Hi, I’m Meathead. I was watching Pink Floyd The Wall on television last night, wondering to myself why the censors felt it necessary to blur a pair of animated breasts while a literal singing asshole with a pair of balls hanging under it somehow slipped under their radar, when I was suddenly confronted with something so insanely surreal and idiotic that it wasn’t until several minutes later that I was able to mentally process what I’d actually seen. Imagine watching the news and seeing the President take off his pants, tie them around his head, and prance around the West Wing singing “If I Were King of the Forest.” Yeah, it was probably somewhere around that level of “WTF.” Allow me to explain.
Remember that one famous music producer who worked with the Beatles back in the ’60s? Kind of an eccentric guy, fucked up “The Long and Winding Road” and pissed off Paul McCartney, uh, he had weird hair… um, what else? Oh yeah, shot a woman right in the fucking face with a gun? Ring any bells? Phil Spector, that’s the guy. Remember him? Well, the judge didn’t buy his “she was just kissing the gun” defense and sent Phil to jail, where he will somehow continue to get uglier and creepier until either he dies or the year 2028 rolls around, whichever happens first.
I know what you’re thinking. “Is he single?” Sorry ladies, and gay guys, and straight guys who would totally go gay in a heartbeat for a chance to get with that sexy hunk of man meat. It would seem that ol’ Phil is currently off the market. That’s right, in a testament to the power of true love, a delightful young, blonde aspiring actress/singer named Rachelle Short was swept off her feet by Phil’s seductive charms, and was able to look beyond the fact that he is a convicted murderer who is twice her age and has a face that looks like it would be right at home in a Salvador Dali painting, and see the real Phil Spector (whatever that is). They were married before the eyes of God and a bunch of heavily armed guards on September 1, 2006. Nevermind the fact that Lana Clarkson, the woman Phil shot right in the fucking face with that gun back in 2003, was also a 30-something blonde aspiring actress, and to whom the current Mrs. Spector bears more than a passing resemblance. That obviously doesn’t mean anything at all, and it was pretty silly of me to even bring it up, I mean really.
So, what does all this have to do with that ridiculous thing I saw on TV last night? I’m getting to that. Jesus Christ, calm the hell down. If you don’t like it then go write your own fucking Buddyhead article. Asshole.
Right around the moment when the giant singing sphincter takes a giant singing dump all over Bob Geldof, they cut to a much-needed commercial break. That’s when I saw the brand new ad for Rachelle Spector’s debut album, with (and this is not hyperbole) the most ferociously stupid title I’ve ever heard in my entire life: Out of My Chelle. Looks like Phil was able to pull some strings from behind bars and get her the coveted 1 A.M. time slot on some esoteric cable channel up in the 200s. The details of the commercial are a little fuzzy at this point, but one of the big selling points that I remember was that Out of my Chelle is apparently the first Phil Spector production in three decades. It didn’t say why Phil Spector hadn’t produced anything in three decades, and it certainly didn’t mention the fact that Phil Spector is currently in jail and will most likely remain there for the rest of his natural life for shooting a Rachelle-like woman right in her fucking face, but the implication was that there simply wasn’t any music being made between 1981 and 2010 that was worthy of that special Spector magic. That is until Rachelle, whose sheer talent burns brighter than a million suns, compelled him to come out of retirement. Well, that and she’s fucking him, but that wasn’t brought up in the commercial either. I guess there’s only so much you can include in a 30-second TV spot.
After the commercial break had ended and the marching hammers or whatever were back on the screen, I decided to harness the awesome power of Google to verify whether those signals that my eyes and ears had sent to my brain were in fact caused by external stimuli, or if it was finally time to have myself committed. Turns out I’m not quite ready for that straitjacket after all, because this shit is real.
According to Rachelle Spector’s official website (for the love of all things holy, turn down your speakers before clicking), Out of My Chelle “drops” on July 20th. Of course, if you were one of her 157 Twitter followers, you would have already known that. Or you could download it on Amazon or iTunes, because apparently it’s already available there. Or you could slam the bodily appendage of your choice in a car door repeatedly.
For those of you who are consumed by self-loathing (you are reading Buddyhead, after all) and just cannot wait a whole month to bask in the AutoTuned splendor of Rachelle’s God-given abilities, you may check out clips from several diggity-dope tracks in advance: “(Shoot Me) Here In My Heart,” “Free (Once Your Parole Comes Through),” “Got Me Where You Want Me (Locked In The Bedroom),” “Baby Believe (We Don’t Need A Pre-nup),” and “Are You Willing (To Do Literally Anything To Advance Your Career).” As you already know, I hate just about everything, so naturally I listened to all five of them without delay.
