Pitchfork

From the right angle, Yo La Tengo Is Murdering the Classics is the funniest record in the world. At first the title only seems sarcastic-- when you listen to the album, it turns out it's just honest, if humorously so. The disc features Yo La Tengo and a few friends flat-out slaughtering other people's songs in on-air performances during WFMU fundraisers. It makes sense that this collection of bootleg-quality recordings of unrehearsed covers would be associated with WFMU, given the freeform radio station's legendary penchant for incorrect and outsider music, and the saving grace of the whole thing is that no one involved is taking it remotely seriously.

The deal is this: The members of Yo La Tengo were trying to think of a way they could help their favorite radio station (it, like the band, is located in Northeast New Jersey, although you can tune in from anywhere in the world via their website). Then it struck them that they could perform requests live on the air in exchange for pledges of support. The trick was that they had to play each request on the spot, with no rehearsal or time to remember little things like, say, lyrics. They did it first in 1996, and it's since become a hugely entertaining annual tradition. Gathering requested covers from 1996-2003, Murdering is temporarily charming and fun, but inevitably, its 30 tracks (over 76 minutes!) are a gruelling slog.

To be fair, the band members know music inside and out, as the well-rehearsed covers that populate their records (covers album Fakebook, in particular) and concerts demonstrate. Additionally, they have a jazzier sensibility than most rock bands, so interpretation isn't beyond them. But those hoping for anything even close to the ballpark of their studio albums clearly haven't read the warnings all over the band's own website, which kindly inform prospective listeners not to expect much. Besides, they do have a proper album planned for later this year.

What I'm getting at is, should you order the disc, you're not really buying a Yo La Tengo album. You're not even buying a live album. You're buying a comedy record, for all intents. The bit where Ira Kaplan forgets the second verse of Three Dog Night's "Mama Told Me (Not to Come)", and wisecracks about the band's singer, is great-- though not nearly as funny as the version of Archie Bell & the Drells' "Tighten Up" that opens the album. Kaplan's exhortations to "tighten up on the drums now, Georgia" are so hilariously geeky they actually sort of work, and both he and fellow guitarist Bruce Bennet (who joined the band for these fundraisers) accidentally come in when Kaplan calls for the bass. James McNew doesn't exactly know the bassline anyway, but he gives it his best shot.

There are a few songs Yo La Tengo really nail, like the Modern Lovers' "Roadrunner", which Ira spikes with a blistering guitar solo. It's also fitting that they'd turn in a competent rendition of NRBQ's "Captain Lou", given that the cult band's cover-request shows were the inspiration for Yo La Tengo's own fundraising appearances. And I honestly cannot believe how well Kaplan remembers the verse lyrics to Huey "Piano" Smith's "Sea Cruise"-- never mind Doug Sahm's "Mendocino". On the opposite end of the spectrum, the band's take on Yes' "Roundabout" is side-splittingly inept, with someone basically leaning on an organ to approximate Rick Wakeman, while the version of Bachman-Turner Overdrive's "You Ain't Seen Nothing Yet" is just plain ghastly (and yet considerably less annoying than the original).

Unsurprisingly, the album's best moments are attributable to inspired listener requests. By far the most imaginative of these is the old promotional song "Meet the Mets", a jingle advertising New York's less appreciated baseball franchise. What's more impressive is that the band actually knows all the words to it. Later, recalling their Genius + Love collaboration with Daniel Johnston on his "Speeding Motorcycle", a young caller named Lela sings "Route 66" over the phone while the band plays softly in the background. It's so genuinely sweet that the band's uncertaintly over the chord sequence doesn't much matter. But again, while these are great moments on the air, they don't exactly translate to replay value, so the disc, packaged inside Adrian Tomine's fantastic artwork, becomes just a keepsake for fans of the band and WFMU (or anyone who ever wanted to hear the Knack, the Beach Boys, Sonic Youth, and Bonzo Dog Band in the same ramshackle medley).

In short, this is the kind of thing that would have been a fan-club disc back in the 90s. There's nothing wrong with that, of course, but much as I love Yo La Tengo, WFMU (possibly the greatest radio station in existence, by the way), and the general idea, it's difficult to give this a genuine recommendation. Instead, save your money for next year's WFMU fundraiser: Tune in, make a pledge, request a song, and brace yourself. It's for a good cause.