The American Song-Poem Anthology

The American Song-Poem Anthology

Of all the scams spewed forth by the music industry, none is more endearing than the "song-poem." Although the scam originated with sheet music publishing, song-poems were written by aspiring songwriters of the Sixties and Seventies who responded to tabloid ads requesting songs and poems for recording consideration. If the recording company "accepted" your song, they recorded it -- once you sent them a fat check. The practice was nicknamed "song-sharking." The American Song-Poem Anthology showcases the archeology of NRBQ drummer Tom Ardolino and other scavengers who sifted through thrift stores and estate sales for years to bring you the best song-poem music currently known to man. While none of these 28 selections could've cracked the Top 40, it's magical how randomness, irony, and flashes of unrefined talent come together here to create genuinely memorable tunes you hum in spite of yourself. Louise J. Oliver's "Do You Know the Difference Between Big Wood and Brush" is an awkward-yet-vivid metaphor illustrating why men return to their wives after cheating. Other song-poems address historic events like the moon landing ("The Moon Men") and the Carter presidency ("Jimmy Carter Says 'Yes'"). Plenty of great moments come from Rodd Keith (1937-1974), the versatile composer/musician/singer renowned as the "king" of song-poem music. While his "How Can a Man Overcome His Heartbroken Pain" is pure pop for the comb-over crowd, "Beat of the Traps" is a pounding, free jazz freak-out. Finally, there's "A Blind Man's Penis," which resulted from musician/prankster John Trubee sending in the vilest, most random lyrics he could muster (i.e., "Warts love my nipples because they are pink; vomit on me baby, yeah, yeah, yeah"). Set to generic country music and sung with inappropriate reverence by Ramsey Kearney, the song becomes eerily beautiful. This anthology is a field guide to a bizarre universe in which a low-rent hustle actually creates enduring works of art. Lord knows what Louise J. Oliver would think of that.