It's probably fairly safe to view the UK success of the The Mike Flowers lounge version of Oasis' "Wonderwall" as a small velveteen blip on the musical spectrum, but if you look out across the Internet you'll get a better feel for Capitol's having this stuff exhumed en masse. The lounge revival, now a couple of years into it's resurgence, probably has as much verve to it now as any other going music trend. With a pre-mapped style quotient that covers everything from clothes to jargon to what your preferred liquid confection of the evening might be, it's a pose that's easily adopted. There are apparently scores of urban hipsters coveting their parents retired cocktail shakers and aspiring towards the lost glamour of the Fellini heydey.
Initially, much of what it gathered here plays like a great hordes of over-skilled, under-payed jazz minstrels who did this sort of work to keep their gin reserves at an acceptable post-war level. Arrangements are string lush, vocalists croon and warble and the rhythm sections unearth every notional piece of percussion equipment to accentuate and provide some gimmicky distinction when things get bland.
But in its essence, these were all probably highly trained players that saw this as just another aspect of the working musicians livelihood. A fair number of the era's big names are assembled across this "first" set of six discs with perhaps a few notable exceptions (Lounge giant Esquivel is nowhere to be found). But for those who still have a fairly difficult time adjusting to the cheese factor, understanding that this is all about mood and atmospheres is more than half the trick. With deference to that, Capitol has tried (and on occasion succeeds) to group some of the material accordingly.
At its most pervasive, you could probably point out more lounge-ish tunes that you've hummed along endlessly than you'd care to admit. Combustible Edison produced a snappy version of the Bewitched theme, reminding you that this stuff is embedded way deep in our collective culture. So as you browse the tracks you'll hear things like the "The Theme from Our Man Flint" by Elliot Fisher on the Bachelor Pad Royale collection and draw an instant affinity to it. But as easy as you think this would be to compile, it seems like Capitol has erred more than once in how things were grouped that detract from the swank of the collective experience. For instance, it could be a licensing issue, but wouldn't you expect things like the Star Trek theme to show up on the Space Capades disc? And why do we have more than one version of "Fever" appear on separate discs? But what probably approximates the truth with these issues is that many of these tunes are fairly interchangeable given the right packaging. However, Capitol does get the right balance of swank and theme most of the time. Mambo Fever works overall with its layers of Farfrisa and sufficient Cha-cha-chas. Rhapsodesia edges to close to muzak frontier at times, but then again if the idea is that late night swoons from your lady fair, it's probably more digestible.
There's also a high pop content to contend with. The Dean Martins and Paul Ankas are wedged in here and there but don't necessarily detract from the plush goings on. At worst, those tracks simply may muddle one's conception of the period.
Apart from a evening's sustained immersion in one of the many clubs that now boast a lounge night, it might be difficult to gen up the right ambiance for these discs to achieve their due appreciation. Vibraphones only resound so well outside those particular environments. But for moments when you're trying one of the suggested concoctions conveniently laid out in the liner notes (although, Hot Wired's Virtual Blender is probably a better spot for recipes), you probably couldn't find a better accompanying musical backdrop. Beats a night of Pabst and an old Replacements album...
