 Singers Unlimited Put a sound picture in your mind of what it would sound like for a group of jingle singers to attempt the most ambitious concept album of all time, and you begin to get a feel for the truly out-there sounds of the Singers Unlimited. You know those vocals-only tracks on the Beach Boys box set that show off the group's amazing harmonies apart from the instrumental backing tracks? Well, that's pretty much how the Singers Unlimited always sounded: four pristine vocalists, often multitracked, singing together as a unit in total sublimation of each individual voice. The Manhattan Transfer would make millions with a more easily accessible version of this shtick, but the Singers were quite a bit more artistic in their approach. The group was basically a commercial outlet for Gene Puerling's kookily perfect arrangements. Puerling had some success with the Hi-Lo's prior to forming this group, but it was with the Singers that he would undoubtedly attain his greatest achievements in harmonic craziness. Some cuts give Esquivel a run for his money, and most make the Carpenters sound quite restrained. I imagine Richard Carpenter hearing a Singers Unlimited album and shouting in frustration "God, now we'll have to put on twice as many harmonies as we've been doing!!!!" The overall sound is impeccable easy listening, yet it's so deeply easy listening that most people, even fans of the genre, would begin pursing their lips and squinting their eyes as though eating an overripe grapefruit upon hearing it. That's a good thing, I'm pretty sure. The best-of Masterpieces is definitely a connoisseur's cheese, something that will reward those who have traveled far down the loungecore road to where most people have never gone and from where few are ever seen again. It's for people whose explorations in the world of cheesy music have left them without a "good/bad" filter. This disc kicks off with a jazz version of "Sesame Street" that is probably quite odd, but I just like it. Similar treatments of "The Fool on the Hill" and "Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah" ought to repulse me, I suppose, but I just hand the keys to my ears and let them drive me home. The bulk of the disc (the only single-disc retrospective of the Singers' career, by the way) is given to rather tasteful but always intriguing versions of jazz standards ("Skylark," "Prelude to a Kiss," "It Could Happen to You," "All the Things You Are," etc.). Lots of "dah-dah-dah-dah" intros and jazz chord harmonies that would make most high school choir members quit on the spot (which, incidentally, is a development I would support). Three men (Puerling, Len Dresslar, and Don Shelton, who is best known as the voice of the Jolly Green Giant) and the amazingly smooth Bonnie Herman blend their voices so tightly you almost assume it's one person overdubbed a bunch of times. That they sometimes apply their magic to songs like "Feelings" is beside the point. I think. It's a great CD, one I put on whenever I want to create a sonic facsimile of what it's like to be lobotomized. The utter earnestness of it all will drive most lounge music lovers back to their "space age bachelor pad" music, but the truly hip know it's hard to beat the Singers Unlimited for unadulterated, unironic mood music. They never had much success, at least in the US, where they were simply over the heads of the 70s music buying public. They recorded for MPS Records in West Germany, produced mainly by Hans Georg Brunner-Schwer, who gets the typical MPS sonic perfection on each track. The only real drawback to the disc is that many of the accompanied tracks are a bit too gooey ("Sweet Georgia Brown" is about as over-the-top as songs can get, with disco drums, big band bleating, and rapid-fire vocal harmonies), but there are so many standouts (a cover of Blossom Dearie's "I'm Shadowing You" that even beats Blossom's, just a marvelous version of a wonderfully quirky song) I'd still say Masterpieces is essential listening. Fans of vocal harmony must not pass it up. Foes of vocal harmony will liken it to Kryptonite. Myself, I just sit back and let it massage my synapses until the ol' brain's operating on standby.
Review by Joe Panda |