Now that's a nice cover isn't it? Neat,
classy, understated and somehow (for me) a perfect summation of what these
budget albums are all about. And it's not just me; it was purloined wholesale
for RPM's 1994 compilation album of Reg Dwight's pre Elton John, budget
label session work too and it worked just as well there. So far so good then,
but seeing that this cover houses yet another compilation of
contemporary hits played on a Hammond organ then my heart sinks faster than an
old woman ducked as a witch.
Amusingly though, the album itself is savvy enough
to acknowledge my disinterest - from the back cover note; 'There are some people for whom the sound of a Hammond
organ means musical paradise on a grand scale, but for others it's just another
boring organ sound' - well I know which side of that particular
fence I stand on, but before I get all sniffy it puts me in my place again;
'But we're not concerned with the latter - although it might surprise them
to realise just how versatile the Hammond can be when it's well played, and is
matched with a selection of songs that bring out the best in it'. Well
Excuse Me I'm sure! It's not often that I'm ticked off by my own
records, but ok, I accept the challenge - show me just how versatile that
wretched organ is.
What we have here is a selection of pretty big hits
from the late sixties/early seventies (including seven number ones) played as
Hammond led instrumentals. What's unusual for this type of album though is that
there's a full band playing behind that organ that, for the most part anyway,
faithfully recreates the music of the original songs. At times unnervingly so -
hearing the familiar piano intro to 'Bridge Over Troubled Water' brought about a
Pavlovian expectation to hear Art Garfunkel's vocal kick in, but replacing it
with a raspy Hammond 'singing' the vocal line was as jarring and unnerving as
hearing the young Regan McNeil telling Father Karras that his mother sucks cocks
in hell. It's not what anyone would be expecting.
All the tracks continue in much the same vein; that
is, the usual backing with (despite the promise of that cover note) the Hammond
playing the main vocal melody with the same levels of versatility and variation
as you find in the colour of orange juice. What's
also slightly incongruous is that despite being billed as 'The Happy Hammond',
even a cursory glance at the line-up tells you that these are by no means all
'happy' songs and, ironically, the ones that are ('The Pushbike Song',
'Sugar Sugar' etc.) are slowed to a crawl and dropped to a lower key that sucks
out the joy like a vampire. So go figure. I could go on, but I'm sure you get
the picture and so I'll let the album itself have the last word: 'Instead just sit back and enjoy the dazzling sounds that
come from the Hammond organ and if, by the time this album is ended, you're not
among the happy band of people who like their pop music played in a lively and
different way, then we'll be very surprised!' No surprises as to which band
I don't belong to.
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