Review: Dion - Alone With Dion (1961)
Tracks: 1) Lonely Teenager; 2) After The Dance; 3) P.S. I Love You; 4) Save The Last Dance For Me; 5) Little Miss Blue; 6) Havin’ Fun; 7) Close Your Eyes; 8) Fools Rush In; 9) My One And Only Love; 10) North East End Of The Corner; 11) One For My Baby; 12) Then I’ll Be Tired Of You.
REVIEW
Now that’s an album cover that could give little kids nightmares. I actually admire the symbolism — there’s like a dozen different interpretations one could come up with, given the combination of that point-blank stare and the lack of a head or torso in conjunction with the gloved hands. A little swag, a little glamor, a touch of horror, shaken, not stirred. It’s almost a pity that the contents of the record never live up to the genius cheesiness of the front sleeve. Alas, though, even the genius cheesiness was not enough to convince the public that a record like that is an absolute must for their collection. Not only did it flop, but it was so deeply forgotten that even the current edition of Wikipedia does not have a separate page for it, going on to claim, on the Runaround Sue page, that Runaround Sue was actually the first solo Dion album, when it was very clearly the second. Guess the author of the page was probably one of those little kids, still haunted by the terrifying image of red-gloved arms dragging a dashing young man down into the depths of hell and devoting the rest of his life to wiping out any memories of that image from history.
Which is kind of funny, really, given the usual reasoning behind Dion splitting from The Belmonts, a decision officially announced on October 16, 1960, and confirmed by the release of his first solo single, ‘Lonely Teenager’, within the same month. Both Dion himself and his former bandmates went on record saying that the split was due to musical differences: Dion allegedly wanted to get into grittier rock’n’roll, blues, and country, which left less legroom for the doo-wop harmonies of Carlo, Fred, and Angelo. Yet the real picture is a little more complicated, because neither ‘Lonely Teenager’ nor, in fact, much of anything else on Alone With Dion could seriously qualify as «gritty rock’n’roll» — nor does it make a lot of sense for the proverbially angelic voices of the backing ladies to replace the trusty support of the Belmonts. Honestly, it feels more like a typical struggle-for-power conflict, in which the frontman feels himself constricted by the very fact of having the name of his band always attached to him like a ball and a chain. Besides, when you have a choice to be depicted on the front sleeve of your next album with two or three more attractive guys that look like you, or with a pair of lady arms reaching out for your bosom, which one would you prefer?
Anyway, for his solo debut the producers decided to split Dion’s artistic personality in two halves, dedicating the entirety of Side A to contemporary pop and Side B to old-fashioned Tin Pan Alley. Because of that decision, my summary of Alone With Dion will be shorter than it could have been — in light of the fact that all of Side B sucks Harold Arlen’s and Johnny Mercer’s asses, big time. It’s basically Dion trying to be the next Frank Sinatra, and I have a hard enough time lodging the first Frank Sinatra in the spare backrooms of my brain. Pretty much the only thing Dion DiMucci could have on Frank in 1960-61 is his younger age, but even that works against him when he tries ‘One For My Baby’ on for size — a song that, in order to be sung efficiently, requires at least a couple of decades of trials and tribulations. There is simply no use anywhere in the universe for those six covers, with their unimaginative orchestral arrangements and flowery vocal performances that do not even try to add depth or subtlety. Technically, of course, it’s all quite impeccable, but «semantically» — throw this crap on the pile, please.
The first side of the album is a bit more acceptable: featuring comparatively more sparse arrangements, usually based on acoustic guitar rhythms accompanied by occasional pianos, horns, and/or backup vocals, and showcasing contemporary professional songwriting, they do a better job of conveying Dion’s «humanity». ‘Lonely Teenager’ is the standout track, of course, though mostly because of its lyrical subject — with a title like that, you’d think it would be another broken-hearted ballad about the inability to find true love, but in reality it’s a tune that questions the consequences of adolescent rebellion: "Now I’m seventeen, still alone / Wondering if I should go home / Or maybe stay out on my own / I’m a lonely teenager". Written by three little-known Italian songwriters from Brooklyn who may well have known what they were talking about, it’s a good vehicle for demonstrating the more vulnerable side of Dion’s voice, culminating in the almost «cowardly» inflection on the bridge: "I know I’ll be alright / If I stay out of sight". Add to this the delicate frailty of the acoustic rhythm, and the song becomes a shy little puppy of a tune which I could easily envisage as, say, a Paul Simon acoustic ballad. Now this is something for which Dion most certainly had the advantage on Frank Sinatra.
Of the two Doc Pomus – Mort Shuman numbers, ‘Save The Last Dance For Me’ is the more expendable one, simply because it does not improve on the classic Drifters version; but ‘Havin’ Fun’, written specifically for Dion and once again putting him into «my life is so wretched» mode, works better, and I particularly appreciate those little trombone overlays emphasizing the song’s melancholy — the use of brass here follows essentially the same purposes as it would in some of the classic Kinks tracks. Together with ‘Lonely Teenager’, these two songs make Dion into a viable alternative for Ricky Nelson to those who would like their broken-heartedness a little more lively and a little less icy: the difference is that Dion, as befits a proper red-blooded Italian, still wants to shout about his pain in the market square, while Ricky always seems more comfortable quietly picking his sores in the darkest corner of his bedroom. Personally, I prefer Ricky’s modesty, but I also appreciate that Dion is at least not pulling an all-out «teenage Pavarotti» on us, either.
The happier songs are also pretty much OK: ‘After The Dance’ (from the songwriting team of Joseph Meyer and Robert Allen) is spoiled a little by overloud and over-annoying backing vocals, but it’s difficult not to tap your foot to the infectious beat — and Ronnie Isle’s ‘Little Miss Blue’ is just pretty, bouncy pop fluff, hard to remember but equally hard to despise while it’s on. Which leaves space for but one slow-burning ballad, the old chestnut of ‘P.S. I Love You’ (not the Beatles song, of course, which had not even been written yet — the slow "dear, I thought I’d drop a line..." ballad previously covered by just about every vocal jazz artist of note). This one should probably have made it onto Side B, but since it does not feature any orchestration, instead placing its trust into jazzy guitar arpeggios, midnight piano tinkling, and haunting faraway backing vocals, it’s a bit more preferable. I don’t have much use for it, but I can easily see people who would — there’s a definite charm to Dion’s shaky, near-crying vibrato as he desperately tries to get into the right mood.
On the whole, after all, it’s easy to understand why Alone With Dion is pretty much forgotten next to Runaround Sue — the album cover alone is something that each of us would probably want to unsee — but if Dion is a hero of yours in the first place, Side A should definitely not be ignored. Its few songs do provide a better opportunity to evaluate the man’s capacity as a solo performer, and they also form a stark contrast with the soon-to-come image of the man as a macho womanizer (‘The Wanderer’, etc.); here, he is as sensitive, romantic, and even downright shy as they come, even belying that piercing "I-know-what-you-really-need-darling" stare on the album cover. Admittedly, this is not a whole lot of material to be overjoyed about, but then there’s no denying, either, that Dion was and would always be a singles artist rather than a «long-playing» one. On the other hand, most of the standard compilations only include ‘Lonely Teenager’, when ‘Havin’ Fun’ is at least almost as good, and those happy-poppy dance tunes do not lag too far behind. Do stay away from all that awful lounge jazz on Side B, though, unless you’ve already got your top hat out and polished.
Only Solitaire reviews: Dion