 Various Artists The Verve Songbook series has produced some of the best compilations of vocal jazz you can find – tastefully selected performances of classic standards by some of the most celebrated vocalists in history. The folks at Verve have a real knack for programming underrated artists alongside the more famous ones to create consistently surprising and well-balanced portraits of some of America's towering songwriters. The series is propped up by classic Verve and EmArcy recordings by Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong, Anita O'Day, Sarah Vaughan, Blossom Dearie, Billy Eckstine, Helen Merrill, and other greats; the series producers take many risks in including lesser-known singers, risks that usually pay off. With the Harold Arlen Songbook, though, I'd have to say that the risks do not serve the greater good. Of all the volumes in the series, this one is by far the schmaltziest, and least relevant to people under the age of 60. It may well be that Arlen's songs lend themselves all too well to a "Let's put on a show!" type approach, but even so, there's not much real heart to be found here. Tons of "magic," though I don't mean that in the best possible way. Having established that this is my least favorite installment of all the Verve Songbooks, let me now say that, even so, it is still a Verve Songbook. Many great moments abound, such as Helen Merrill's definitive "Any Place I Hang My Hat is Home" (from Dream of You, which is well worth owning itself), Blossom Dearie's near-punk "Down With Love" (from the classic Once Upon a Summertime), and, improbably, Mel Tormé's "Sleepin' Bee," which ought to be much cheesier than it is. Some of the second-tier pleasures are Sarah Vaughan's "Hit the Road to Dreamland" and the unheralded Morgana King's "It's Only a Paper Moon." An uninissued version of "Last Night When We Were Young" by Margaret Whiting is pretty special. Too many of the tracks, though, just get plain annoying, like Billy Daniel's drunkenly "comedic" romp through "That Old Black Magic," The Skylarks' hyper "Ridin' on the Moon," and Frances Faye's campily menacing "Out of This World." These push the disc perilously close to the Ultra Lounge approach, so I suppose any remaining "Swingers" will undoubtedly enjoy it. Old and/or gay folks who remember the songs and artists will undoubtedly get a kick out of this disc. They are great songs, for sure, but enjoyment of this disc really depends on your penchant for hammy vocals. Speaking of hammy vocals, I should mention that the ubiquitous and wildly overrated Louis Armstrong opens the disc with "I Gotta Right to Sing the Blues." Maybe so, but he should have exercised his right to sing in that cartoony voice a bit more selectively. That guy was just a caricature.
Review by Wimpempio Turlkey |