Claude Denjean – Moog!
Label / Cat. No: Decca PFS 4212
First Released: 1970
What The Album Blurb Says…
The Moog Synthesizer, this incredible and new electronic musical wonder, has had an uneven ride on records, especially in the popular field. Effectively used on two great-selling albums (Switched-on Bach and The Well-Tempered Synthesizer), the Moog served the classics as a kind of musical duplicator, that is, reproducing and imitating the sound of real instruments. In the “pop” field it has been a fairly different story. Most often used as a gimmick for the odd effect, the Moog has not fully come into its own in the popular field. This may be due to the Moog’s personality: it speaks with strength, it doesn’t care to be in the background and if used improperly it completely overshadows everything else that is going on.
On this LP Claude Denjean comes to terms with the problem by giving the Moog its rightful place in a fair exchange between synthesizer and orchestra. To exciting settings of twelve great hit sons, this LP really gives the Moog, it all its electronic glory. That plus the stereo excellence of Phase 4 adds up to irresistible listening.
What I Say
Imagine it – 1970. It was a good year, vintage some might say. An especially good year for boys born in Croydon. Around September time I’d say. Yes, very good indeed.
Of course, space was still sexy, the Moon looming large in people’s minds as well as in the sky. Music and technology coming together in one big cosmic fusion, with the magnificent Moog! leading the charge. Wibbly wobbly farty noises added a bit of universal mystery to any song, and boy is that a lesson that Claude Denjean has learnt.
Claude Denjean. Ah, the mysterious Dutchman who rode to the rescue of the Moog!’s reputation. Noble Claude, the man who was going to put the Moog! centre stage to show it’s critics what it could do. What I can’t understand is why anybody wouldn’t like the Moog! it’s got an exclamation mark and everything. It’s also one of only three instruments named after a real person – The Moog!, The Sousaphone, and of course Rolf Harris’ Stylophone. Actually, that would be an album I would pay to hear, one combining those three iconic instruments. Someone should pitch this to E.M.I.
Anyway, it seems a bit unfair to call this a ‘Forgotten Album’, because there’s plenty of pictures and copies of it all over the internet. I fear that it may have become a bit of a cult classic because, like the moon, this album is made of pure cheese. Extremely cheesey cheese at that.
I shouldn’t be harsh. It’s just a reflection of the times, and I’m happy to accept an album that hangs on the idea of a synthesizer as a novelty. I would of course be happier if it was a better album though.
Stylistic tics aside, this could have been an opportunity not only to showcase the versatility of the Moog!, but also to use it to enhance the songs chosen for the album. Instead, it really is mostly an opportunity to make wibbly wobbly farty noises over pretty bland arrangements of popular songs.
The Moog! also seems to take on the melody lines of the songs, which is fair enough. It is after all the Moog!’s album – it says so on the cover and everything. It’s trying to have its cake and eat it (do Moog!’s eat cake? I’m not sure….) It could work if it were being purely tuneful, it could work if it were trying to be atmospheric, but trying to be both ends up as overkill.
The Moog! may well be a victim of its own success. It shows too much variety in what it can do to give this album any kind of thematic structure (oh, look at him, old Mr. Forgottenalbums, getting above himself and talking about thematic structure….) There’s no common thread through the (wildly differently arranged) songs here.
And the arrangements themselves are, frankly, weird. Not just odd, but outright looney tunes. All you need to do is play the two (yes, two!) ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’ clips to see what I mean. Without the sleeve notes, it took me over half a minute to work out what the song was.
‘Come Together’ is unusually sombre, ‘Everybody’s Talkin’ has completely removed that beautiful rolling guitar that makes the song, and ‘Lay Lady Lay’ literally, honestly made me laugh out loud.
If this is the sound of the future, then we are all doomed. Doomed I tell you.
Tracks
Side 1
1. Na Na Hey Hey Kiss Him Goodbye
2. Nights In White Satin
3. Sugar, Sugar
4. Raindrops Keep Fallin’ On My Head
5. House Of The Rising Sun
6. Everybody’s Talkin’
Side 2
1. Venus
2. Come Together
3. Bridge Over Troubled Water Clip 1 Clip 2
4. Lay Lady Lay
5. United We Stand
6. Proud Mary
Final score:
3! out of 10
domitype said,
January 26, 2010 @ 8:09 am
Ever hear of a guy named Adolf Sax? Just a few instruments with his name . . .
McDingo said,
January 26, 2010 @ 10:01 am
Who hasn’t heard of Adolf Sax! He invented the Clarinet, right?!
I have to confess that this blog is 50% diligently researched account, and 50% made up fact. You of course have pulled me up on the latter, and rightly so. As someone else has pointed out, there’s also the Theremin to add to my eponym orchestra, which is beginning to sound like a mighty fine prospect! Care to join us and take on the world?
wilberforce said,
June 25, 2010 @ 11:11 pm
first of all, as old Mr. Forgottenalbums says, 1970 was indeed a very good year: it had the World Cup featuring the best team of all time, great TV shows such as UFO, and groovy easy listening music was reaching its peak. if I could step into a time portal and choose a year to go back to, 1970 would definitely be on the shortlist – i was actually around at the time (I was 8), but too young to really appreciate what a good time it seemingly was compared to the relatively dreary and depressing present…
secondly, unlike the vast majority of the albums on his site (actually, an album by the Vast Majority is an exception), Mr. F has this time picked out something that is still considered fairly desirable by collectors of easy retro kitsch, as are a slew of records released around then featuring the Moog (!), which also somehow seems inextricably linked with space because of the space race (and the Americans supposedly landing on the moon) which was going on at the same time.
although some unscrupulous dealers are asking silly money for this album, you can pick it up reasonably cheaply if you shop around (at the time of writing this, I have a copy for sale on discogs at the more-than-reasonable price of £3.50), due to its popularity at the time of release. this was possibly due to its super-duper “stereo spectacular” concept (with futuristic-sounding “Phase 4″ buzzword that hinted at quadrophonic sound), which would have appealed to UK punters who had just splashed out on a new-fangled stereo record player.
the reason I’m ditching my copy is not just because (i agree with McDingo) the arrangements are bland, but also the song selection is equally uninteresting (well, to me, anyway). if only Claude had had a bash at something like “Light My Fire” (well, almost everybody else did at the time), or maybe picked a Bacharach number… oh yes, re-reading the tracklisting, i realise he actually did so, but unfortunately went with Burt’s most twee song ever…
Mr/Monsieur Denjean (or whatever the Dutch title-referring equivalent is) went on to make a couple more “Phase Four Stereo” albums for Decca (featuring the Moog) in the 70’s, but unfortunately they didn’t sell in anywhere near as much numbers. which is a shame as his second LP “Open Circuit” apparently features a version of Ennio Morricone’s fantastic theme for the cult Spaghetti Western “Duck You Sucker” (a.k.a. “A Fistful of Dynamite”). now that’s a real off-the-wall choice that i’d love to hear, but sadly those pesky dealers are looking for even more dosh for that than the “Moog!” album!
ps – regarding instruments named after their inventors, don’t forget the Ondes Martinot, the cousin of the Theremin (or rival, depending on how you look at it) – invented by Frenchman Maurice Martinot in 1928 (the name translated from French means “Martinot waves”)