Picks and Pans Review: The Annette Funicello Country Album
Hardly a red-blooded American male between 30 and 45 has not at one time or other had a crush on Annette—she didn't need the "Funicello" back in her Spin and Marty, Beach Blanket Bingo days. She comes into this, her first record in nearly 20 years, with a tremendous reserve of residual affection. She'll need it. The best thing to be said about this album is that she doesn't sound as if she's singing with a mouthful of peanut butter. She does, however, sound as if she's singing with a clothespin on her nose. She was no doubt trying hard but never has Orange Blossom Special sounded so poky, The Race Is On so muddy or Paper Roses so colorless. And The Promised Land, which Funicello wrote with Glen Holt, is an embarrassing musical family tale about moving from "Sin City in the East to the City of the Angels." Sorry, Annette; you're sweet, and you can get us to buy just about anything, but there are limits. (Starview)
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