muller and patton. s/t. ben patton. here's the good news album. review by alan haber. buhdge

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Muller and Patton s/t (Self-released) (2005) Here's the Good News Album Ben Patton (Self-released) (2004) I once was invited on stage to play tambourine with my friends, the popular folk/pop duo the Kennedys. After the show, Maura Kennedy told me she didn't know I had rhythm. It turns out I do--I've played drums, piano, a little guitar, and, back in the days when the horse-and-buggy ruled the cobblestone streets, accord ion--a little red-and-white pearl number that wowed the ladies at the local Hadassah meeting at the Farmingdale Jewish Center. I could cut quite the rug, it turned out, but that bellowing sucker was hard to handle. For one thing, it was heavier than me and, for another, it didn't attract girls. So, it was on to piano, guitar and drums for me, a career in the making that never got out of second gear, thanks to an inability to read music owing to a raging indifference to the art and a lack of commitment to actually learning to play an instrument like a seasoned pro. I preferred the play by ear method. Frankly, you can boil it down to pure laziness, although I managed to write a musical in high school and sell Buddy Rich's military drumsticks to a man from New York's Chinatown, but that's another story entirely, and this story is about me having rhythm. At least, so far. All things being relative, I have rhythm, alright, but just enough to get by. I used to plot out the albums I was going to record by listing song titles on a piece of paper. Those songs never got written or recorded, but I did write other, fairly simple tunes that hold a special place in my heart but have gone completely out of my head. And I can't sing; when I warble in the shower, the water goes the other way. My point in walking down memory lane is that my having rhythm has never really amounted to much more than the ability to not embarrass myself too much in public musical situations, the ones during which I am called on to perform. I just have fun and hope I don't come off as a Tiny Tim wannabe, although I suspect I do...minus the stringy hair. Some people are born to write and play music. They take to it like Minne to Sota; they can even sit down to an instrument they've never played before and before you know it, they're making music with it. Emitt Rhodes wanted a saxophone on his third album, so he went out and got a Mel Bay basic instruction book and, before you could say "Lisa Simpson," he was blowing that horn like a seasoned pro. I have no idea whether Jaye Muller and Ben Patton were the kind of kids who could pick up a tuba on Monday and join the local concert orchestra on Tuesday, but I'll bet that at least music has come fairly easy to them. I'll bet they grew up on a steady diet of professional-level songwriting by way of the music their parents played in their respective houses. I'll bet I may be wrong, but I'm pretty sure I'm at least sort of right. At any rate, I'll bet they had the good taste and fortune to listen to well-written music and got the bug and decided to do it for themselves, and, after making music on their own, they met and decided to join forces and the result is their hall-of-fame-worthy, self-titled debut album that is one of the best things I've heard in years. Muller and Patton is one of those perfect little albums that rewards close listening and doesn't overstay its welcome. It clocks in at a tidy 31 minutes and 4 seconds and doesn't waste a note. It's also really retro, but not in the way that you're thinking: There are no sounds-like blasts to the past, no Rickenbacker showcases, no (well, almost no) obvious style cops--no muss and no fuss for these boys. They seem to have tabled the urge to play the spot the influences game, soaking up, instead, their favorite sounds and coming up with something wholly original: Tin Pan Alley tunes for the 2000s (Patton even refers to such creations on his solo album, of which more later). I'll go the Tin Pan Alley reference one better: These songs are theatrical in scope. I can imagine just about all of them as part of a song review Off Broadway, or as spotlight songs in Broadway musicals. But don't get the idea that Elaine Stritch is Muller and Patton's background vocalist; these are contemporary pop songs through and through, but they are constructed in the way that some of the finest songs of the modern song era have been. This comes as no surprise to me, knowing that Ben Patton, the duo's lyricist and co-writer of the music, counts Cole Porter and Irving Berlin among his inspirations. That he also holds Brian Wilson and the Beatles in the highest esteem tells me that his touchstones are tops and that they fuel his sensibilities. Turns out, that's the case. Patton's lyrics are wildly creative. In "I Want My Mommy," he spins the tale of a lonely man wounded by love who cries out for the one person who can provide solace and closure. Hopefully, this guy isn't 45 and still living at home. The music, written by Muller and Patton, is catchy in an absurdly clever way, highlighted by some inspired harmonies that are just a bit off-center and will