[.ca] The Greatest Songs of the Fifties

Vapid Pop Idol for the Middle-Aged (Who Aren't Necessarily..:
Barry Manilow - The Greatest Songs of the Fifties - Vapid Pop Idol for the Middle-Aged (Who Aren't Necessarily Shopping for Music)..... It wasn't uncommon to see Barry Manilow on TV when I was little. As I was entering Kindergarten, he was at the height of his fame, and my memories of doing household chores are inevitably set to a soundtrack frought with Manilow - songs like "Even Now", "Ships", and my own personal favorite "Could It Be Magic?". I confess. I love this music, and not just because every time I hear Barry Manilow sing "The Old Songs", it brings back visions of my Mom vacuuming our living room. (Actually, I still love these songs in spite of that vision.) So there. I like Barry. Shoot me. But one thing that always drove me nuts about him was that every time he came on TV, it always started this debate between my Dad and me. "Now, there's a true musician, Paul," he would say. "Not like the sort of thing you hear on one of your radio stations." True enough. But then he'd continue: "You know, your generation just won't have stars like Barry Manilow. None of the songs you listen to are going to last. None of those singers are going to last like he has." And with that, it would get personal. The gloves would come off, and I would passionately defend the virtues of, y'know, Steel Breeze, and demonstrate how, yes absolutely, 25 years from then, people would still love Steel Breeze and think they were one of the greatest groups ever, and people would still be dancing to their song "You Don't Want Me Anymore" at weddings for ever and ever, hallelujah, hallelujah. Granted, I may have backed a hobbled horse in that particular case. But, hey. I was right about Prince. Sometimes it seems that parents exist for the sole purpose of telling you how crappy your taste in music is; how empty and vapid your teen idols; how slick, commercial and produced their sounds; how unmemorable and bubblegum your precious teenybop. At some point, it seems, anyone who becomes a parent forgets that once upon a time, they heard all the same stuff from their own parents, and yet, we all live long enough to prove our parents pretty much wrong in that respect. Now that I'm a Dad, I'd like not to fall into that trap. So whenever I hear Stew singing that damned "Laffy Taffy" song, I try to maintain an air of feigned interest. As much as his music offends my refined, experienced, and I may say, impeccable musical sensibilities, I play along, knowing that today's empty tripe may be tomorrow's respectable pop standard. This isn't always as easy leap for me to make. But Barry Manilow has come to my rescue with his newest album The Greatest Songs of the Fifties. Now, instead of trashing one of my son's favorite groups which just happens to be ruling the pop charts at the given moment, I can trash one of my parents' favorite artists - who also just happens to be ruling the pop charts at this given moment. The Greatest Songs of the Fifties debuted on Billboard's Top 200 album charts at #1. And I can say, without reservation, that despite the incongruity of Manilow breathing the same rarified commercial air as artists like Eminem, Carrie Underwood and Jamie Foxx, there is one thing that sorta makes the record belong up there: It's crap, pure and simple. It's market-tested, artistically empty, manufactured product, which essentially serves the same purpose for fiftyandsixtysomethings that, say, a new Black Eyed Peas single serves for teenagers. It's something new to buy. It's the kind of record best merchandized next to the tabloid magazines and budget DVDs next to the check-out counters at the local Target store. Bought in an impulse, listened to in the car a couple of times, discarded and forgotten about. This is especially disheartening for two specific reasons. One: We know from Neil Diamond's recent album that an artist can be a punchline and still be relevant; and Two: We also know from some of Barry's own relatively recent records (and I'm thinking of loose concept albums like Summer of '78 and especially Here At the Mayflower), that he has both the ambition and the craftsmanship to pull off something truly new and neato. Instead, he's gone for the easy sell. A collection of thirteen candy-coated nostaglia trips that add nothing of note to Manilow's immense body of work, nor to any of the songs he's selected. Though Manilow has written many of his own songs, he would be the first to tell you that his primary strength is more on the arranging/production side. But you'd never know it from these recordings, which are essentially stale karaoke performances of songs already widely available in forms that are much spicier and interesting than these. Who really needs to hear Barry singing "All I Have to Do Is Dream"? He's in terrific voice on the song, and his performance is light and affectionate - it's probably one of the record's most listenable tracks. But really, is it necessary? One of the saddest parts of this record is how many of these songs ("Moments to Remember", "Love is a Many Splendored Thing") are popular for the jazzy three-and-four part harmonies that marked classic recordings by The Four Aces and the Hi-Los. Here Barry sings them solo, effectively sapping them of their high, cinematic drama, and dropping them into a moldy adult contemporary soup. The song selection, for the most part, is safe and predictable - yes, he does "Unchained Melody" too - and keeps a safe distance from just about anything that might be construed as rock n roll. The closest he comes is with a clone of Frankie Avalon's dreamy teen idol anthem "Venus", essentially pointing to the album's fatal artistic flaw. This is empty pop music of the sort my parents would have scolded me for when I was 10. Only now it's being marketed to them, and unfortunately, apparently, our parents are no more discerning as fiftysomethings as we were as teens. It'll sell like crazy. There's no doubt Clive Davis knows what he's doing when he's selling an artist like Mario's merchandise. What's he's done for Manilow is merely the same trick, different demographic. How sad.

• Moments To Remember
• It’s All In The Game
• Unchained Melody
• Venus
• It’s Not For Me To Say
• Love Is A Many Splendored Thing
• Rags To Riches
• Sincerely/Teach Me Tonight (Duet with Phyllis McGuire)
• Are You Lonesome Tonight?
• Young At Heart
• All I Have To Do Is Dream
• What A Diff’rence A Day Made
• Beyond The Sea