from 1930 to 1979, Boston’s Native son Arthur Fiedler conducted the Boston Pops orchestra. In this time, he recorded a buttload of albums, including Fiedler on the Roof
and Irish Night at the Pops:
which both boast punny names and/or silly covers.However, the granddaddy of them all is Saturday Night Fiedler. In this album, Aahthah Fiedlah conducts disco arrangements of classical music pieces. *This* is why the man has a footbridge named after him (or did until recently when they pulled it down in the name of some construction project). Think “A Fifth of Beethoven” is good? Wait until you hear:
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contains booty-shaking interpretations of Bach’s “Toccata and Fugue in g Minor” and “Air on a G String.” Perfect for your next Bach-analia, I know this piece has turned me into a total Bachamaniac.
Recorded in 1979, when Arthur Fiedler was 84 years old, this is the last album he ever made, and the first and last disco album the Boston Pops ever recorded. He died a month later. About this album, Fiedler says (on the back cover):
From the moment I conducted the “Saturday Night Fiedler” suite on television in May, I knew the youngsters had done it again: disco–a marvelous, insistently rhythmic dance form to which all manner of music can be adapted from Bach to the Bee Gees. And this span of musical poles truly accents the universality of music.
If this music ever got George Melachrino laid, I’m turning in my ovaries right this second. I want to be able to get booty by dedicating music that sounds like a bad night stuck in an elevator to random chicks!
This is a 4-track 7″ with pieces of increasing mellowness entitled “Sally,” “Marie,” “Chloe,” and “Dinah.” Each piece is a unique excursion into the world of Muzak. Judging from the swanky hand on the record sleeve holding the martini glass filled with ginger ale, I’d say that this record was supposed to evoke images of sweeping elegance, tasteful opulence, and general classy lounge-ness. When I put on this record, I am instantly transported to an airport someplace… the naugahide seat cushions have been tastefully repaired with near-matching vinyl tape… the mothers are trying to lull the screaming babies to sleep by threatening to smack them… the harried, underpaid flight crew is discussing if they have time to catch another quick smoke outside before boarding commences… and “Chloe” is gently, unobtrusively, wafting over the soundsystem.
I guess that’s the whole point of lounge music– to provide a totally non-offensive backdrop to whatever event you happen to be experiencing, but it still makes me cringe to hear the soaring string pizzacatos and occasional oboe solo in these pieces. Close your eyes and pretend you’re on hold at the DMV.
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