Published on Aug 21, 1997
At the height of his career, George Carlin was to the comedy
world what Howard Stern is to radio today: the bastard child who
had the courage to say what was on his mind, even if it went
against what was popular at the time. In fact, Carlin’s own battles
against obscenity (the classic “Seven Words You Can Never Say On
Television”) mirrors some of the struggles Stern has had with the
FCC.
Carlin has always been a master social critic, and a collection
of his early work,
Classic Gold, is evidence of that skill, as well as his
humor.
The two-disc set is a re-packaging of Carlin’s first three
albums,
FM & AM,
Class Clown and
Occupation: Foole. (I remember that my dad had
FM & AM when I was a small child; he had to keep the
record on a high shelf in a closet to keep me from it.) You can
hear Carlin’s reputation grow as he moves from playing a small
venue (
FM & AM) to finding out he won a Grammy while on stage
in front of a larger audience (
Occupation: Foole). But while his audience grew, so did his
caustic wit and criticism of the Vietnam War.
You do have to keep an open mind when listening to some of his
bits. “I Used To Be Irish Catholic” tells of his split with
Catholicism, though he handles the subject tastefully (being a
Roman Catholic, I wasn’t offended). And you’ll definitely want to
keep the kids away for some of the routines, especially “Seven
Words You Can Never Say On Television.” (It is interesting to note
that, 25 years later, the list still is accurate.)
Carlin manages to re-create some of the characters he did on
early variety show programs on vinyl, such as the hippie-dippy
weatherman Al Sleet (“Tonight’s forecast – dark.”) It’s at monents
like this that Carlin can have you laughing uncontrollably. Other
characters, like the DJ Scott Lame on “Wonderful WINO”, seem to run
endlessly, and would have been better had they been shorter.
And while a great deal of the material tends to be tame by
today’s standards, Carlin was often seen as “the enemy” for saying
things that he did in the early ’70s. He had the courage to joke
about drugs and criticize America’s presence in Vietnam – actions
which occasionally lost him jobs. As for the language – again, tame
by today’s standards. Hell, at least Carlin tried to provide some
background on the words rather than using them incessantly. But the
country in 1971 was just getting over Lenny Bruce; they weren’t
ready for another aural attack on their sensibilities.
The “Class Clown” routine, to me, is the highlight of
Classic Gold, and is part of the album of the same title
which won Carlin a Grammy for best comedy album. While you can’t
see what he’s doing, the sounds he makes paint a vivid picture, and
will have you teary-eyed with laughter. Carlin stretches it a
little too long by continuing it on portions of
Occupation: Foole material without providing a smooth segue
into it. In fact, there are portions of
Occupation: Foole that sound like Carlin is just exhausted
with the whole role he was playing.
The only other negative with this album is that some of the
material is quite dated. I remember “Let’s Make A Deal” quite well;
younger listeners may wonder what Carlin is rambling about.
However, if you take portions like this with a grain of salt,
they’re not so bad.
I normally would want to take a CD like this and do three
separate reviews – one for each album that makes it up. However,
I’ll make an exception with
Classic Gold and recommend it in the package it’s in. The
three albums are natural progressions of one another, and are an
intregal portion of Carlin’s career. After numerous listenings,
it’s sometimes hard to separate the material into albums. That –
and the fact this stuff is still funny 25 years after he performed
it – is testament enough to the power of Carlin.