I preordered it. I preorder a set number of things, because I'm a creature of habit and eternally hopeful. I can be incredibly picky about what I read or listen to - and when something 'hits' - it usually leaves a mark. One that makes me preorder the next thing. And the thing after that.
That's a very short and insufficient reason why I have nearly everything Barry Manilow ever released. I have a friend who goes back even further than I do who had the foreign language stuff - everything sung phonetically, you can imagine (Copacapana on a 16" in Spanish, sung phonetically, come on) among other things - so I at least know my deficits. So to speak. Somehow, this is one of those things that just happened while I wasn't paying attention.
Oh, that's nice. So, you buy it and preorder the next thing.
A little after the turn of the century, I started getting slapped around. Concord Records stopped releasing, Arista came back and wanted to make money and the karaoke albums came - one decade after another.
Let me tell you something. You learn patience this way. You also learn the configuration of the underside of your desk, because you spend a heck of a lot of time there hiding in shame. Well. Earned. Shame.
Quickly - the Fifties album? Frisbee. The Sixties album? Download the nicest little turn on two Association tunes I've ever heard -
JUST THAT ONE - off iTunes or Amazon. 'Strangers in the Night' is a carryover from the Sinatra album (
yes, there is one) BUY IT. It's amazing. The Seventies album? This one had a disc of bonus material that made it worth the trip - but now, you can't get it. An acoustic version of Copacapana that sounds completely different (and this one has been re-mixed to death, can you blame them?) - guitars and drums and pure hammered awesome. A remix of 'Could It Be Magic' worth the trip. But now you can't get it. The actual disc? Frisbee. The Eighties album? Well, being Manirolled is fun, I guess. The rest? FRISBEE.
Those four albums are testament to the adage 'perfect is BORING.' Because? You can hear every syllable, notes are consistent and the arrangements are adequate. You can almost hear the plodding through the traces to another sold out hit.
And then they started re-releasing material on 'new' collections. There's one of duets, one for love songs. Holy chrome,
I've already BOUGHT it. You really begin to wonder if 'hit' means you're about to get slapped upside the head again.
'Here At The Mayflower' was such an incredible album - but that's almost ten years ago now. (Buy the UK version and anything that says Bonus Disk? You want that too.) There's the commute album - a musical novel - the podcast without dialog. The story of a building where people live. And die. Hide from their pasts, long for love, escape from themselves while the music plays. It's also witty, funny as hell and I bought it at least four times. Do not expect to hear this on tour - it's not the kind of thing that plays to a stadium.
I so wanted another one like it. Instead, I have to suck it up for another Unchained Melody.
That shit's over.
Guess what I got yesterday - and as of today, so can everyone else.
15 Minutes is out. And it got the drive in treatment via iPod this morning. I am absolutely gobsmacked.
Barry Manilow has filked the whole music business. And pulled no punches.
First of all, I've been having a wonderful run of luck with cover albums, songs I didn't write. I had five pop cover albums and two Christmas albums, and they were all very successful. But I did miss writing. So I looked around, and what I saw was a lot of young people becoming famous very quickly, overnight. I've done three "American Idols," and it was an amazing thing to watch these young talented people becoming household names within months. And I remember when I got hit with it, with "Mandy," that I was an adult. And yet when "Mandy" hit, it knocked me for a loop. It turned me into a person I didn't like.So what does this guy do? Writes a whole album about it.
Thought I would hate it. Thought I would be bored senseless by it. Thought it wouldn't apply or resonate.
I was singing at the top of my lungs before I reached the office.
Here's another commute album. A podcast without narration. The musical with no stage required. I don't know anything else out there right now like it.
It's the album for us old farts who are dead tired of hearing it one more time and have more years on us - we appreciate music that speaks to those years, believe me. They didn't pass in a vacuum - it's not just the story of the beginning and 'getting over' - no, this is more. What happens after, and after that.
And all of it important, valid and critical - worthy of telling, both as a warning and a tribute.
I don't think I've ever heard anything quite as creepy as 'Letter From A Fan / So Heavy, So High' - yup, a Manilow song that incorporates fan mail. Amaaaazing.
It IS love songs. No, it's NOT. It's huge playing to the stands - no, not exactly.
Ghad, look at the album design. Not a picture to be found. AWESOME.
It's also a direct sale, too. Arista? Not in the picture, but it's clear this is the record Manilow
wanted to make, as much as he wanted Mayflower. Nope, don't have to please anyone - so this one's for you, guys.
Love isn't always kind, you know. And while you are working towards Your Dream - don't forget to hang on to what lasts, and what's really important. Words from a friend.
I am so insanely proud right now. And saying good-bye to the underside of my desk.
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