Dory Previn “Mary C. Brown and the Hollywood Sign”

The first Dory Previn record I heard—found it a few years ago—it’s from 1972, so I guess I only had to wait forty-some years to hear it—this is not one that came up when I was in Junior High. It’s got a great album cover, large photos of the Hollywood sign, the “Holly” part on back (blue sign, yellow sky—in negative), the “wood” part on front (blue sky, yellow sign), but it folds out, so you see it whole, but disjointed. Artist and title are in barely legible font, and there’s a tiny photo (exactly the size of a nickel—you might miss it) of Dory Previn at the edge of this sign—maybe the smallest photo of a musical artist on the cover of their album (vinyl), ever? Inside are lyrics, in typewriter font, indicating literariness, and not using any caps, which usually indicates craziness.

It makes sense with this record to just go through song by song. First is the title song, a jaunty number about the sign, a beacon for dreamers and the misguided, and how Mary Cecilia Brown, disillusioned at not becoming a star, jumped to her death off the letter “H”—and thus finally attained some level of fame. It’s the same old story, you’ve heard it. It would be interesting to determine, at this point—if this was possible—if anyone at all has fuzzy, glowing feelings about that sign—I mean without at least some degree of cynicism. “The Holy Man on Malibu Bus Number Three” (my favorite song on the record) is a really pretty one—also a bit mystical, a childhood memory about seeing an old man on the bus who noticed she had “two diff’rent eyes” that see opposites (which I believe the album cover is referring to). And “the child who sees both at once is the child who is destined for pain.” The man then transfers to bus that’s no longer in service. I don’t have the energy or word allotment to begin to unpack “The Midget’s Lament”—but I think it’s partly about how when people focus on the most obvious part of your identity, they cease to see anything else. “When a Man Wants a Woman”—“he’s called a hunter, but when an woman wants a man, she’s called a predator.” The short, quiet song elaborates. “Cully Surroga, He’s Almost Blind”—there’s a song title—and a nutso song, not sure what all it’s about exactly—but in part, a disturbing mediation on parenting. Another of my favorites, “Left Hand Lost,” is about left-handedness, and the tragedy of conforming lefties to the “more moral” righthandedness.

Second side—the haunting and beautiful “The Perfect Man”—who’s it about? All men?—nice line: “Perfection is the lie that covers up the fear we unsuccessfully try to hide away.” Then (long title)—“Starlet Starlet On the Screen, Who Will Follow Norma Jean?”—it’s the catchiest song on the record, great song. And we’re back to Hollywood—it’s pretty straightforward—starts out: “Who do you have to fuck to get into this picture?” She stretches out “fu-uk” to two syllables—as if it’s needed to fit rhythmically… but it has the nice effect of taking the harshness off that word—without diminishing its meaning. She saves the best for last, “If that’s anyone’s idea of heaven… who do you have to fuck to get into hell?” (Hooray for Hollywood.) “Don’t Put Him Down” is the prettiest, most sensitive song about erectile dysfunction (I think—could be ED is metaphorical for failure, or the other way around) I’ve heard in a while. Nice line: “Hey looka him, he’s a male, but it’s the wail of the weary minstrel, it’s the dance of the desperate clown singing don’t put me down if I fail.” “King Kong” wears out its welcome faster even than (any of) the movies—it’s too jaunty and too obvious (fear of “the other,” I guess). And, finally, a medley. One day, the “medley” will thankfully be phased out of art and cuisine (left only for sports), but I guess this was intended to be some sort of musical, so I’ll allow it—well, it’s undeniable. “Morning Star/Evening Star” (“mortal immortal/icicle and flame/feminine and masculine/and I am the same”). “Jesus Was a Androgyne” (“Jesus was a freako baby/just like you and me”). “Anima/Animus” (“you are… god”). Wraps it all up! And in true musical fashion, brings it full circle. Last word, “God”—and the record ends with an extended, loud, falsetto, vibrato-ing note. It’s impressive (as you leap for the volume knob)—though, I have to add, they missed the opportunity for a truly awe-inspiring lock groove.

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