Nilsson 13: Sandman

The cover of Sandman is something of a joke; the front shows Harry Nilsson happily sitting on a beach, fully clothed, while the rear suggests he’s been eaten by a crab. (These photos were taken by his pal Mal Evans, the Beatle road manager who was tragically killed shortly before the album came out.) Inside the gatefold is something of a Victorian-style etching of what appears to be an impending shipwreck, with various of the album’s participants’ faces slipped in. Clearly, Harry loved comedy, but even humor that isn’t an in-joke can only be funny so far.

“I’ll Take A Tango” begins with admitting to an aversion to rock ‘n roll and electric guitars, while the barely danceable rhythm lists towards the edge of the deck depicted in the aforementioned gatefold. But it’s followed by “Something True”, the closest thing to the romantic splendor for which he first became famous, and a stunner. That slide guitar isn’t George Harrison’s, yet we wish it were. It’s only a momentary distraction, as he now informs us that “Pretty Soon There’ll Be Nothing Left For Everybody” over a busy samba beat. There’s a lot of reverb throughout the album, thankfully toned down on the a cappella college parody “The Ivy Colored Walls”—we’re guessing all those vocal parts are him—which crawls to a denouement without a clear punchline. Instead it’s right into the completely lazy “Here’s Why I Did Not Go To Work Today”, which on the label is the subtitle of “Thursday”.

Depending on who you are, the album’s high or low point is “The Flying Saucer Song”, which he’d been trying to record for three years. It’s predominantly a conversation over a lopey sax groove between two drunks at a bar, mediated by the bartender, and naturally he does all the voices. (Joe Cocker can be heard wailing in the background.) While it may not have been inspired by Cheech & Chong, it pales. For even more hilarity, “How To Write A Song” gives him another excuse to put “a—hole” into a song while providing the instructions over a canned cheering audience. He finally finishes “Jesus Christ You’re Tall” from the snippet on the last album, degenerating into a few minutes of scatting. “Will She Miss Me” is another big production with a romantic undercurrent, trilling strings everywhere.

Comedy albums were of course popular by the mid-‘70s, but that’s not the main reason why people liked Harry Nilsson. He clearly didn’t have enough songs in him anymore, which is too bad, since he didn’t have enough for a comedy album either.

Nilsson Sandman (1976)—2