Did I mention AutoTune already? Yeah, there’s a little bit of AutoTune going on here, in the same sense that there’s a “little bit” of herpes floating in the hot tub on Jersey Shore. There’s no point in attempting in-depth criticism here, as it all sounds pretty much like what you would expect from a vapid bimbo star-in-her-own-mind who thinks people still listen to Britney Spears in 2010. As for Phil Spector’s alleged production? Even if you ignore the fact that Phil and reality parted ways a long time ago, and the fact that thirty years away from the recording studio might have dulled his mad producing skillz just a tad – even if 1965 Phil Spector were magically transported to the present day to bust out his Wall of Sound for Out of My Chelle, one must bear in mind the old adage about turds and their inability to be polished.
But in case you’re still on the fence, here’s the official video (yes, they made a video) for “Here In My Heart”:
A person more cynical than myself might suggest that despite all the great things Phil has going for him, something seems a little bit suspect about this relationship. But let Rachelle put a stop to those rumors RIGHT NOW.
For her, love developed more slowly, and over the course of a more traditional courtship, the couple became inseparable. This of course set Hollywood tongues a-wagging that the much-younger Rachelle was nothing more than a gold-digger. A notion she understands, but dispels with a girlish giggle when asked about what she finds attractive in her husband.
“I like the way he looks,” she says. “He’s boyish and cute, witty, smart and we are so much alike even though we are generations apart. We share common interests, a love of music, people, life, old films, a strong work ethic, even certain mannerisms.”
As you can see, Rachelle is not a gold-digger, since it specifically states on her website that Rachelle is not a gold-digger. Not that any of you were thinking she’s a gold-digger, and I most certainly was not saying she’s a gold-digger, but just so we’re clear here, anyone that says Rachelle Short Spector is a gold-digger is flat out wrong. She just isn’t messing with a broke… gentleman.
More from her in-no-way-fabricated bio:
Rachelle Spector is a woman on a mission. Make that several missions. In June, she’ll release her debut CD Out of My Chelle, produced and arranged by legendary music maestro, Phil Spector. It is his first album project in more than 30 years and the first collaboration for this husband and wife team.
Out of My Chelle, on the independent label Genius 4Ever Records, is a contemporary, mainstream, adult pop record—the perfect vehicle for Rachelle’s effervescent vocal and her unfailingly upbeat, positive demeanor.
“She’s fantastic on this album,” Spector says of his wife. “She sings better than anyone else could have! I trusted her with my life and songs and production–because she’s that good.”
Mrs. Spector knows that more than a few eyebrows are likely to be raised at the thought of her musical endeavors given the sensational circumstances of her husband’s murder trial, his current incarceration and the couple’s much-scrutinized relationship. But Rachelle is determined to have success and be recognized on her own terms.
There are several things that are horribly, horribly wrong about Phil’s quote there, but let’s just focus on the statement that Rachelle sings better than anyone else. So, out of all the singers in the entire world, she was the best he could find. Okay, maybe he meant female singers. To cut him even more slack, let’s say he was only referring to contemporary female pop/rock singers. Even within that category, which includes vocalists like Björk, Peaches, Kate Bush, PJ Harvey, Aimee Mann, Alison Goldfrapp, Charlotte Gainsbourg, Grace Jones, Diamanda Galás and Perry Farrell, they just don’t cut the mustard. No, Phil has higher standards, and will settle for nothing less than a 40-year-old Britney Spears impersonator.
Oh, wait, her website says she’s 30. I’m sorry, my mistake.
I’ll admit that this tweet made me a little curious:
Wow, that’s pretty impressive (and just think, Rachelle, now you can add Buddyhead to that illustrious list)! Here’s a quote from the glowing article in USA Today:
Rolling Stone contributing editor Anthony DeCurtis describes the songs as “frothy pop music” and “very competent, reasonably entertaining tracks.”
“I don’t necessarily hear anything here that extends Phil Spector’s legacy,” DeCurtis says. “If you had played (the songs) for me independent of my knowing who produced them, I would not have identified them as Phil Spector productions.”
The disc is largely credited to Spector and Graham Ward, who is listed as an engineer on every track.
Spector once famously described his music as “little symphonies for the kids.” This album, DeCurtis says, “seems to lack that ambition.”
Yet even without the unfortunate turns Spector’s life has taken, any expectations that he could recapture his past glory might not be realistic, DeCurtis says. “How many times do you really get to make history? Michael Jackson crucified himself attempting to re-create Thriller.”
That’s great! You go girl! I wasn’t able to find anything about Rachelle in Time or Billboard, but if their coverage was as full of praise as this, she’ll be a huge megastar in no time. I sure hope so for her sake, otherwise she’ll have let a psychotic septuagenarian convicted murderer put his old, shriveled penis in her for nothing.
