The most interesting feature of I Will Not Forget You is the front cover, which boasts a disturbing pencil sketch of a mal-proportioned, shifty-eyed Aryan child who appears to have his head grafted to a giant wooden hand. “See!” the caption exclaims, “I will not forget you. I have carved you on the palm of my hand.” The UMA doctors who grew a human ear on the back of a mouse have a lot of catching up to do.
On the musical front, I Will Not Forget You has long lasting side effects, including drowsiness and nausea. This is not music for the car. The lead vocals are forced and trembling. The strings are gentle, and the piano twinkly. The background vocals do little more than shadow the melody. If you close your eyes and picture yourself in church, you can almost hear the rhythm-impaired woman in the fourth pew humming along off key.
The worst sins this record commits are poetic. Reverend Carey Landry is personally responsible for producing hundreds of the bland Catholic hymns that help make Christianity so hard to relate to. The whole album has a vocabulary below 25 words. Its ultimate low point arrives four minutes into the five minute marathon Brother Jesus, when Landry invents his own verb, singing “Brother Jesus, you have lifed me, lifed me into life.” One is compelled to shun the record player and disavow all association with electricity and modern technology, possibly turning Amish to better eliminate exposure to this tasteless religious pudding. Fortunately this is the last track of the album and one’s nerves are soon soothed by the grating of the record needle against the edge of the paper label.
One measly star. Passionless as a virgin conception, this record is an exercise in abstract meaninglessness. It is to be avoided, even at the low, low price of $0.33.
The back cover of Mrs. Mills Non-Stop Honky-Tonk Party explains that “no party is ever complete without a sing-along.” It’s hard to believe that people ever had parties like this, especially as late as 1973. Perhaps in England, honky-tonk piano medleys were but another refuge for those wishing to avoid the early onset of the disco era.
The honky-tonk party truly is non-stop. The terms “relentless” and “pounding” come to mind. So does “headache.” The album consists of two fifteen minute tracks, blending such crowd-pleasing favourites as The daring young man on the flying trapeze, My Bonnie lies over the ocean, and, strangely, the Can-Can from Orpheus in the Underworld. The mood is upbeat throughout. Nothing, it would seem, can pierce the happy-go-jolly veneer of Mrs. Mills’ public persona. One does hear a whisper of the voices inside, however, when, halfway through the second track, she seamlessly blends What Shall We Do With The Drunken Sailor?into Amazing Grace.
To be fair, the record still holds purpose thirty years later. For instance, if you’re looking for background music for your indie mockumentary about English country nightlife in the 1920s, or if you’re hoping to become the least popular skater at ice dance practice, this may be the record for you. If you absolutely must not fall asleep because you’re waiting for an important phone call, this album will do the trick, although it won’t make the wait any more comfortable. And for those struggling to remember what 2/4 time sounds like, this album will remind you over and over again.
Who is this woman on the cover with the green dress and pig tails and the open-toed go-go boots? I try to imagine her dancing as she does, in her flailing, coquettish way, through the ten tracks on this album, but I can’t. When the first slowfox comes on, I see her tossing her beer in the bartender’s face and stomping out, complaining about the exploitation and the lousy pay.
She’s not the only one with cause for concern. This bizarre German attempt to make classical ballroom tempos and traditional folk songs sound hip and risqué commits brutal acts of musical sacrilege for the sake of attracting under-educated fans with deep pockets but no dignity. Here you can hear the music of Mozart, Glück and Schubert brutalized alongside the military folk song of the album’s title.
Believe it or not, this album is a classic. Hans Last changed his first name to James, entered the global market, and to date has released over 450 albums. His supporters credit him with “revolutionizing” the orchestra by introducing pop instruments like bass guitar, synthesizer and rock drums. Previous efforts to this one include Hammond à gogo, and Non-stop dancing ’66.
Although Ännchen von Tharau has no lyrics, the record has a certain ich weiß was nicht that still makes the choir sound German while singing simple oohs, ahhs and la-la-las throughout.
This album is a must-have, if only for its orange cover and wide-eyed glimpse into the Germany of the 1960’s. Try sneaking it into the mix at your next party, and watch the hilarity ensue. As an added bonus, used copies regularly retail online at the princely sum of 15 Euros, making this one a steal at $0.33 CDN.
Posted by Jill Murray on August 24, 2005
Tags: Music, Reviews
Comments on specific paragraphs:
Click the
icon to the right of a paragraph
Comments on the page as a whole:
Click the
icon to the right of the page title (works the same as paragraphs)