put a wide smile on your face. A beautifully-realized a capella intro ushers in the warm-hearted tale of "Marylou." "Poor Marylou/Does not want to cuddle...Just pout in a puddle," so the story goes. But what does the guy do? He asks what's wrong with the girl. "Your SOS couldn't worry me less," he says. But he probably really loves her, because, as he notes, all he does is tell her she's okay. The pretty melody, driven along by a horn part, sleighbells and woodblock sounds, works the yin to the story's yang, to great effect. "We Oughta Work Together" reminds me, construction-wise, of that song from the Xanadu soundtrack, the one which pitted the contemporary sounds of the Tubes with the 1940s sounds of Olivia Newton-John and Gene Kelly. Well, not so much, but this song's chorus is pure pop all the way and the verses are steeped in Cole Porter-land. Then there's the power pop-fueled middle eight. The mix is simply divine. After the clever acoustic guitar intro, eerily reminiscent of the intros to the Beatles' "Eleanor Rigby" and "The Continuing Adventures of Bungalow Bill," you're drawn into the nudge-nudge, wink-wink advice contained within the bouncy, piano-driven, McCartneyesque "Life Preserver." The way to maximize love, the song posits, is to "Take care of your life preserver/When a lover comes to call/Don't play with your parachute/You never know when you might fall." Uh-huh. Advice for the lovelorn? Nah, just plain old good advice for the man in your life, and a damn fine song. Muller and Patton is an astoundingly great album. The vocal arrangements are full of surprise and wonder, the playing, chiefly by the duo, is top-notch, and the songs are simply terrific. If there is a single here, it probably is "But Do You Trust Me?", a classic kind of pop song delivered with the accent on a top-drawer, instantly singalongwithable melody. (A video for the song is contained on the CD, as is a short interview with the duo). Such melodies are also abundant on Ben Patton's most recent solo record, Here's the Good News Album. The songs, written solely by Patton, are perhaps a bit more straightforward than the co-writes on Muller and Patton, at least at first listen, but they quickly show great depth and a mastery of craft that proves how talented Patton is. Playing the lion's share of the instruments, Patton opens up with the seemingly autobiographical "I Feel Alive Again," a lively pop song about getting settled in new surroundings and feeding off an abundance of starting-over energy. A very cool arrangement, centered around some dense background vocals, makes the singer's words, comprising a universal story, come alive. That's what you get throughout this album, a sense of being alive and wanting to enjoy every minute of it. The rocking "That's What I Picture" provides the ultimate panacea for the person waiting for his life to begin: the eventual realization of a family to keep his heart beating. The upbeat, poppy "What'd You Expect" is similarly hopeful, and contains a great couplet: "You were through with romance/But an accordion begged you to dance." If that's not hope, I don't know what is. If you've ever thought that youth is wasted on the young, your proof is contained in "I'm Young," the story of a guy who is totally clueless and myopic (and pretty damned sure of himself). His excuse? He's young! Remember what youth is wasted on... Two very clever classically-realized songs really delight. "I'm a Cup" is almost, but not quite, a children's song. The singer is a dreamer alright, a chameleon, a cup, "A cup of joy/I'm merely six feet tall/But after all I'm just a boy/Who's happy to be a cup." The jazzy "I Think My Girlfriend's Been Seeing Cole Porter" is just crying out for a nightclub showcase; its tight wordplay contains some interesting, smile-inducing rhymes reminiscent of its subject, such as the following classic: "But who could be the man who put my life in such disorder/It's dawned on me/It's plain to see/Obviously/You'd rather be/With Cole Porter." I'd rather be with Muller and Patton, in any musical form on offer. Together, the duo's self-titled debut and Patton's Here's the Good News Album contain some of the best pop music being produced today. It's obvious to me that their talent knows no bounds, and they will continue to grow and have a lasting effect on listeners of discerning pop taste. They are music naturals, and they are here to stay. See, this is what I'm saying: It's not enough to have the ambition to be a musician, to be a songwriter, to be both and carry it off as effortlessly as Muller and Patton. So many years later, I realize my ambition far outpaces my musical talent; I can plunk the piano keys, play excellent air guitar, and recreate horn parts on Chicago records by pursing my lips and humming (yes, it can be done). But really doing it, making records that will last...well, that's not my forte. It is Muller and Patton's, and they really do cut quite the rug. Alan Haber March 26, 2005
alan haber's pure pop buhdgeblog hot buhdge \| pop buhdge \| buhdge remembers television buhdge \| film buhdge \| books buhdge video buhdge \| buhdge fine print \| links about buhdge \| write for buhdge \| contact home (c) 2004 Alan Haber

