I'd Love to Turn You On #169 - Allen Sherman – My Son the Greatest

Allan Sherman - My Son The Greatest (The Best Of)

In this blessed season of light you may have often found yourself asking: “What would it be like to be Jewish during the Christmas season?” An excellent question, and I can answer it for you: it is humbling, interesting, a little isolating, but most of all, it is funny. The Jewish people have a long history of finding humor in all sorts of situations, and being kind of excluded from the biggest national holiday in the American calendar could be the source of weird feelings and bitterness, and yet… most of the great Christmas songs were written by Jews and I personally love Christmas. I like the lights, I like the happiness it brings kids, I like that people try to be nice to their families and neighbors - all good! Growing up in New York, both the beauty and emotional schism of the holiday were even more apparent. Many Jews in America in the 20^th century developed their own interesting and funny traditions. Going to a movie and out for Chinese (another group in some ways excluded from Christmas) food is a huge deal. Participating in the gift giving, but not really knowing why - big. Watching Christmas movies and appreciating them for their achievements in cinematography - big! But biggest for our family was Christmas 1962 when Jewish comedian Allan Sherman put out his My Son The Folk Singer album and Jews throughout America went into a spasm of laughter that, for me at least, has not subsided to this day. Sherman perfected the technique that has made Weird Al Yankovic a household name in the modern era. He took famous songs and made up new and hilarious lyrics to them.

I was lucky enough to meet Weird Al many years ago, and I asked him if he listened to Allan Sherman growing up. He actually got down on his knees, à la Wayne’s World, and said “I’m not worthy!” Yes, Allan Sherman was the best at song parodies. He brought a real sense of history, musicianship, and, as mentioned, Semitism to his work. In 1962 there weren’t that many Yiddish accents in mainstream media, yet, when Allan Sherman’s “Sarah Jackman” (a parody of “Frère Jacques”) was released and President John F. Kennedy was overheard singing it, suddenly the inverted clauses and misplaced proper nouns started to become part of American life. Sherman actually reached mega-stardom with his hit song “Hello Muddah, Hello Fadduh!” –which took the classical standard by Ponchielli, “Dance of the Hours,” and turned it into a letter from a homesick kid stuck at sleepaway camp. The song was an enormous hit and made Sherman very famous very fast. However, in my estimation it is the least of his accomplishments. My Son The Greatest is filled with hilarious adaptations of popular songs loaded with cultural references of the moment (in the late 50’s and early 60’s). He takes on advertising, fast food, consumerism, T.V., slang, The Beatles, beatniks, history, movie stars, politics, even Christmas itself.

For me, and I suspect for many other Jewish people, the best are his parodies of Jewish family life, where he affects the heavy Yiddish accent and makes merciless fun of the Jewish people’s halting steps into American culture. “Sarah Jackman,” “The Streets Of Miami,” “Shticks Of One And Half A Dozen Of The Other,” and most importantly “Shake Hands With Your Uncle Max,” in which he spits out more hilariously rhyming Jewish surnames than seems possible in three minutes, are the songs that really hit home with me. I remember my Dad having his drink come out of his nose the first time he heard these lines delivered:

Merowitz, Berowitz, Handelman, Schandelman
Sperber and Gerber and Steiner and Stone
Boskowitz, Lubowitz, Aaronson, Baronson, 
Kleinman and Feinman and Freidman and Cohen
Smallowitz, Wallowitz, Tidelbaum, Mandelbaum
Levin, Levinsky, Levine and Levi
Brumburger, Schlumburger, Minkus and Pinkus

And Stein with an ‘E-I’ and Styne with a ‘Y’

To hear our heritage yelled out proudly and humorously on a major-label release through our own hi-fi was just too great. It made me feel like I was part of the fabric of America, not an outsider. I liked and identified with being someone who was part of a great tradition of poking fun at ourselves and the world around us.

When I pulled out My Son The Greatest to listen to for this review each song reawakened wonderful feelings of self-awareness, nostalgia and yes, a little of the magic spirit.

Merry Christmas mine friends!

-          Paul Epstein

I'd Love to Turn You On At the Movies #139 - The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 (1986, dir. Tobe Hooper)

In 1974, director Tobe Hooper released The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, a nightmarish and intense horror film about a family of murderous cannibals that, with a budget of less than $100,000, raked in over $30 million in the U.S. alone and now stands high on almost any list of the all-time great horror films. Despite the film’s reputation (and title) its on-screen violence is actually quite mild – the makers had hoped to secure a PG rating – with the very effective result of leaving the more brutal aspects of the film’s violence to the viewer’s imagination. Hooper has long insisted that the film is a dark comedy, but because of the harrowing intensity that ended up earning it an R rating it can be hard for some viewers to laugh – except maybe as a release of tension. The success of the film lead Hooper and his co-screenwriter to start thinking up a sequel, but it kept getting back-burnered, shelved, and otherwise delayed until Hooper scrapped his initial sequel idea, connected with the producers of the notorious Cannon Films, and brought on a new screenwriter to create The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2.

