Harry Connick Jr. - She

 

... Oh no. He did. He did make a funk album. He made 2 funk albums, and i don't have the one about the space turtle. I have the supposedly worse one. She. She screams in silence, a sullen riot penetrating through her mind (thanks, Green Day). 

What should we expect? Will it be surprisingly tolerable, or will it make me puke? Plus there's two different kinds of Funk, you know? There's your James Brown Soul you can dance to, and then there's your outer space weed Funk a la Hendrix and George Clinton. I can't see the Con man going the Average White Band or Rare Earth route, mostly because he'd have a whole lotta high caliber hometown heavyweights busting his chops if he did an actual terrible job. New Orleans has a pretty substantial Funk history, after all. I think most people would be willing to accept a certain level of lyrical dumbness, but musically it has to be at least mediocre. Lots of Chinese people were confused when he toured the album there, but who wouldn't be confused by a Jazz singer showing up with a whole set of bass grooves and wah-wah? Clearly it wasn't terrible enough to make preemptive soup out of the Star Turtle, but there's only 1 way to find out... 

...mmkay. Let's not sugar coat it, the opening title track is Adult Contemporary Funk, and i'm not entirely convinced the chorus is a compliment. The cool down of Between us is way too early, and there's absolutely no reason for those funky guitar licks to be anywhere near this middle-age Clapton-like ballad. It doesn't sound smooth or sophisticated, it sounds out of touch and weird. 

Here Comes The Big Parade and Trouble are much better. This sounds great, actually. I'm not sure we really needed the extended snare solo, or bongos, but at least these are reasonable Harry Connick Jr. jazz funk songs. Some of that trademark questionably flap your hands against the keyboard piano work. Track 5 is great. I'm thinking the first two tracks are the fluke stinkers that most people don't even bother getting past. I'm not crazy about that guitar tone for the solo, but that's a personal problem. 

And then we go straight to crazy town. I don't want to ruin the experience for you, go check out Follow The Music and Joe Slam and the Spaceship (tracks 6 and 7). They are unique, to say the least. JSATS sounds exactly like something i would publish. 

And then back to the boogie. And then the important question "why is Honestly Now... on this album?" And funky robot sounds.  Ugh, 4 more tracks. If we must. 

Hello again, honky tonk piano and brass. Nothing quite as unsettling as a monotone chorus of the words "funky dunky" punctuated by a gunshot and that god awful slowed down spoken voice again. 

What the hell is this album? Clearly it's structured to mean something but i don't like going to parties like this. Is That Party supposed to be social commentary, or just his version of Tom's Diner? 

And we end with life is a prison, and we're all on death row, so play some honky tonk piano, i guess. 

Ok, there are more than a few truly enjoyable musical moments here, but this is like the worst album ever created. 1) no, i don't, i have absolutely no goddamned idea why Booker died of a broken heart, but that outro guitar solo is disgusting. 2) what does it even mean that Fieldfines Samantha Rambardi played "woolen squeak trinket," let alone Harry himself taking on "dog chain" duties? 3) it took like 4 tries to figure out the bizarre folding of the booklet and now that it's finally back in there i'll write a sticky note to never take it out again. 

4) who is that old guy staring at me on the actual disc? Is this album a hallucination at an airport terminal? 5) the little intro text by whoever that was seems to tell us that "she" is actually New York City, but that makes no sense at all so clearly it must be true. 

The first two songs are obviously throwaway radio singles, then the true bizarrity of this album begins. It has structure, but what that structure means is a total mystery. Maybe it's because i wasn't born on the banks of the Mississippi, or maybe because it's actual nonsense. I have no freakin' idea. Is that ridiculous spoken voice an homage to the interludes more common in hip-hop? Is there some meaning to the on again off again honky tonk out of tune piano? Is it meant to be a reflection of that dichotomy between the hustle and the real life of the people who actually live in the French Quarter? Again, i don't know, this album is the weirdest thing i've listened to in my whole life, let alone the last year. 

I'm finally at a loss for words. It's your turn. Is this garbage, or genius? I can't tell anymore.