I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating; some records are way more random than others. Today’s feature, a self-titled release by a group called Von Ryan’s Express, happens to be one of the more random records I own. I’ve owned it for over a decade, and even with the internet at my disposal, I still haven’t the foggiest idea who Von Ryan or his band-members are. For a short period of time I wasn’t even aware that he and his band were a band, since I erroneously assumed this album was a soundtrack to the 1965 Frank Sinatra film of the same name. That was before I actually listened to it, discovering a slickly produced and arranged, eclectically influenced, big-band Funk album.
Bookended by “Von Ryan’s Express No. 1 and 2,” it almost feels like a concept album, or maybe the soundtrack to a stage production of some kind. On these tracks the band lays down a chugging, train-imitating groove over which Von Ryan chants about the people on a train (surely a metaphor for the band itself, as well as the “train of life” that we all ride), and the things that keep the train rolling. The remaining songs could be seen as the stories of the train’s passengers, or the people, places and things the train passes as it makes its hypothetical journey. I’ve no idea if that was the band’s intent when they recorded the album, but its polished sound and melodramatic theatrical quality lends itself to visions of an accompanying theatrical performance.
While there are a few schmaltzy ballads on the LP I’m not necessarily a huge fan of, even if I respect the composing, and musicianship (the rhythmic change-up towards the end of “Until It’s Time For You To Go” is particularly praise-worthy) that went into them, the tunes that have found their way into my set-lists are the funkier uptempo numbers and the songs where Ryan’s storytelling and social consciousness shine. The a-side’s “Hard Luck,” “Allergic” and “Squat Pot” all fall into that category, but the James Brown-esque dance tune “Bushman” (which reminds me a lot of “There Was a Time”) and the indignant spoken-word piece “Belief” are my favorites, with “Belief” being a staple of my socially-conscious Funk sets. And at least one of the disc’s slower numbers, the string-laden hard-luck-reprise “Hard Luck Son of a Gun,” which calls to mind Clarence Carter’s “Patches” wrapped in a Sweet Soul package and transposed to the topic of romantic hardships rather than general ones, has also become a favorite.
Don’t get me wrong either, the downtempo selections aren’t necessarily “bad.” In fact, the previously mentioned “Until It’s Time…” and “(Who Am I) Without You” stand out for their luxuriant orchestration and vocal harmonies. There’s just something about Ryan’s baritone on these cuts that lends their more impassioned nature an slower pace an overwrought cheesiness, verging on Vegas lounge croonery. Then again, the theatricality of the record as a whole might come off that way to some.
-El Keter
