After this mornings disaster of a workout (in my mind only) it’s time for a little “Daddy-Daughter Time” by indulging in a little record shopping at the St. Catharines Record fair. And, as it turns out, the kiddo loves her Cornball records as much as I do as this ‘Sing a Song of Sickness‘ by the Crown City Four would indicate. And, no, I had absolutely no influence over this purchase whatsoever.
We found this in a cardboard box labeled “Weird Shit”. And, well, yes it is. I mean, just look at the cover with a couple of creepy beatnik-types gazing lovingly over a giant pie as a small colony of bats erupt from the pastry into the evil-scientist-like lab settings. Add to this the title of ‘Sing a Song of Sickness‘ and, well, it just HAD to be disturbing; seriously, how could you look at this cover and not be intrigued? So many questions: what are their intentions? Why is the pie crust seemingly liquid? Why is the boy gnawing on the table? What the fuck? Then you flip it over and there’s a caricature of four clean-cut smiling lads’ heads caught in a swirl of musical notes, and their group name going by The Crown City Four. What the hell is this?
As it turns out, it’s barbershop-quartet music. Now, in case you’re unfamiliar with what the hell barbershop quartet music is, it’s quite obviously four guys singing. And they have a closely dynamic harmonic range, baritone to tenor, or however deep-to-high voices are done up, and it’s usually acapella, but these boys have the instruments going sometimes. And not just boys. Two tracks have a female solo vocalist, the funnier track being ‘I Saw Adolph Today’, the tale of a woman seeing the nefarious dictator working behind the counter of a Jewish deli after falling on hard times. Yes, it’s all pretty much black humor dressed up in wholesome-sounding B-shop-Q flavors, and it works for the most part, especially if you know what the hell they’re singing about which, HRH doesn’t…but she hardly cares.
There are tracks that deal with drug use , racial prejudice, Communism, War, Matricide, Slum Clearance and Capitol Punishment. Now, before you go and label me as a “Bad Dad”, recognize that all the songs are tongue -in-cheek enough that their true meaning is kind of lost on HRH‘s youthful innocence but, that’s not stopping her from marching around the basement (to a song entitled ‘The Annual Get-Together (of the the KKK and NAACP)‘ no less) because it reminds her of “circus marching music”. Hell, you can call me whatever you want – this shit is gold!
As far as I’m concerned, this is parenting done right.