Review: Dion & The Belmonts - Wish Upon A Star (1960)

Tracks: 1) When You Wish Upon A Star; 2) In The Still Of The Night; 3) A Lover’s Prayer; 4) My Private Joy; 5) My Day; 6) Swinging On A Star; 7) All The Things You Are; 8) It’s Only A Paper Moon; 9) In Other Words; 10) I’m Through With Love; 11) When The Red Red Robbin Comes Bob Bob Bobbin’ Along; 12) September Song.

REVIEW

As much as I would like to mellow out and say something nice about this album, I have a lingering suspicion that it is really a subtly laid out infernal trap — say something nice about Dion & The Belmonts covering sentimental American standards in 1960, and the next day you wake up with a craving to buy up every single Christmas album released from 1950 to 2020, selling off your entire record collection to raise the appropriate funds. Were I twenty years younger, this entire review would probably consist of nothing but a mix of sarcasm with expletives; these days, my writing (like everybody else’s) tends to be more polite — but at least I am happy to say that my gut reaction toward an LP like this has not changed at all. (The gut reaction being: "If I ever catch myself becoming a fan of this kind of music, please put me out of my misery".)

Admittedly, Dion himself does not seem to recall the record with much fondness, insisting that he was under pressure from both the record label and The Belmonts themselves — which is easily understood, because it is precisely on sappy romantic ballads like these that the boys could really showcase the strength of their vocal harmonies; meanwhile, Dion wanted to do more upbeat, more modern-sounding material which left them in a somewhat diminished role. Given that he was beset by his own personal problems in early 1960 (including the need to check into a hospital to battle his heroin addiction), he was probably in no position to fight at the time, which explains the existence of Wish Upon A Star; but as soon as he was properly back on his feet, the situation changed drastically and we went from ‘When The Red Red Robbin Comes Bob Bob Bobbin’ Along’ to ‘Runaround Sue’ and ‘The Wanderer’ pretty quickly, thank God (and the struggling, but at least partially efficient American medical system) for that.

There is exactly one song on this album that I wouldn’t mind hearing again in the future: ‘My Private Joy’, a fairly fresh composition by the famous duo of Doc Pomus and Mort Shuman, which sounds just like all those fun pop-rock numbers they wrote for Elvis — catchy, life-asserting, New Orleanian all over, with an ecstatic sax solo and a relatively raucous performance from Mr. DiMuccio himself. That said, the earlier version of the song, recorded by the 13-year old Bobby Pedrick Jr. (later to be known as Robert John of 1979’s ‘Sad Eyes’ fame), actually rocks even harder and has a lot more grit to the singing and the arrangement (check it out to hear a really cool growl on a 13-year old, and while you’re at it, might as well check out ‘White Bucks And Saddle Shoes’, Bobby’s first hit recorded when he was just 12... what the hell am I doing reviewing a Grandma-oriented Belmonts record instead, anyway?).

As for everything else, well, we have Sinatra for that. Sure, ‘In The Still Of The Night’ sounds way different with the Belmonts’ harmonies from when Frank did it — but the true challenge for a clever interpreter of an American standard is to make it sound less rather than more corny, and the Belmonts’ harmonies here, while not exactly emulating the crooning and cooing stylistics of the 1930s, are their precise equivalents for 1960. The only saving grace is that at least the arrange­ments are not overtly saturated with strings; instead, the preferred romantic instruments of choice are chimes, ringing electric guitars, saxes, and an occasional harpsichord or two. But the basic intent behind the songs consistently remains the same, and there is no depth whatsoever to the performances. Well, at least no original depth, if you happen to love those old rusty ballads by themselves, or the way they were sung by the likes of Bing or Frank.

I suppose that Dion must have had a bit of fun doing the upbeat, danceable, modernized version of ‘Swinging On A Star’, which has an actual bass-heavy electric guitar riff egging it on (at least he sort of looked happy on the Dick Clark show while mugging along to it with the other boys); but, along with ‘My Private Joy’, it is the only non-ballad on the album, and the rest is strictly for a poor man’s Romeo to sing under the balcony of a poor woman’s Juliet. Naturally, we cannot impeach the record on grounds of technical quality — all of the harmonizing here is a vocal teacher’s absolute delight, and regardless of what Dion himself thought about his ability to leave a mark on these standards, he invests enough professionalism in his delivery to show his utmost respect for them. But nothing can obscure the fact that, with a few minor reservations, Wish Upon A Star is a case of the past extending its iron grip over the present, rather than the present recasting the past in a new light — and just one more example of how the record industry was trying to subvert the musical revolution of the youth by subtly seducing said youth with the benefits of «maturity», «adulthood», and «seriousness». You know — if that sort of life is what you wish, you may grow up to be a fish and all that. The sad news, in the end, is that this record just ain’t no bunch of moonbeams carried home in a jar.

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