Before I became educated
about this guy, if you would have
told me that “Coconut” (you know,
put the lime in the____ and call me
in the morning), “Everybody’s Talking”
(at me, and I don’t hear a word they’re
saying), and (I can’t live, if living is
“Without You” were all songs written
by the same guy, I would have laughed
in your face. And here we are with the
proof in the pudding, the only album
of Harry Nilsson I have on vinyl, his
Greatest Hits. I’m not usually a fan of
compilation records, especially for
artists who are already well represented
in the collection, but there are
greatest hits records that stand out
in my history as being significant,
records that, at least as a kid, didn’t
feel like greatest hits records,
because to me all the tunes were new:
Steppenwolf’s Greatest, Mamas and
the Papas, the first greatest hits record from
Alice Cooper. Now, I find greatest hits
collections to be super handy in cases
like Nilsson’s–an artist who has made
huge contributions to the history of pop,
whose tunes represent a wide variety
of vibes and stylistic moves, whose hits
were truly great tunes, but whose
entire catalog might just not be ideal.
On this collection, every necessary
thing is here. Along with the aforementioned
classics, there’s “The Lord Must Be
In New York City,” the pop masterpiece theme
from the animated film, “Me and My Arrow,”
the 1971 hippy groove of “Jump Into the Fire,”
potentially the best and most melancholic
holiday song ever in “Remember Christmas,”
his performance of the 1931 jazz vocal standard
“As Time Goes By,” and the nutty juxtaposition
of jaunty pop music coupled with a lyric
about being depressed by the sunlight,
“Daybreak.” The only thing missing from this
collection in my estimation would be the tune
Nilsson contributed to the Monkees catalog:
“Cuddly Toy.” Otherwise, a nearly perfect
Greatest Hits record.
Notes on the vinyl edition: Nilsson/Greatest Hits, RCA Records, 1978, used copy of a demonstration only unit, pretty worn, a gift given to me by my friend Curtis some years ago now. If I ever found a copy of this record either new or lightly used, I think I might have to grab it. This one is playable–but not optimal.
In case you don’t already know: I’m listening to almost everything in my vinyl collection, A to Z, and writing at least one, sometimes two or three long skinny poem-like-things in response for each artist, and on a few occasions, writing a long skinny poem-like-thing in response to more than one artist. As a poet and a student of poetry, I understand that these things look like poems, but they don’t really sound much like poetry, hence, I call them “poem-like-things.” I’ll admit that they’re just long, skinny essays that veer every now and then into the poetic or lyric.
michael jarmer 