Dick Van Dyke’s Dance Party
(Epic)
by Chris Adams
These two albums are the first of a series concocted by Epic Records and Nick at Nite Cable Television. Their schtick is to put out CDs “inspired by classic television shows and the popular music those shows represent.” In other words, these two companies wanna cash in on the retro chic that’s being referenced all over our popular culture as of late (especially in advertising – probably the most definitive element of our pop culture). Regardless, the motivation doesn’t matter – what you deliver does. And these are two groovy CDs.
Dick Van Dyke’s Dance Party is intended to be the kinda album a swingin’ bachelor (with a good education, a solid day job and well-polished shoes) would throw on the hi-fi on Friday nights when he wants to kick back, loosen his tie, and, shortly before donning a lampshade, do the famed “white-guy dance” to (a dance which, incidentally, I long ago perfected and brought to new heights of profound dorktitude).
Naturally, the album’s gotta open with the theme from the Dick Van Dyke Show, which ain’t no great shakes, but it just gets better and better from there. OK, so the Isley Brothers‘ “Twist and Shout” ain’t nearly as wild and rockin’ as the Beatles’ version, but it’s operating on a whole ‘nother sphere, and on that level, it still grooves a lot better than it should, being sung, as it is, by the Smothers Brothers of soul. Then there’s The Strangeloves, one of America’s great mid-’60s novelty bands with “I Want Candy,” which became a cult hit when Bow Wow Wow re-did it back in ’83. (Incidentally, The Strangeloves angle was visual: “hip” goatees and black turtlenecks complemented by “wylde” and “primitive” tiger skin Fred Flintstone suits – and you thought the Count Five were groovy, neophyte.) Joey Dee and the Starlighters‘ “Peppermint Twist” is a classic ’60s dance song, best appreciated if you try to sing all the myriad vocal parts at once. Also included are “Locomotion” by Little Eva, whose voice is 10 times as sexy as Kylie Minogue’s on her cover, and “Tequila” by The Champs, a great instrumental loved far and wide by imbibers of said intoxicant and fans of that clownish Saturday morning geek [Pee Wee Herman] who jerked off in movie theaters during the off-season. The album also features The Drifters‘ “Save the Last Dance For Me,” but if you don’t already own that, you’re probably not reading this, because The Drifters are one of the greatest bands of all time, ever, and if you didn’t already have at least a “best of” record, you’re probably a Nine Inch Nails fan or something, and that shit’s just for maladjusted weenies who don’t understand words like “song” and “half-decent lyrics,” right? I mean, Reznor writes the kinda shit we all wrote when we were 17, and whenever we stumble across the notebooks, we cringe with reverberations that register on the Richter scale. He’s a silly, silly man.
Which segues us in no manner whatsoever to Donna Reed, whose …Dinner Party album is intended to be a record that mature young women would play as they served dinner in their fabulous New York apartments, until you two snuck off alone and fucked on the guests’ coats. It’s a lot mellower than the Van Dyke thing (back in the ’60s, women were still considered the “fairer sex,” as opposed to the rambling alternative the typist and copy editors have since edited out). Therefore, there’s a few more duff, whipped-cream-type sugar fluff songs that you’ve gotta deal with (good examples being “Chances Are” by perennial closet-case and hair disaster Johnny Mathis, and “My Dad” by Paul Peterson, who, from the sound of it, was the only man in existence with a pronounced case of Freudian penis envy). But there’s also Doris Day‘s subtle paean to fucking on the guests’ coats, “Que Sera Sera,” Andy Williams‘ “Moon River,” the perfect song to propose marriage or commit murder to, and a personal love ode to me, “Johnny Angel.” In short, these are two great novelty CDs that’ll make you curious to see what this interesting merger will produce.
