It’s a funny thing: in general, I’m not much of a fan of
musical novelty acts. Not because I
think the form is sacred and that comedy defiles it or some such pretentious
twaddle, but because most of them are either not musical enough, not funny
enough, or both. In the seven-or-so
years since I first bought one of his albums on a New Year's Eve whim, Richard
Cheese has been the exception to this rule for me: he is both exceptionally
funny and surprisingly musical, not to mention far less of a one-note joke than
you’d ever imagine.
A Lounge Supreme, Mr.
Cheese’s ninth studio album, finds the shtick of the World’s Loudest Lounge
Singer far from dried out. If you’re not
familiar with his work, the concept is relatively simple: imagine Bill Murray’s
classic Saturday Night Live lounge
lizard character taken to its logical conclusion. Mr. Cheese renders pop and rock songs as
written, all lyrics intact in his inimitable, loungin’ style. Often, this allows the jokes to make
themselves: the infamous “fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me” chorus of Rage
Against the Machine’s “Killing in the Name” sounds suitably idiotic and
bombastic when delivered in a style suggestive of Frank Sinatra having been
told he was cut off a bit too long before last call for his liking. A simple scan of the track list illuminates
some easy highlights: garbage like “Friday” or “Boom Boom Pow” is seemingly tailor
made for the Cheese treatment, and how on earth did it take him more than a
decade to get around to “Margaritaville”?
The highlight, as usual, is somewhat unexpected: while Mr. Cheese’s new “Birthday
Song” may not exactly be the greatest composition in the history of music, his
lengthy, spoken explanation on how he came to write it is laugh-out-loud
funny. As for the Scorpions cover, or
the Fred Schneider guest spot, well, I’ll let you discover the charms of those
for yourselves. As usual, all of these
antics are delivered with pin-point precision: Mr. Cheese’s vocals and
characterizations are spot-on, and his musicians’ playing and arrangements are
typically careful and crafty, rendering the proceedings doubly funny by being
of such a high standard.
Now for the morality play: I implore you, dear readers, to
back away from the search box on your torrent tracker of choice and instead lay
down some of your hard-earned for this one.
Usually, I’m not one to get on any kind of high horse about
downloading. Page back through this
blog: more than once, I’ve flippantly started to write something like “downloaded
from Demonoid” and sarcastically interrupted it with some variation on “I mean,
bought at my local record store that certainly didn’t close five years
ago.” I’ll stand behind that bit of
snark, too: I’ve no problem with no longer paying for music that turns out to not
really be worth the price of admission once I’ve heard it. Similarly, I’ve no problem ignoring the whining of
rock stars that have already collected enough money: if Bono never gets another
cent from me, somehow I think that both he and I will sleep just fine
regardless.
So why stop the buck for this one? Two reasons, actually. Firstly, it can’t exactly be amazingly
profitable to be Richard Cheese. Without
knowing the exact economics of it all, I’d imagine that a good chunk of any
profits from record sales, physical or digital, fly immediately out his window
simply because he is predominantly a covers artist, and thus must pay
publishing royalties to those who wrote the songs he performs rather than
keeping the whole album-sales bounty for himself. Beyond that, I’m sure that illegal
downloading has hit Mr. Cheese harder than most, simply because of the
“novelty” aspect of what he does.
Doubtlessly, more than one person has thought something along the lines
of “well, it’s only comedy, so I’ll just download it instead.” The inherent wrong-ness of that statement
brings us to the second reason to pay Mr. Cheese his due: he consistently
releases quality products. Concepts like
“novelty” and “comedy” be damned: the amount of time and craft that goes into
the track selections and arrangements on an average Richard Cheese album are
obvious to anyone willing to listen at all carefully to the finished product,
and certainly comparable – and often superior – to what goes into making a
“serious” album. Personally, I’ve no
compunction with keeping my wallet in my pocket when it comes to mediocrity,
but I remain ready and willing to pay for quality. Quality comedy is no exception to that rule.
Only a limited amount of A
Lounge Supreme CDs were pressed; if you’re lucky, there’s still a few left
to be had over at Mr. Cheese’s Lounge Mart.
The packaging, a six-panel digipak complete with an 8-page booklet, is
beautifully designed and will look great either on your shelf or under your
martini glass. The music itself, be it
on disc or legal download, will pull you in with the belly laughs and keep you
coming back for the toe-tapping. What
more can you ask from your entertainment dollar, really?
That address again: www.loungemart.com
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