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Live Recordings by
Stan Freberg!
Critic's Review
Lindsay Planer, All Music Guide
This multimedia disc from EMI U.K.'s stellar Empire Comedy Series includes 16 of Stan Freberg's best-known and loved sides during his tenure on Capitol Records in the 1950s. Freberg also hosted his own short-lived comedy show on CBS Radio. He took the prime-time slot from Jack Benny, who had successfully made the transition to the burgeoning medium of television. A majority of the material on Live Recordings (2004) may lead potential consumers to presume that the contents are gleaned from a concert performance. However, they are actually from Freberg's studio recordings. As a satirist, Freberg stands alone. His often skewed observations are dead-on, especially those that deal with pop and early rock. No genre or artist is sacred -- the bigger they are, the harder Freberg leans in for the lampoon. He tortures icons such as Mitch Miller ("The Yellow Rose of Texas"), Eartha Kitt ("C'est Si Bon"), Lawrence Welk ("Wun'erful Wun'erful") and Harry Belafonte ("Banana Boat (Day-O)"). The most ample targets were found in the 'fad' of rock & roll, as proven on the muffin-mouthed "Sh-Boom (Life Could Be a Dream)," "Rock Island Line"'s skiffle spoof and the absolutely hilarious (because it's true) interpretations of "Heartbreak Hotel," as well as the bop-meets-pop confrontation behind the microphones on "Great Pretender." Musically, these tracks are ably aided by conductor and arranger Billy May, whose day job was scoring for the likes of Frank Sinatra and Peggy Lee. He returned to work with Freberg in 1996 on Presents the United States of America, Vol. 2. Freberg takes a few apropos pokes at the boob tube on "St. George and the Dragonet" and "Little Blue Riding Hood," which were inspired by Jack Webb's deadpan delivery of hard-nosed copper Jack Friday on Dragnet. The original song "Tele-Vee-Shun" is a treat, with Freberg claiming to have gotten "weak in the eyes, weak in the head likewise from sitting and looking at Tele-Vee-Shun." The collection concludes with a pair of harder-to-find platters, "The Old Payola Roll Blues" and the sad-but-true "Green Christmas," whose title pretty much says it all.