albums
Watergate Comedy Hour
Jab Productions
Copyright 1973
For those of you with a couple extra bucks heading towards the
record store with a liking for the unusual, you might want to be aware
of a combination of sketches relating to a situation which has come to
be known as the “Watergate Affair.” Then again you may wish to
make a protective reaction maneuver upon the Watergate Comedy
Hour Album.
In association with Jab Productions are the “Watergate Seven”
who, in the guise of Ron Ziegler (Jack Bums), Pat Nixon (Ann Elder),
Martha Mitchell (Fannie Flagg), God (Avery Schreiber) and Nixon
(Frank Welder) offer some good impersonations despite the trans
parancies of their scripts. The transparancies could have been
solidified had the producers taken the time. As it was, the album was
cut on May 8, 1973, mixed, edited and on the market little after mid
V May. The Senate hearings didn't commence until May 17 and if Jab
Productions can work fast we may yet have sequels to the Watergate
Comedy Hour or, “News on Record.” Thus, it takes an exploitation to
know an exploitationist.
Jab Productions naturally takes to the punch-line George Burns,
Gracie Allen gag-type comedy. It jabs yes, but not so piercingly as to
laud upon themselves, as they have done, the term “satire”. Parody
yes, satire no.
Fannie Flagg, however, as Martha Mitchell is source to some
amusing observations while speaking to the UPI by telephone:
“Hey . . . UPI? this is Martha . . . that you Helen? Talked to Pat
lately? . . neither have I. You know I haven’t talked to her in a coon’s
age. Well, you know she appears cranky, irritable and frankly comes
over as one uptight broad ... (pause) Well all I can tell you is that if
her husband gave her some of what he’s been giving the rest of the
country she’d be a whole lot happier ...! ”
Indeed Martha! But remember “that the strongest steel must go
through the hottest flames,” and if King Richard got too close to Pat
she might melt.
Appearing on the Dick Cavett Show skit, Martha tells why she was
let out of the bathroom after being locked there for ten months.
Cavett: Well how did you get out?
Martha: Goodness! John finally had to use it, bless his heart.
Martha comes across Clay-like (Cassisus) in her efforts to castrate
Nixon and defend her John who, when you get him alone is “really
quite a cutup.” Martha you’re beautiful—and good too.
Alleged conspirator, ex-CIA, FBI, commie pinko hippie hating
flag-waving Nixon loyalist, James McCord, is played by Jack Burns.
Burns replaced “Barney” (Don Knotts) intheT.V. show “Mayberry.”
Burns is good, but when given material like:
Juan?
Which Juan?
I’m Juan, you’re Juan too . . .
reminds me of deadpan Jerry Lewis.
Frank Welker, as our villianous first citizen, has transmitted the
essence of Nixon’s public personality but not, however, to the chagrin
of David Frye. The remaining cast just don’t cut it.
Listening through the stylistic constipation of the Watergate
Comedy Hour Album is like watching a professional wrestling match.
Lots of grunts and groans—but no substance. Characteristically, as
the break-in at the Watergate complex begins, Juan asks McCord how
he knows if they’re breaking into the right door. They must be—“it
opens on the left.” That left me.
Finally, the motivation behind the album reminds me of an old
Biblical story about Abraham who begat Jackson, who begat Franklin
(who wasn’t even a president), who begat Grant, who begat Jab
Productions—the creators of this lousy album ...
Bill Beckwith
“Penguin”
Fleetwood Mac
MS2I3*
Copyright 1973
In the almost 20 years since rock and roll was born, an awful lot of
music has been written, performed, recorded and packaged under the
premise that there is a healthy differentiation between cool and un
cool.
The premise, of course, if flexible enough to bend with the times,
and, hence, our continuous acquaintance with fads. Pop music is
traditionally tied to the whole “in” syndrome. In fact, it thrives on it.
Fleetwood Mac’s new album, “Penguin,” is a good example of
what things might be like without this infatuation with what’s neat and
what isn’t. It’s a refreshing album, full of breezy, unpretentious
music, music seemingly unaware of itself.
Everything on it — each instrument, each voice — foregoes any
opportunity to stick out, in favor of a higher goal, that of contributing
to the total group and the total song. And those temptations surely
must be strong — the caliber of skills is high, especially those of Mick
Fleetwood (drums), John McVie (bass), and Bob Weston (guitar).
Of the album’s nine cuts, only one is not an original Fleetwood
Mac tune. That is Jr. Walker’s oldy “Road Runner.” It, like all the
selections, is vigorous and clean, a pleasant escape from heaviness.
All the songs are unobtrusive. They don’t require intense at
lention. You don't need to get into them — they’ll get into you, in much
the same way Moby Grape’s early material did.
“Penguin” will probably never be a rock classic (in the sense that
“Sgt. Pepper” or “Tapestry” or “Wheels of Fire” are classics). It
doesn’t try hard enough. It’s not cool. It’s simply there, and it s ex
cellent listening.
Mikel Kelly
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