For some reason, this film is decidedly less well-liked by most than the original. Not me though. Situated right in the middle of the 80s as the slasher (and sequel) era was giving way to some great horror-comedy (Re-Animator, Evil Dead 2, Return of the Living Dead, etc.) and featuring a promotional poster that mocked the then-hot film The Breakfast Club and bore the tagline “After a decade of silence… the buzzz is back,” the sequel seemed poised to be a worthy box office draw honoring the original classic. Add to this that it also utilized the talents of screenwriter L.M. Kit Carson (star of the 60s underground hit David Holman’s Diary, writer/director of the Dennis Hopper semi-documentary The American Dreamer, and writer of 1984’s Paris, Texas) and brought original director Tobe Hooper back into the fold along with actor Jim Siedow (reprising his role of The Cook from the original film). Carson took the comedic subtext of Hooper’s earlier film into something that openly satirized things that Hooper had been implicitly referring to – the Vietnam War (and now, its aftermath), The Cook ranting about how hard the competition is in capitalism for a working class chef, and so forth. Both are subtext in the 1974 film but very much on the surface here. And where the performances of the original strove for documentary-like realism, here the murderous family (plus Dennis Hopper as the avenging angel Lefty) are portrayed as over-the-top, seemingly designed solely to bring chuckles – or at least incredulity – throughout. And then there’s the blood – lots of it. This being the 80s, Hooper enlisted special effects master Tom Savini to provide the requisite amount of gore for the film (in addition to subtler work, like the aged face of the 137 year-old Grandpa), distributed in an equally over-the-top show to match the unhinged performances on tap.

And yet – even with its decidedly unrealistic tones, even with its over-the-top gore, even with its satirical flair, the film manages to be nearly as unnerving as the original. And that’s mainly due to our central character, the radio DJ Stretch (Caroline Williams in a mostly thankless role). She’s a late-night DJ who unwittingly overhears a murder by the family and is subsequently stalked by them. Her down-to-earth performance grounds the film from flying off into becoming the “geek show” that Roger Ebert (who hated it) saw in it. When she’s in danger, we’re scared. When a couple of the family members visit her at the radio station, it’s terrifyingly creepy. As the film progresses and she tracks the family to their underground lair it becomes something of an amped up remake of the first film’s climactic scenes (and a flash forward to Rob Zombie’s far less effective homage, House of 1000 Corpses), in which she’s imprisoned, tormented, and tries to escape while pursued by the chainsaw wielding killer Leatherface and his deranged brother. It’s easy to laugh it off if you want, but if you let it the film gets under your skin and becomes nearly as effective as the blunt nightmare of the original film.

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 was plagued with issues during its creation – money to make the film ebbed and flowed with the fortunes of producers Golan and Globus of Cannon Films (a low-budget studio that’s the subject of the entertaining documentary Electric Boogaloo: The Wild, Untold Story of Cannon Films). Hooper delivered a film he figured was in line with the violence quotient of the day but was slapped with an X by the ratings board, choosing to release the film unrated which lead to its distribution being severely hampered in the process. So in the same year that the utterly mediocre Jason Lives: Friday the 13th Part VI managed to draw nearly 20 million out of the pockets of filmgoers, this one – with intelligent (if not exactly artistic) ambitions – barely scraped out enough to make its budget back and make a few extra bucks. Dennis Hopper – right then in the middle of a run of films that included an Academy Award nomination for Hoosiers and other honors for his role in Blue Velvet – is alleged to have said that this was the worst film he’d ever been in. By contrast, Bill Moseley, who had the role of Leatherface’s brother Chop-Top, has named the role as his favorite of his own. I’m definitely in Moseley’s camp – not only does he turn in a truly effective performance, the film as a whole finds the perfect pitch of dark humor and nightmarish terror and stands as one of the highlights of 1980s horror/comedies.

-         Patrick Brown

I'd Love to Turn You On #144 - Tom Lehrer – That Was The Year That Was

Superlatives like ‘genius’ are often thrown around as casually as a baseball in modern culture, but very few folks are deserving of such high praise. Tom Lehrer is one of those people actually deserving of that title and set the benchmark high for what a “Renaissance Man” looks like in contemporary times.

