Wednesday, 22 November 2017

Beatles Bach Bacharach Go Bossa: Arranged By Alan Moorhouse - Music For Pleasure 1971

'The music of George Harrison, John Lennon, Paul McCartney, Johann Sebastian Bach and Burt Bacahrach in Bossa Nova style': that cover note just about sums this up - what more do you need to know? What more is there to know? There's the obvious question as to 'why?', but I've asked that before and I know as far as these records go their lips are sealed. I could ponder if those B's were deliberately chosen for their pleasant alliteration, but does it matter any more than if it were 'Rammstein, Rachmaninov and Radiohead Go Reggae'? Not really. It is what it is. Ah well.
 
Mention 'Bossa Nova' to someone and like as not what comes to mind will be that girl from Ipanema and her jazzy, laid back samba soundtrack that epitomises the kind of blissed out summer most of us aspire to but few actually experience. It's what I think of anyway, but instead of delivering more of the same, arranger Alan Moorhouse takes some very broad brush Bossa Novas beat, laces them up in bovver boots and lets them clump out a backing track while a main melody is honked out over the top of it on a too loud, too busy by half saxophone. Laid back it is not.
 
Perhaps recognising that Bacharach's tunes lend themselves best to this approach, they make up five of the twelve tracks whilst Bach gets three, but in truth all sound much the same when they're set upon in this heavy handed, over egged manner. And fair play, with not one single nod to reverence, even Johann gets put through the same mangle as the rest of them with much the same outcome - that is, one that doesn't work too well and just ends up as awkward, stiff and uncomfortable as size ten feet in size eight shoes.  Being essentially ethic music, Bossa Nova works best when it's cooked up on its own terms and imbued with its own culture and tradition - trying to force other genres into its parameters can work with a bit of imagination, but imagination is in short supply on this thick gloop of novelty cultural tourism that reminds me less of a sun kissed day at the beach as the burned out husk of a pizza left in the oven for too long. Try as I might, I simply can't see any merit in any of this and fans of any of those B's are likely to feel equally let down by this one gimmick pony.

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