Michael Penn - Mr. Hollywood Jr., 1947

Genre rock Publisher spinART External Links Official Website spinART

I like this album a lot. Michael Penn's 5th offering and first release on his own label Mimeograph (released via spinART), Mr. Hollywood Jr., 1947 follows a loose conceptual format of Hollywood circa that mid-century era, citing such notable events as the invention of the portable radio and an all-out rash of UFO sightings that year. Penn's notoriety as a songwriter needs not be expounded on, or if it does, allow me to catch you up - Michael Penn is an incredible songwriter. Innovative lyrics and interesting arrangements have always been a signature and this latest record is a feather in the cap of an already stellar reputation among up to speed industry folk.

The listener is eased in with the smooth and mellow with "Walter Reed," pretty woeful - "baby I lost the will for fighting over everything...make no mistake I'm mad, 'cause every good thing I had abandoned me...I'm the walking wounded." The next two cuts, "Denton Road" and "Room 712, The Apache" perpetuate this mirthless tint, and I was losing some of my own palate for the album for a second. Luckily they're short and (sadly) sweet. They set a nostalgic, lonely tone and I was damn near in tears feeling sort of sorry for myself and this character of his in Los Angeles, not sure which one of us deserved more, sniff, pity. He brings it back to life just in time with the sixth song, "Mary Lynn", which when I got over my urge to belt "all we are saying, is give..." absolutely delighted me. Penn's wife Aimee Mann (who herself released a concept album, The Forgotten Arm earlier this year) adds her own stomps, claps, and vocals on this one, as well as contributing on bass in a few other songs. This is the best song on the album and is one to spread the word about, though I doubt it will have any mainstream appeal.

He takes great advantage of self-release and production in such deviceful tracks as "The Transistor", "18 September" and "The Television Set Waltz", the former two fun noisy bits reflective of those formerly mentioned historical spikes of 1947, the latter a grinning dive into a classic waltz. I attempted to twirl about my condo with a girlfriend and ended up upsetting both her and my bookshelf. Sorry about that, dear, my heart was in the right place, even if my feet weren't.

I wasn't very impressed with the song getting all of the airplay at the moment, "On Automatic", and I predict "A Bad Sign" will be the next for radio coziness. Not the best, though both admittedly spent a significant amount of time recycling in my head at unexpected times, which I suppose is one the classic marks of overall hit appeal. All in all, I highly recommend Mr. Hollywood Jr., 1947, though suggest that you pay attention to those off the beaten path, and don't beat a path on your baby's feet if you attempt to dance a waltz; you're really just going to be asking for trouble.