Cashing in on his keyboard rather than bandleading talents,
Frankie Carle paid tribute to many subjects during an RCA-Victor contract that apparently set no maximum limit on the number of separate titles released: classical masters, the sunrise, roses, honky tonk, cocktails, a sea cruise, then one around the world, dancing favorites, Broadway show favorites, '20s hits, '30s hits, '40s hits, just plain pop hits. Finally, right around the time
Carle moved to a smaller firm, small enough to be called Dot, it might have been arranger
David Gates who suggested "Why don't we do a tribute to the piano itself?"
Carle wisely included
Fats Waller,
Duke Ellington, and
Floyd Cramer among his subjects, absorbing from the latter country & western stylist what sounds like a near-complete stylistic patina; processes such as cloning and mind digestion may have been involved. The aforementioned
Gates swung open to big chart success in the '70s as a co-leader of
Bread.
Plays the Great Piano Hits was concocted midway through the previous decade and the most famous person involved with it was neither the star of the show nor
Gates but poet
Rod McKuen, credited with the liner notes. "Revolutions are born and put down,"
McKuen promises in his third sentence. While his point seems to be that old-fashioned
Carle is not subject to revolutionary change, possible revolutionary implications could be found as a totality within the
dozen tracks simply by the act of listening to something that it is understood is not supposed to be listened to.
McKuen goes along with this implication, stating that he "can't think of a better album for dancing, or just easy listening," the latter term of course meaning that one isn't actually supposed to listen.
Hardened rock critics in the '70s accused
Gates of turning pop music into easy listening, so perhaps something like the King Midas touch is in play, only involving shape-shifting music into Muzak. The actual elements
Carle and the unidentified accompanying orchestra and band provide are hardly worthy of being ignored like elevator music, right from "Near You"'s opening electric guitar motif, as solid as a column of Fender amps. The metaphor of the touch loses its sense of accuracy when confronted with the initial contributions assumed to be those of the arranger. These string sections actually sound more like squads of immigration cops herding the occupants of an unwanted steamship into a holding warehouse. Sure, maybe appropriate for "Exodus," closing an unfortunate first side, still that only brings up the subject of why someone would program that closer so close to "Ain't Misbehavin'," only a pile of "Autumn Leaves" between them.
Carle,
Gates too, hit their stride come the flip of a side, using a "Canadian Sunset" to introduce the wonderful cover of
Cramer's "Last Date." "Beat Me Daddy, Eight to the Bar" gets a terrific rhythm & blues treatment,
Gates having paid some Oklahoma dues with
Chuck Berry. The session rhythm section -- brilliant, whoever they are -- unreel a set of patterns that a garage band would be up all night trying to memorize. Piano virtuosity is apparent on the version of "Sophisticated Lady,"
Carle is the man zipping up her evening gown while rippling through the lovely patterns of the song with his other hand. An "Alley Cat," too brief, walks by for the finale. ~ Eugene Chadbourne