December 12–19, 1996

book quarterly|record guide

Goldmine Comedy Record Price Guide

By Ronald L. Smith, Krause Publications, 400 p., $22.95

The Rolling Stone Record Guide once included a number of reviews of comedy LPs, but the most recent revision eliminated all but two or three. Movie buffs have paperbacks by Maltin and Ebert to rate films. Who have comedy junkies been able to turn to?

Ronald L. Smith has come to the rescue with a meticulously researched and accessible guide to comedy albums. He includes blurbs on just about every comedy LP, rates them on a four-star scale and includes two prices for each album — for standard thrift stores and pricier used record stores. There's also a handy section in the back with Grammy nominees and winners for best comedy albums and other trivia tidbits. One complaint, though; Smith doesn't always provide the year of album release.

By necessity, most of Smith's reviews focus on the wealth of comedy LPs from 1960 to 1965, when popular comedy albums regularly went gold. Bob Newhart's first album was no. 1 on the charts for 14 weeks in 1960. The big comedy LP of the era, and one of the biggest selling of all time, was by a now-forgotten mimic named Vaughn Meader, whose First Family album gently spoofed JFK and Jackie in the White House. Meader's career pretty much ended at Dealey Plaza in Dallas; Lenny Bruce opened his monologue on Nov. 22, 1963 with "Vaughn Meader is screwed." The invasion of the Beatles (who themselves were pretty funny) ensured the popularity of rock music, driving all non-rock related albums, and especially comedy, from dominance.

Smith brings much-needed historical perspective to the book. Not only does he analyze the rise and fall of Allan ("Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah") Sherman, he thoughtfully includes a list of every comedy album titled My Son, the... recorded in the wake of Sherman's success (including three separate My Son, the President albums). Smith's savvy enough to catch Don Adams doing a bit on one of his records lifted verbatim from a Jackie Mason routine. He also describes how Lenny Bruce's "scandalous" material was handled by nervous record executives, and offers insight on the "party" albums of Belle Barth and Pearl Williams.

Smith can be merciless in panning LPs he doesn't cotton to (he's curiously hostile toward anyone from public radio or with a liberal bent). He slams the cover of Adam Sandler's What the Hell Happened to Me: "(I)t's about time there was a moratorium on photos wistfully showing comedians as bright-eyed kids, implying that they weren't any less obnoxious, pushy, or troublesome before the onset of pubic hair." On Mark Russell's 1992 CD: "He proves that there is something duller than yesterday's news."

You don't have to agree with all the assessments to appreciate the final product. Those of us who have spent an inordinate amount of time and money in thrift shops and used record outlets can feel a little less self-conscious, thanks to Ronald Smith's indispensable new book.

— Andrew Milner