Posted 6:01 PM by Gene

The problem with music is it's become so compartmentalized lovers of one music can't talk to others, but instead pat one another's behinds in their own little club. We see it in the supremely hermetic group that combines the two deadly traits of musical "eclecticism" and obsessive record collecting. Such folk live at ubuweb, and their philosophy rings no more clearly than in The 365 Days Project from 2003, a precursor of -- ugh -- YouTube, a daily MP3 anthology of putatively oddball stuff and the musical equivalent of watching an auto accident. Think of it as low-tech's version of the cultural detritus vastly accumulating on the Web. It has the requisite annoying irony (and makes the usual fun of Christians, though the fun-makers mostly aren't to blame); these folk sent vintage advertising records to David Letterman and their ranks include the musical cultist Irwin Chusid, a DJ at a cute public-radio station that specializes in "eclectic" music and the producer of a Raymond Scott anthology (prompted by -- natch -- Ren and Stimpy, more irony). Most of these tracks seem to be here to goose some prices in Goldmine. There is one halfway-decent tune, though, a song familiar to many by its melody though no one knows the words: "Chicken Fat" is an exercise song commissioned for JFK's national physical fitness program, but it's not any exercise song: it's a stirring march by Meredith Willson ("Wilson", as the Chusidites must spell it, despite the presence of the record label) sung with a chorus by his Music Man Robert Preston. The song evidently got so vastly overexposed in gym classes the kids came to hate it; and a little Harold Hill goes a long way. Nonetheless it's still halfway-decent. It's the only halfway-decent tune. My first exposure was to an atrocious musical public-service announcement on syphilis sung by Tom Glazer (and co-written by him and Erik Barnouw -- the broadcast historian), thus setting a noxious tone. There's a taboo-busting excerpt from Earl Wilson Jr.'s tray lousay sex musical Let My People Come and Anthony Newley's unspeakable "Within You, Without You," from a 1977 Beatles TV special -- the only thing worse is Tony Randall's oily and false narration. There are screamings from industrial musicals and bland advertising jingles with a risible rock beat, there's Tammy Faye singing for the kiddies (not that bad), there are unsexy eyeball-rolling "stag" tunes, there are unfunny practical jokes from Mrs. Miller and some Herb Alpert impersonator, there are Fred Astaire and Myron Floren making disco asses of themselves, there is a godawful attempt at satire and folk music from some Goldwater supporters ("right-wing conservatives," as somebody named Grayer must call them -- isn't Chusid one?), there is that dry-your-eyes-and-hold-your-nose recitation "If Jesus Came to Your House" (sorry, Porter Wagoner's version is worse because it's sincere), and a bathetic tribute to George Wallace after he was shot. For all the opportunities there are few chuckles; this stuff is so bad and so dated it's depressing. There are two comedy classics here, though: Capt. Kirk's rendition of Lord Elton's "Rocket Man" (yes, for another seventies TV special) and, far far better, a tape of a high-dudgeonly Orson Welles blowing a voiceover assignment -- you don't want to think how far he fell. I recommend this site only on the proviso you thoroughly innoculate yourself with good music before -- and for a long time after.