Muller and Patton
s/t
(Self-released) (2005)

Here's the Good News Album
Ben Patton
(Self-released) (2004)

I once was invited on stage to play tambourine with my friends, the popular folk/pop duo the Kennedys. After the show, Maura Kennedy told me she didn't know I had rhythm. It turns out I do--I've played drums, piano, a little guitar, and, back in the days when the horse-and-buggy ruled the cobblestone streets, accord ion--a little red-and-white pearl number that wowed the ladies at the local Hadassah meeting at the Farmingdale Jewish Center.

I could cut quite the rug, it turned out, but that bellowing sucker was hard to handle. For one thing, it was heavier than me and, for another, it didn't attract girls. So, it was on to piano, guitar and drums for me, a career in the making that never got out of second gear, thanks to an inability to read music owing to a raging indifference to the art and a lack of commitment to actually learning to play an instrument like a seasoned pro. I preferred the play by ear method. Frankly, you can boil it down to pure laziness, although I managed to write a musical in high school and sell Buddy Rich's military drumsticks to a man from New York's Chinatown, but that's another story entirely, and this story is about me having rhythm. At least, so far.

All things being relative, I have rhythm, alright, but just enough to get by. I used to plot out the albums I was going to record by listing song titles on a piece of paper. Those songs never got written or recorded, but I did write other, fairly simple tunes that hold a special place in my heart but have gone completely out of my head. And I can't sing; when I warble in the shower, the water goes the other way.

My point in walking down memory lane is that my having rhythm has never really amounted to much more than the ability to not embarrass myself too much in public musical situations, the ones during which I am called on to perform. I just have fun and hope I don't come off as a Tiny Tim wannabe, although I suspect I do...minus the stringy hair.

Some people are born to write and play music. They take to it like Minne to Sota; they can even sit down to an instrument they've never played before and before you know it, they're making music with it. Emitt Rhodes wanted a saxophone on his third album, so he went out and got a Mel Bay basic instruction book and, before you could say "Lisa Simpson," he was blowing that horn like a seasoned pro.

muller and patton I have no idea whether Jaye Muller and Ben Patton were the kind of kids who could pick up a tuba on Monday and join the local concert orchestra on Tuesday, but I'll bet that at least music has come fairly easy to them. I'll bet they grew up on a steady diet of professional-level songwriting by way of the music their parents played in their respective houses. I'll bet I may be wrong, but I'm pretty sure I'm at least sort of right. At any rate, I'll bet they had the good taste and fortune to listen to well-written music and got the bug and decided to do it for themselves, and, after making music on their own, they met and decided to join forces and the result is their hall-of-fame-worthy, self-titled debut album that is one of the best things I've heard in years.

Muller and Patton is one of those perfect little albums that rewards close listening and doesn't overstay its welcome. It clocks in at a tidy 31 minutes and 4 seconds and doesn't waste a note. It's also really retro, but not in the way that you're thinking: There are no sounds-like blasts to the past, no Rickenbacker showcases, no (well, almost no) obvious style cops--no muss and no fuss for these boys. They seem to have tabled the urge to play the spot the influences game, soaking up, instead, their favorite sounds and coming up with something wholly original: Tin Pan Alley tunes for the 2000s (Patton even refers to such creations on his solo album, of which more later).

I'll go the Tin Pan Alley reference one better: These songs are theatrical in scope. I can imagine just about all of them as part of a song review Off Broadway, or as spotlight songs in Broadway musicals. But don't get the idea that Elaine Stritch is Muller and Patton's background vocalist; these are contemporary pop songs through and through, but they are constructed in the way that some of the finest songs of the modern song era have been. This comes as no surprise to me, knowing that Ben Patton, the duo's lyricist and co-writer of the music, counts Cole Porter and Irving Berlin among his inspirations. That he also holds Brian Wilson and the Beatles in the highest esteem tells me that his touchstones are tops and that they fuel his sensibilities.

Turns out, that's the case. Patton's lyrics are wildly creative. In "I Want My Mommy," he spins the tale of a lonely man wounded by love who cries out for the one person who can provide solace and closure. Hopefully, this guy isn't 45 and still living at home. The music, written by Muller and Patton, is catchy in an absurdly clever way, highlighted by some inspired harmonies that are just a bit off-center and will put a wide smile on your face.

