Here’s a new project of mine – Ewokpedia. It’s a 100% accurate resource on all things Star Wars, except that absolutely everything is wrong.
It’s a parody of Wookiepedia, dreamed up by a few of us over on the Something Awful forums.
Why does this album even exit? Did somebody listen to Ethel Merman’s early recordings of “Alexander’s Ragtime Band” and realize that what it really needed was more funk? When some record producer was looking for the next big name in disco, why did he come up with a geriatric Broadway warbler decades past her prime? That’s like Dr. Dre looking for the next big name in hip-hop and settling on Olivia Newton-John. I realize that disco was popular at the time (1979), and that pretty much everyone was caught up in the craze (including the Rolling goddamn Stones), but Merman was pushing 71 when she recorded this, and the result is exactly what you’d expect of a geriatric Broadway singer belting out Broadway tunes to a generic thumping disco beat. It’s something no self-respecting clubgoer of the day would be caught dead dancing to, which is mighty impressive considering that this was a scene where people would enthusiastically strut to Barry Manilow.
The first of this album’s many, many problems is that Merman sings the songs as if they’re being scored to their original Broadway music. They aren’t, meaning that Merman’s tone and timing usually have no relation whatsoever to the music she’s singing over top of. The horrors of this will become more obvious once I get down to reviewing the tracks, but first I want to take a closer look at the utterly inexplicable album cover:
Click on it to see it in horrifying detail. The mirrors and lasers can be explained away by the fact that it was the dawn of the 1980’s, but there’s so much more wrong with it than that. First off, what the hell is with the mysterious off-camera fedora guy? Is he tipping his hat to an icon, yet too ashamed to show us his face? Even stranger, Merman herself has been poorly pasted in, and in a position that makes her look tiny-gimp-armed, hideously obese cross between Jabba the Hutt and Dame Edna.
It’s uncanny.
There comes a time when reviewing bad music when you actually have to listen to the damn thing, and I think I’ve put that off as long as possible. Here, then, are my track-by-track thoughts on all seven cuts:
The song opens to what sounds like the theme music to a 1970′ low-budget action-packed cop show. Merman quickly comes in and starts barking her lines to the beat in a way that in no way fits in with the actual music. She alternates between yelling her lines and dragging them out, complimented by hooting and cheering background singers, opening the album in a fittingly horrifying fashion.
Rating: 2/5 Wailing Banshees 
This track moves on from the cop show sound of the previous song, and now resembles the theme song to a 1980’s game show. Merman’s barely on this track, which is mainly an instrumental. I’m not entirely sure if that’s a pro or a con – having less of Merman’s bizarrely warbling vocals is a nice change, but the music underneath is horrendous and goes on and on for an agonizing six minutes.
Rating: 2/5 Shiny Disco Balls 
Is it my imagination, or are Merman’s vocals getting quieter and quieter on each consecutive track? It’s impossible to make out what she’s singing on this one except for a shouted “You!” at the end of each chorus. “Mumble mumble mumble you!” Maybe it’s the engineer trying desperately to save the album in any way he can.
Rating: 1/5 Travoltas 
This track opens with a piercing whistle. Never a good sign. Merman comes in what can only be described as rapping, complimented by similarly rapping background singers. She eventually starts singing, and her rendition of the title phrase has to be heard to be believed. Not only does her off-key warbling reach a new low here, but hearing a 71 year old woman singing about staying out late and doing things for the boys is enough to make even the most masculine man curl up into a ball and weep. This is easily the fruitiest thing I’ve ever heard, and I once went to a birthday party at a gay bar during karaoke night.
Rating: 2/5 Really, Really Fruity Disco Balls 
This is the filler track of the album. The music is bland, generic and completely forgettable, and I can’t think of a single thing to mention about barely-there vocals. However, it’s the only track so far the hasn’t made me want to paint the walls with my brains, which makes it the best track by far.
Rating: 3/5 Brothers Gibb 
This one sounds like a big band number. It’s starts in a promising fashion that makes you think it might not actually suck, but unfortunately Merman comes in and quickly dashes those hopes. The cheese is layered thick on this one, combining a brass section, a funky baseline, and a chorus of background singers inviting you to come here “Alexander’s Ragtime Band Band Band!”
Rating: 3/5 Lines of Blow 
Oh my god, it’s a ballad! The first minute is, at least, until Merman completes the first chorus. Then she draws out “Who could ask for anything moooooore?” as a funky drumbeat kicks in and the background singers tell us that “I’ve got rhythm, rhythm’s got me” over and over again, slowly rising in pitch until they sound like they’re in considerable pain. Then the big band from the last song kicks back in while Merman goes back to barking out her lines like she did in the first track. Oh shit, we’re back where we started! Eject, eject!
Rating: 2/5 Ethereal Fedoras 
Conclusion: This is just painful. Not worth owning for any reason aside from the hysterically awful cover. The actual contents of the album are completely unlistenable, and more than destroy whatever kitch value the concept of the album has.