I’ve always said that for someone to appreciate and understand what it is that they’re listening to, well, they have to know what it is that they’re listening to. In this instance, one needs to understand who Tom Lehrer is to really appreciate this record. Lehrer was considered a child prodigy who entered into Harvard University at age 15 to study math and also began writing comedic songs to entertain his peers. Following the completion of his Master’s, Lehrer took time off of working on his doctoral degree to serve in the U.S. military as a researcher at the Los Alamos Scientific Laboratory with the National Security Agency.  During this time, as a means of circumventing liquor restrictions, Lehrer would smuggle alcohol by mixing it with Jell-O and consequently invented the Jell-O shot.  I’ll say it again; this man invented the Jell-O shot! In 1960, Lehrer left his military career to return to his studies at Harvard. He would continue a career in academia as a professor at MIT and UC Santa Cruz teaching courses on political science, mathematics, and musical theatre.

With that in mind, on to That Was The Year That Was. Recorded at the hungry i Theatre in San Francisco in 1965, Lehrer performed a number of satirical songs taken from the NBC series That Was The Week That Was, an American spin-off of the BBC series of the same name. With only Lehrer on piano, his humorous, sociopolitical ditties did just what biting comedy should do - outrage and delight its audience alike. Keep in mind this was the United States in 1965; Lyndon B. Johnson and Leonid Brezhnev were in office while the Cold War and nuclear obliteration loomed over people’s heads, the war in Vietnam was unpopular and troop numbers were ramping up, religious faith was strong, and race tensions were as high as they had ever been in the country’s history.  People were understandably on edge, but Lehrer addressed all of these subjects head on and did so in a frank, witty manner. The album is certainly dated in this sense, but many of the songs’ undertones and messages still hold true to debates ongoing in today’s landscape.

The first cut of the album, “National Brotherhood Week,” addresses a week-long program sponsored by the National Conference for Community and Justice to promote social equality, but, as Lehrer points out, on the first day of it in 1965 Malcolm X was killed, “which gives you an idea of how effective the whole thing is….” “Send in the Marines,” a song about how “America always has this number one instrument of diplomacy to fall back on,” is critical of the United States’ overt use of militarism in foreign policy dealings, and strikes a chord even today when examining the United States’ military undertakings in Iraq, Afghanistan, and now with the Islamic State in Syria. “New Math” examines the ridiculous teaching trends during the 1960s that were done away with about as fast as they were conceived. “Alma” details the romps of Alma Mahler, a Viennese-born socialite and composer who became the wife, successively, of composer Gustav Mahler, architect Walter Gropius, and novelist Franz Werfel, as well as the consort of several other prominent men. Finally, one of my personal favorites, “The Vatican Rag,” a tune poking fun at the Second Vatican Council and the reform of Roman Catholic liturgy. During this album’s recording, actor Ricardo Montalban, a staunch and loyal Catholic, was in the audience and became so enraged upon hearing the song that he shouted from the audience, “How dare you make fun of my religion! I love my religion! I will die for my religion!" To which Lehrer responded, "That's fine with me, as long as you don't do it here."

Tom Lehrer is a once in a generation talent, the true embodiment of a Renaissance man. He was so far ahead of his time that his messages still hold true on an album recorded in 1965, a timeless masterpiece that is just as funny and sharp now as it was then  Have a listen to this and enjoy!

-         Kevin Powers

Tig Notaro as Interviewed by Jeff M. Albright

In celebration of Tig Notaro’s upcoming show at the Paramount Theatre on 11/9, local comedian and Twist and Shout employee Jeff M. Albright interviewed Tig for our Spork Blog.  Be sure to catch Tig Notaro during her 35 city nationwide Boyish Girl Interrupted Tour. 

Jeff M. Albright: What are some of your favorite memories from your time here in Denver, particularly your work with Tignation Promotions? 

Tig Notaro: So many great times in Denver. I actually started a "business" with one of your old employees, Dawn Greaney where we would consult local bands. We only had one client one time and after the "meeting", we realized we never decided what we charged for our "services." The "meeting" ended with us awkwardly asking for 20 bucks. I feel confident whoever that was that we met with did not go on to bigger and better things thanks to us. 

JA: Your comedy LP Live is considered by many to be one of the "instantly legendary" comedic sets of all-time. Do you feel the pressure to recreate that moment with every set or is it more of a moment in time that is unique unto itself? 

TN: A moment in time, no doubt.  I think the pressure I felt after that set, was more the pressure I typically will put on myself with creating a new hour of stand-up. There is no way I could possibly follow up that CD.

