(Courgette)

www.courgetterecords.com

The shelf-life for satire/parody albums can be perilously brief; either the topics becomes hackneyed or out of date, or the jokes simply aren't all that funny anymore. And regarding the performers themselves, for every "Weird Al" Yankovic, there's probably a dozen acts like Richard Cheese & Lounge Against The Machine (who?). Ultra-topical parodies probably take it on the chin worse than others; as great as those National Lampoon comedy albums from the ‘70s were at the time, most of them, such as 1974's Watergate dissection The Missing White House Tapes, sound pretty dated now. (One notable exception: Woodstock sendup Lemmings, which posited that the so-called counterculture was "a mighty mass of furry little mindless animals." Tinker slightly with characters, locales and music, and it could easily be updated to apply to the Pitchfork generation of hoodie-clad, laptop-rocking hipsters.)

Harry Shearer certainly has a few NatLamp LPs in his collection. And in 2008, he just might be one of the few individuals on the planet who has not only the long-lens perspective but also the comedic chops to pull off a satire aimed at a very, very specific target. On his latest album Songs of the Bushmen (Courgette; www.courgetterecords.com) the esteemed actor/author/radio host/Simpsons voice/Spinal Tap bassist brings a killer shark-like instinct for his subjects' weaknesses, circling various current and former denizens of the White House as they flounder helplessly in the waning waters of the Bush administration's final days.

The musical impeachment kicks off with a number "dedicated to the ensemble," a takeoff on the classic coal miners' song "16 Tons" done up Howlin' Wolf-styled blues (right down to Shearer's Wolf/Beefheart/Waits lead growl). The singer posits that "a think tank did the counting/ the number still could rise/ totaled what we were told before the war/ 935 lies/ 935 falsehoods/ told by our leading guys" and how "in a year and a half we swallowed" those lies whole.

From there Shearer, armed to the teeth with more voice impressions than Rich Little, steers his Humvee past 1600 Pennsylvania for a series of drive-bys impressive even by Tupac or Biggie standards. Among the fatalities:

• Former Secretary of State Colin Powell ("Smooth Moves"), who in an interior monologue, against a backdrop of ersatz lite-pop-jazz (waitaminnit, Shearer got Tom Scott to play those hokey sax lines, it IS lite-pop-jazz!), bemoans how he was marginalized by Dubya - "I played with the grownups / and it wasn't the same/ they snapped a big towel/  at the doctrine of Powell" - but vows, in a silky-smooth, playa voice, to "keep on rollin'" just the same. L'il Pow, hangin' with his homies from the ‘hood, yo.
• Current Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice ("Gym Buds"), awesomely portrayed  by Shearer's spouse Judith Owen as a showtune/opera diva with a Beethoven fetish, reciting a woeful yarn of unrequited love: Just when she thought she'd earned Bush's ear for good, "the very next thing that I knew, it all fell through/ very true/ Cheney's folks surrounded him/ worked their whim."
• Former Attorney General Alberto Gonzales ("The Head of Alberto Gonzales"), who gets a proper Mariachi sendoff - Calexico should consider covering this - as he reflects, in a pinched, nasally tone, on his brief White House tenure: detainees, Gitmo, the fired prosecutors scandal, the subsequent hearings ("I gave an example of what total lack of recall is/ There's no memory in the head of Alberto Gonzalez"), etc. It's not often one gets to hear "recall is" and "solace" rhyming with "Gonzalez" but somehow Shearer makes it sound as easy as falling out of bed.
• Weasel-in-Chief Karl Rove ("Turd Blossom Special"), showing his heretofore Appalachian roots in a kind of fiddle-and-banjo hoedown, as he, too, gazes longingly over his shoulder. "He called me turd blossom, that's what he liked to do/ I called him the boss, and that amused him too/ We built a majority that would last for years to come/ But the war refused to end, and the man who was the boss/ soon became the bum." (Who knew that it was possible to channel Rove, Johnny Cash and Jed Clampett all at once?)

Musically speaking, at least for all you rock fans out there - and mindful of what makes a parody especially effective - the album's high point just might be "Who Is Yoo?" a Weird Al-worthy recasting of, you guessed it, the Who's "Who Are You?"

John Choon Yoo, in case anyone has forgotten, was the Cali law professor who helped draft sections of the Patriot Act and penned assorted memos for the White House in which he advocated the use of torture in interrogations and how so-called "enemy combatants" could legally be denied Geneva Convention protections. Sample of Shearer's lyrics: "You got you some detainees/ you don't know what to do/ do you read them their Miranda rights/ or cover them with poo?" We'll take "poo," Alex, for $100! Dig that signature chugging synth riff! Those power chords! Those "hoo-ooo, ooo-hoo" backing vocals! (Trivia note: Brian Wilson's collaborator Jeffrey Foskett helped arranged the song and pitched in with Shearer on those vocals, while legendary guitarist Skunk Baxter provided the Townshendesque axe riffs.) Okay, I lied; I'm not sure how often I actually want to hear this song, and I might need to fling some ‘oo poo at Shearer if I do hear it too often, because it's pretty damn catchy, and to paraphrase pop philosopher David St. Hubbins, it's such a fine line between catchy and annoying. But I digress.

Like many of us, sometime during the past eight years Shearer realized that the "axis of evil" didn't point towards Iran, Iraq or North Korea - it could be found right in our backyard, in Washington, DC. Ever fancy seeing what Rove, Rummy, Powell, Cheney, Dubya, John Bolton, et al might look like being dragged out of shark-infested waters with only bloody stumps where limbs previously were? Shearer's got eleven snapshots from his summer vacation he wants to share with you.

Shearer knows, of course, that in another eight years Songs of the Bushmen may be regarded with the same quaint but fading affection that an earlier generation held for the NatLamp Watergate album. But that's beside the point. Good satire and parody's supposed to make you laugh - and think - now, not after the fact. Apparently the album struck a nerve even before it was widely available; Clear Channel refused to take any Bushmen ads for its outdoor digital ad boards because of the cover depiction of President Bush. (Some bloggers took exception too: "Imagine if Shearer had a photo of Obama with a bone through his nose," sniffed one uptight web pundit.) Speaking to the New York Post in June, Shearer observed, "Their tone turned from genial salesperson to angry schoolmarm - ‘This is unacceptable.' And it's not like this is a dangerous time to criticize George Bush." Later, in an interview for the New York Times Magazine, Shearer reflected on the image, musing, "It looks like it could be a tibia. I would say it is a leg bone, but I am not a doctor... He looks like the bone is very comfortably fitted in there."

At any rate here's hoping people don't forget too soon, because we're going to be living with the nightmarish damage George W. Bush did to our nation for a long fucking time.

Standout Tracks: "Who Is Yoo?," "935 Lies" "No Cooler for the Scooter" FRED MILLS

[Note to consumers: although physical promotional copies of the Shearer CD were pressed up - try eBay - the album is currently available via digital retailers such as Amazon and iTunes]