A beautifully-realized a capella intro ushers in the warm-hearted tale of "Marylou." "Poor Marylou/Does not want to cuddle...Just pout in a puddle," so the story goes. But what does the guy do? He asks what's wrong with the girl. "Your SOS couldn't worry me less," he says. But he probably really loves her, because, as he notes, all he does is tell her she's okay. The pretty melody, driven along by a horn part, sleighbells and woodblock sounds, works the yin to the story's yang, to great effect.

"We Oughta Work Together" reminds me, construction-wise, of that song from the Xanadu soundtrack, the one which pitted the contemporary sounds of the Tubes with the 1940s sounds of Olivia Newton-John and Gene Kelly. Well, not so much, but this song's chorus is pure pop all the way and the verses are steeped in Cole Porter-land. Then there's the power pop-fueled middle eight. The mix is simply divine.

After the clever acoustic guitar intro, eerily reminiscent of the intros to the Beatles' "Eleanor Rigby" and "The Continuing Adventures of Bungalow Bill," you're drawn into the nudge-nudge, wink-wink advice contained within the bouncy, piano-driven, McCartneyesque "Life Preserver." The way to maximize love, the song posits, is to "Take care of your life preserver/When a lover comes to call/Don't play with your parachute/You never know when you might fall." Uh-huh. Advice for the lovelorn? Nah, just plain old good advice for the man in your life, and a damn fine song.

Muller and Patton is an astoundingly great album. The vocal arrangements are full of surprise and wonder, the playing, chiefly by the duo, is top-notch, and the songs are simply terrific. If there is a single here, it probably is "But Do You Trust Me?", a classic kind of pop song delivered with the accent on a top-drawer, instantly singalongwithable melody. (A video for the song is contained on the CD, as is a short interview with the duo).

ben patton's here's the good news album Such melodies are also abundant on Ben Patton's most recent solo record, Here's the Good News Album. The songs, written solely by Patton, are perhaps a bit more straightforward than the co-writes on Muller and Patton, at least at first listen, but they quickly show great depth and a mastery of craft that proves how talented Patton is.

Playing the lion's share of the instruments, Patton opens up with the seemingly autobiographical "I Feel Alive Again," a lively pop song about getting settled in new surroundings and feeding off an abundance of starting-over energy. A very cool arrangement, centered around some dense background vocals, makes the singer's words, comprising a universal story, come alive.

That's what you get throughout this album, a sense of being alive and wanting to enjoy every minute of it. The rocking "That's What I Picture" provides the ultimate panacea for the person waiting for his life to begin: the eventual realization of a family to keep his heart beating. The upbeat, poppy "What'd You Expect" is similarly hopeful, and contains a great couplet: "You were through with romance/But an accordion begged you to dance." If that's not hope, I don't know what is.

If you've ever thought that youth is wasted on the young, your proof is contained in "I'm Young," the story of a guy who is totally clueless and myopic (and pretty damned sure of himself). His excuse? He's young! Remember what youth is wasted on...

Two very clever classically-realized songs really delight. "I'm a Cup" is almost, but not quite, a children's song. The singer is a dreamer alright, a chameleon, a cup, "A cup of joy/I'm merely six feet tall/But after all I'm just a boy/Who's happy to be a cup." The jazzy "I Think My Girlfriend's Been Seeing Cole Porter" is just crying out for a nightclub showcase; its tight wordplay contains some interesting, smile-inducing rhymes reminiscent of its subject, such as the following classic: "But who could be the man who put my life in such disorder/It's dawned on me/It's plain to see/Obviously/You'd rather be/With Cole Porter."

I'd rather be with Muller and Patton, in any musical form on offer. Together, the duo's self-titled debut and Patton's Here's the Good News Album contain some of the best pop music being produced today. It's obvious to me that their talent knows no bounds, and they will continue to grow and have a lasting effect on listeners of discerning pop taste. They are music naturals, and they are here to stay.

See, this is what I'm saying: It's not enough to have the ambition to be a musician, to be a songwriter, to be both and carry it off as effortlessly as Muller and Patton. So many years later, I realize my ambition far outpaces my musical talent; I can plunk the piano keys, play excellent air guitar, and recreate horn parts on Chicago records by pursing my lips and humming (yes, it can be done). But really doing it, making records that will last...well, that's not my forte. It is Muller and Patton's, and they really do cut quite the rug.

Alan Haber
March 26, 2005