite soulful enough to pull off a talk/singing cover of "My One and Only Love." (What exactly was going on with these massively egotistical television stars of the '60s/'70s? Hallucinogens in the water supply. It's really the only explanation.) Speaking of massive egotism, we come to Stephen Patrick Morrissey. One must concede that Morrissey has a biting sense of humor, but here we find him committing the felony crime of dead-serious talk/singing while mired in anger and self-pity. Taken from the CD Maladjusted, "Sorrow Will Come in the End" was recorded just after Morrissey and Johnny Marr were successfully sued for millions by the Smith's rhythm section. Surely we can all relate to his pain. Next, the mighty Minutemen tear through "The Punch Line." They're unhappy with General George A. Custer, the American patriot and Indian fighter. John Wayne's "Why I Love Her" is taken from his epic songcycle America, Why I Love Her. There is not a trace of irony in this performance, which is the best thing about it. Fun fact: John Wayne starred in the film Fort Apache, in which he played a cavalry officer forced to serve under a pompous racist based on General George A. Custer. This ends, as all things must, with William Shatner. Some have heard "Mr. Tambourine Man" or "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" from the noted thespian's concept album Transformed Man, but few are familiar with the dramatic performances that precede those songs. Here, Shatner pairs a monologue from Hamlet with "It Was a Very Good Year." By juxtaposing "highbrow" literature and "lowbrow" popular songs, Shatner sought to create a hybrid art form that communicated on an intellectual and an emotional level. This was the '60s, before trash culture was commodified and you could say "fine art" or "intellectual" without people snickering. (But I'm not sure that you could ever say "William Shatner" without snickering.) KS |
 
Playlist Sebastian Cabot Don't Think Twice, It's Alright |
Pocketradio.org Show #75 > TALK SINGING . Threat Or Menace? > Kurt Sayenga
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