WWF, Early 90’s
Hey, did you hear? WWE is coming out with yet another collection of entrance themes. WWE: The Music Volume 853 will feature the theme music of Randy Orton, John Cena, and a bunch of scrubs who will no doubt be let go by the time the disc makes to Best Buy shelves. But even as horribly generic as today’s WWE entrance themes have become, you can rest assured that this won’t be the worst CD of all time from the company.
No no – there is but one album that can make that claim: Wrestlemania: The Album. Show of hands – who wanted to hear the Undertaker sing? Anyone up for a touching Bret Hart ballad? Or a rap by Jim Duggan? Well, the hits just kept a comin’ in this fiasco on plastic, released in 1993.
Ok, you look at that picture and you more or less expect a catastrophe of Biblical proportions. And you’re not disappointed, as things hit the crapper within the first ten seconds of the very first song. On the title track, the wrong event is identified. An announcer (who sounds vaguely like Roddy Piper) asks if we’re ready for the Survivor Series. The rest of the song (complete with ‘singing’ by the WWF Superstars) is about Wrestlemania. HUH?!
Next up is the track Summerslam Jam, which is more or less identical to the first track, but this one is about SummerSlam (and even correctly identifies its event). Yeah, it sucks, but any tune with a singing Undertaker is cool with me. The only problem is the background singers seem to be singing “Slim Jim”, not “Slam Jam”. Subliminal message, anyone?
Just when you think things can’t possibly get worse, here comes Hacksaw Jim Duggan with the rousing USA. In this clip, Hacksaw properly pronounces the word “apprehensive” (well, more or less) and pledges allegiance in his own special way to America. “Horrible” doesn’t even seem to come close to describing this track; it’s so bad that after hearing it I bet even Uncle Sam would take a flamethrower to Old Glory.
Next up, we have the dulcet tones of the Janet Jackson ripoff Nasty Boys Stomp, in which Brian Knobbs yells at the listener. Ah yes, very soothing. If you ever wondered why Brian Knobbs would be my first choice to do a WrestleCrap book on tape, there’s your answer.
Every album needs a sappy ballad, and who better to deliver it than Bret Hart? Well, just about anyone, as I’m sure you’ll agree after listening to Hart serenade us with Never Been a Right Time to Say Goodbye. In what must be the lowlight of his career, the Hitman proves himself the excellence of ear execution.
Things come around, though, as the Undertaker sings again. You know, any song where Mark Calloway implores me to “dance the Taker” really does deserves a spot on your iPod. And just for fun, Taker even throws in a nice message for the kiddies. People often ask me why I don’t like Undertaker. All I can say is that if he resumed his singing career, he’d immediately shoot to the top of my list.
It’s an astronomy lesson next, as Randy Savage then shows up to recite the planet order of the solar system. Or something. Speaking from the Heart is great not only because of Savage’s nonsensical ramblings, but also because the background singers call him MATCH-O man, as in a book of Blue Tip Matches. Listen closely, and you can also hear Hacksaw doing a “HOOOO!” in the background for no apparent reason.
No WWF album would be complete without some stereotypical tuneage, and this time it’s good old Chris Chavis’ turn on the bottom of the totem pole. Listen toTatanka Native America just once, and I guaran-damn-tee you won’t be able to stop yelling “TATANKA! BUFFALO!” I know I haven’t. In fact, some days it’s all I say the entire day.
The UK version of the album contains a heart warming ditty from Crush (Bryan Adams) which sounds as though it was performed by Herbie Nocock. In the song, Crush warns kids to stay away from drugs. Maybe it’s just me, but that seems kinda hypocritical coming from a guy who’d go on to form a tag team named Kronik (you know, slang for marijuana) whose finisher was known as the High Times.
I know a lot of folks have looked high and low for this pile of crap. All I can say is that if you hunt down a copy, don’t blame me. Blame Simon Cowell. Yes, that Simon Cowell, he of American Idol. The high & mighty Simon was no less than the executive producer on this fiasco. (And thanks to fellow Crappers Michael and Ryan for pointing that out to me.)
One can only hope and pray that one day, Simon finds a sense of self depricating humor and has a very special edition of Idol in which contestants sing tracks from Wrestlemania: The Album.
After all, I may not pay to see that ghost-scarecrow hybrid Clay Aiken do much, but if he’s belting out Speaking from the Heart, I’ll pay whatever it takes to get front row seats.