A few words about Nilsson Schmilsson

(Throughout the next month, I'll be digging through my crates to explore records I bought but never sampled.)

Thanks to The Point and Lime in the Coconut, I’ve always seen Harry Nilsson as a goofball.

He was, but stopping there ignores his pop instincts. I don't quite buy the "American Beatle" tag. To label him as such takes away from what Nilsson could produce.

Gotta Get Up is sheer brilliance, a Beatlesque cacophony with every instrument in its right place. I wonder if Nilsson’s similarities with McCartney attracted Lennon. This song has undeniable ties to Paul, but succeeds thanks to Nilsson’s unexpectedly curt, gruff delivery. I expect it’s hard to avoid the Beatles references with Klaus Voorman playing bass.

Driving Along breezes by, as if Nilsson wrote it to emulate its subject (a la Lou Reed and Heroin).

He drops the band and just plays organ on Early in the Morning. The Moonbeam Song brings back the band, but they glide at an impossibly slow pace as Nilsson gently croons.

The bluesy piano and horn section give Down a much-needed dose of swagger. Nilsson runs with it, shedding all the sleepiness of The Moonbeam Song. Down sounds right at home in 1971, a worthy glam-rock challenger for Ziggy Stardust and Goats Head Soup.

I can’t listen to Without You without thinking of The Departed. Still, it’s an archetypal mournful ballad.

Reservoir Dogs closer or not, Lime in the Coconut is a weak point for me. That has nothing to do with the song itself. Unfortunately, the Muppet version will always be first in my heart. It’s as bizarre a song as will ever appear on a pop record, but Nilsson’s persona makes it work.

Let the Good Times Roll is a Brit-pop take on the Fifties classic, with a jaunty piano that can’t help but navigate the way to Liverpool.

Jump into the Fire is a revelation. Tell me that this song didn’t inspire young Declan McManus to change his name to Elvis Costello. It might not have, but it’s the exact type of song Costello wrote in his golden era. Nilsson’s raw vocals echo over a a pop-punk landscape. Don’t call it New Wave, because Nilsson precedes it. Here, he definitely foreshadows that movement., even if it rambles into jam-band territory. Everything builds to a nice crescendo reveals Nilsson’s rocking side and breaks away from the tight songwriting that dominates the record.

I’ll Never Leave You feels like the flipside of Without You, perfectly bookending the record’s second side. Nilsson’s fragile voice is cushioned by a mighty world-ending orchestral arrangement that does stick around long enough.

Ten songs and thirty-four minutes have passed. Today that would seem an oversight or the work of a band ripping off its fans. In the days of records, Nilsson Schmilsson was pretty typical. People conveniently forget Sgt. Pepper runs about 37 minutes. In a different way than Sgt. Pepper, Nilsson Schmilsson offers bright glimpses into rock music past and present.