Nightman Listens To – My Fair Lady – Original Broadway Cast (Top 1000 Albums Series)

Oh, dear Lord, no. This is one giant WTF and should not be on a Top 1000 Albums list. Yes, yes, I haven’t heard it yet, but I already know what it’s going to sound like. I’ve seen the movie, hell, I even kind of like the movie. But musicals, in general, suck balls while simultaneously sucking the life out of me. Musicals… you’re lucky if you get two or three good songs, usually at least one centrepiece. My Fair Lady, as far as movie musicals go, has a few songs which the general public will know even if they haven’t seen the movie, but none of the songs are outstanding. Lets just get this over with.

What Do I Know About My Fair Lady: Musical, based off book, which later became a hit movie. Audrey Hepburn is awesome. She’s not here though.

Overture: It’s frantic and fast. It’s a textbook overture. You already know what you’re getting here. There’s about four seconds here to differentiate it from any other musical.

Why Can’t The English: Ridiculous talky singy. There’s only person who should be murdered here, and it’s YOU. This is just an embarrassment for all concerned. Fine in a film musical – pure torment in literally any other form.

Wouldn’t It Be Loverly: Starts horrifically. Gets gradually worse. At least this one has a memorable main line. The backing vocals are shocking. Some of Julie Andrews’ notes are ear cancer too.

With A Little Bit Of Luck: One of the things I hate most about musicals is singing with forced accents. Which means I’m basically buggered where this album is concerned. It’s so false and theatrical – I want my music, in most cases, to be honest, not acting. Of course, this is a musical so I get it’s meant to be the other way around – but as I’m listening with no visuals it just doesn’t work. The song needs to be extraordinary to get its point across. This is tripe. As far as accents go, Cockney is near the top of the list of ones I can’t abide. YOU SOUND LIKE A COCK.

I’m An Ordinary Man: More talking. I don’t care. You may as well be describing the peristalsis which occurs in your anus as your squeeze one through. Posh rapping. Women, eh, amirite? You’d prefer the Spanish Inquisition to letting a woman into your life? Hardy har. I’d prefer you and everyone you’ve ever met being skinned and set on fire than listen to this for another millisecond.

Just You Wait: Oh fuck off.

The Rain In Spain: Abortion.

I Could Have Danced All Night: I don’t mind the ‘chorus’ of this one. All else is pain and two minutes too long.

Ascot Gavotte: Noises. Marching. Then the singing starts and we all wish we were dead.

On The Street Where You Live: This one would be fine without the terrible vocals.

You Did It: Nice flutey opening descends into farce. And not good farce. The sort of farce where you’re trying to get somewhere on time but you can’t find your keys, then the car won’t start, then you get stuck behind eight cyclists who CYCLE IN A GROUP BESIDE THE FUCKING CYCLE LANE, then you get by them only to meet a tractor, before an ISIS appears in the backseat and beheads you.

Show Me: More travesties.

Get Me To The Church: Nope.

A Hymn To Him: Unlistenable.

Without You: Every single song and every single vocal delivery is identical.

I’ve Grown Accustomed To Her Face: Starts with ridiculous aplomb. It’s all words words words spoken in the same dumb way. Once we finally get to the ‘good’ bit it’s too little too late.

What Did I Learn: I’m fairly competent that several thousands brain cells died while listening to this.

Does It Deserve Its Place In The Top 1000 Albums Of All Time: Are you seriously asking me that with a straight face? Every copy of this wank should be wiped from existence.

Colin Larkin’s Ranking: 559.

Yeah, don’t even comment. In fact, forget I even mentioned it.

Vivar Lars Vergarse!

I understand that Elvis used to be some sort of big shot musician and singer a hundred years ago, and that he branched out into films like all pop stars inevitably do. Now I like my music heavy and hard, like a Wooly Mammoth having a boxing match with a T-Rex, and instead of gloves on their fists they have Blue Whales. Faster than a flock of sparrows down a toilet, tougher than a man made of cacti, like chewing diamonds with teeth made of dynamite. Of course I know who Elvis is and or was, and I understand that the progression of rock and metal music may as well have started with him. He stole it from the blues and made it popular, Chuck Berry, L’il Rick gave it a rougher sexy edge, The Beatles made it smarter and more experimental, then Zep, Prog, Punk, NWOBHM, and grunge all shaped later sounds. However, going back all those steps and Elvis music is about as rockin as a one legged mouse with no legs. Some of the songs are good, but they really should have included Stairway.

The plot follows Elvis to the village of Vargas. There he meets a witch whom he conquers with the power of his thighs and quivering upper lip. ‘Mmrrhm umma gonna bust yourhmm up good ma’am’m’ he quips. After this she grants him one wish. Being a good fella he sees that the village is impoverished beyond belief and wishes that the village become a great city and that he is its ‘King’. We then flash forward several hundred years to the new city of Las Vegas where Vargas once stood. His wish has come true- the city is huge, everyone who lives there is rich and successful, people come from all over the world to visit it, and he is The King. He isn’t happy however, being a thousand year old immortal perpetually stuck in the body of 1950s greaser. He has everything he could possibly want- money, love, fame, success- everything except love. He carries the soul of the old witch in his crotch and has the power to make one final wish- he wishes for the love of a good woman. There is one catch though- if he does this he will have to give up all his wealth. He does this, and along comes a woman (played by Olivia Newton Prestly). He has to win her love by winning a series of car races and by proving that money isn’t important. Throw into this a few songs about gambling, prostitution, and Joe Pesci, and we have one of the first classic musicals.

I hate musicals. Everyone’s sitting there talking or racing, and suddenly they burst into song!!? When does that ever happen in real life!? I want to see films where army men shoot down helicopters with machetes, where robots that shoot lasers out of their various holes try to kill us all, where ninjas have to stop hordes of zombies and people have their insides eaten and thrown about the room like shoes in an OLAP cube. On the good side, I did find myself tapping my feet at a few of the songs and cheering when Elvis won a race. Now that I think about it, it is a great film. Buy it now!

Best Scene: When Priestley is racing a man in a black helmet towards the finish line, but he shoots some staples out of his car (Maxi Power) which blow up the tyres of the bad guy and send him spinning off the track in a hellish ball of terror and flames into a crowd of innocent bystanders. I thought the fact that he was singing ‘Are Ye Lonesome Tonight’ was a tad inappropriate though.