JA: The Denver comedy scene is experiencing a dramatic boom right now both state wide and nationally. Are there any comedians that are Denver based that you follow or would like to work with in the future? 

TN: Well, I have been friends with Nancy Norton forever at this point and I follow her like a hawk- even stay at her place from time to time. I love Nancy, but she's technically in Boulder. And you're right, Denver's scene does seem to be exploding. I'm having the most handsome and funny Andrew Orvedahl host my show and as a fun twist for the evening, my crazy talented poet pal Andrea Gibson will be the opener. Its gonna be a good time, no doubt.

JA: If you could give one piece of advice to a comedian who is in their first two years of stand-up comedy what would it be? 

TN: Get up on stage constantly. Like, now. You shouldn't even be reading this- you should be on stage.

JA: Being that we are a music store I would be remiss if I didn't ask you what are some of the bands/musicians that are currently on your playlist?

TN: Frightened Rabbit, Lucinda Williams, Wilco, Regina Spector and tons of others. 

I'd Love To Turn You On - At the Movies #31 - Duck Soup (1933, dir. Leo McCarey)

A lot of people dismiss the Marx Brothers as silly, dated slapstick along the lines of the Three Stooges, and that’s sad because they’re really a lot more sophisticated than that. It’s doubly sad because they’ve also been known to save lives. Most famously, Norman Cousins turned to old Marx Brothers’ films when he was diagnosed with an incurable a fatal spine disease and it helped him beat it. And Mickey Sachs, Woody Allen’s character in Hannah and Her Sisters, tried to kill himself but failed and stumbled into a movie theater where Duck Soup playing and realized that life isn’t so bad after all. That’s what got me into them. After seeing Allen’s film, I decided to set aside my prejudice and give them a try. They became not only instant favorites but my main go-to comedy when I was feeling stressed out and down. All through college and the early years of my career I could pop in a selection from my Marx Brothers collection and know that I would soon be transported to a better mood.

Sachs’s savior, Duck Soup, is as good a place as any to start exploring the Marx Brothers. Filled with still-poignant zingers about corruption and ineptitude in government, it’s especially well suited for these trying political times. In fact, it’s been hailed as a masterpiece because of the way it lampoons power through the ages and culminates with a deft comparison of war posturing to a minstrel show. It’s set in Freedonia, an English-speaking nation that’s beset with financial woes and is under siege from its neighboring nation, Sylvania. Freedonia’s wealthiest citizen, Mrs. Teasdale, agrees to bail the country out only if the sitting president steps down to be replaced by Rufus T. Firefly, who is played by Groucho. Sylvania’s conniving leader sends in two spies, played by Chico and Harpo, to undermine Firefly. And that’s pretty much all the premise necessary to set up the main plot; the whole point of this and all their other films is to get the three of them into a series of situations where they can riff on each other, perform brilliant sight gags and play surprisingly beautiful music.

Groucho and Chico are all about wordplay; their scenes with one another and with straight-faced supporting actors are machine-gun-fast pun-fests. I’d cut and paste some lines of dialogue here if it would do any justice to the real thing, but it just doesn’t. You have to see and hear it. It’s like music, and it’s often surreal, with logic and meaning continually unraveling and twisting back on itself and then coming back together again in rapid succession. This witty banter is balanced by peerless physical humor, much of it delivered by Harpo, who never talks. He has curly blonde hair and wears a big overcoat that he’s always reaching into and pulling out props that serve as punchlines to Groucho and Chico’s chatter. Duck Soup has perhaps the best sight gag in the entire Marx Brothers’ oeuvre: Harpo dresses up as Groucho and stands opposite him behind an empty mirror frame, matching his every movement so perfectly that you wouldn’t know it’s not a reflection were it not for a his breaking sync in a couple of instances, the most genius and weird being when they actually switch places.

And then there’s the music, which is for me where the ultimate healing power of the Marx Brothers shines through. Groucho usually sings a silly song that’s a melodic version of his monologues. In Duck Soup it’s “Just Wait Till I Get Through With It,” as in, “If you think this country’s bad off now...” Chico plays piano and Harpo the harp, both with an innocent beauty that gets me every time. When Chico plays, the camera focuses in on his fingers, which take on a life of their own, dancing and hopping around the keyboard like dancers. And Harpo’s harp playing is always angelic -- a delightful irony coming from the trio’s most slapstick prankster. And sure, just like everything else in these films, the music is dated. It’s the kind of stuff you’re likely to find on a scratchy old 78. But that’s a big part of what makes it work as a remedy for unhappiness: they transport you to a time and place that, true or not, seems more innocent and simple. And for me, that never fails to put my problems into perspective and allow them to dwindle away.

- Joe Miller