Though �Knnillssonn" supposedly ends Harry Nilsson's American discography, there's another item, a little-known one-off album for Mercury/Phonogram that was recorded in Los Angeles and released in Great Britain but apparently not in the U.S. This would be �Flash Harry" -- the English nickname for a snappy dresser, which at this time, Harry was notoriously not. Surrounded by his pals and many crack L.A. sessionmen and guests, with Steve Cropper behind the production controls, Nilsson seems to struggle to stay interested in this project, conserving his cigarettes-and-alcohol-ravaged voice, collaborating on some new songs but often relying upon others for material. He doesn't even appear on the leadoff track; instead Eric Idle and Charlie Dore open the album with Idle's happy-go-lucky ode to �Harry." �Cheek To Cheek" soon dissolves in faux-Mexicanisms,�Rain" experiments amiably with a reggae groove, �I've Got It!" is another of those nutty late-period Nilsson doodlings, this time apparently about a transaction with a hooker. As a reminder of his friendship with then-retired John Lennon, Nilsson covers �Old Dirt Road" in a somewhat strangled voice; in any case, it's not much of a song (Nilsson had a hand in the lyrics), nor does he cast it in a different light from Lennon's own version. Another ex-Beatle buddy, Ringo Starr, plays drums on the album and collaborates with Nilsson on the relaxed reggae tune �How Long Can Disco On" -- whose title is easily the cleverest thing about the track. The best tune of all is the closer -Nilsson's lazily loping singalong cover of Idle's wickedly ironic �The Bright Side Of Life" (from �The Life Of Brian"), which has tripping orchestral trappings that harken back to Nilsson's first RCA recordings with George Tipton. On that cheery note, Nilsson bowed out of the recording studio until the early `90s, when, only three days before his death, he allegedly put the finishing touches on one last album that as of 2003 had yet to see release. ~ Richard S. Ginell, All Music Guide
Realizing that he had nothing left to lose when he got to the end of his RCA contract, Harry Nilsson wound up recording his best, most distinctive record since Pussy Cats, maybe, Son of Schmilsson. Abandoning the very idea of a mainstream pop album is just the beginning of his conceptual coup here with Knnillssonn. Recording almost all of the sounds with keyboards and guitars, Nilsson also decided to drive the guitars into the background. In some ways, this may make it similar to A Little Touch of Schmilsson in the Night, but instead of being a standards record, this is all new material, written in a classical pop style and delivered in a slightly modernistic fashion. The result is an album that's out of step with its time and with the era's music in general. With its old-fashioned pop sensibility and weirdly out of sync production, plus Nilsson's trademark clever songsmithery and impish humor, Knnillssonn is a pop album like no other. It has his best set of songs in many a year, and the production is fascinating, yet at times it sounds like he's trying a little too hard. Still, there are brilliant moments, whether it's a tune as seductive as "All I Think About Is You" or the Agatha Christie murder mystery salute "Who Done It?" For all the cultists who struggled with, and at times embraced, his years of uneven records, this is their reward: an album that may only appeal to a small audience, but that satisfies their every desire about what an album from their favorite artist should be. [Originally released in 1977, Knnillssonn was reissued with bonus tracks in 2002.]~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
Nilsson started going off the tracks at Pussy Cats, but his descent into sheer, unhinged lunacy became apparent with Sandman, his second album of 1975. It was easy to view Duit on Mon Dei as transitory, but this proves that it was a transition to craziness and cultdom. At this point, he was abandoned by Lennon, left alone in L.A. and Nilsson just didn't care. He continued to roam, rampage, and record, ensconcing himself in his own world of in-jokes, Tin Pan Alley melodies, soft rock, clever wit, and sheer drunkenness. Check the cover: on the front, he has a bottle of wine between his legs, on the back he's overcome by a sand crab. On the album itself, he repudiates rock & roll, realizes "Pretty Soon There'll Be Nothing Left for Everybody," has a drunken conversation with himself (so extreme that he's thrown out of the bar), explains why he did not go to work today, writes an ode to flying saucers, offers cheekily literal instructions on how to write a song and then covers a song from the last album. Melodically, he's still strong, but the gleeful craziness overwhelms the pretty music and accessible production, resulting in an album that makes Son of Schmilsson and Pussy Cats seem normal, which may only signal just how far away from the mainstream Nilsson was at this point. But, in a way, he was still brilliant -- these are exceptional recordings, and his warped sense of humor is funnier than its ever been. That's not to say that Sandman is an easy record -- you have to not only accept Nilsson's quirks, but embrace them more than his talents to love this album -- but if your head is properly calibrated, this is one to treasure. [Originally released in 1975, Sandman was reissued with a bonus track in 2002.] ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
Well, what do you expect from an artist who's reading Penthouse, surrounded by liquor bottles and cigarettes, on the cover of his album? Perfection? Accessibility? Sanity? Well, you ain't gonna get that from Nilsson, a man who left sanity behind shortly after he entered the mainstream with Nilsson Schmilsson. Instead, you get a record from an artist who's just at the fringe of popular culture, not really caring if he has a hit, but not really wanting to be so weird that he's just a cult. Realizing all of this, the artist also knows that he doesn't need to try so hard -- he can be as lazy as he looks on the cover. So, that means That's the Way It Is is essentially a covers record, with songs ranging from material penned by longtime favorite Randy Newman ("Sail Away") to longtime fan George Harrison ("That Is All") to oldies ("Just One Look/Baby I'm Yours") to obscurities ("She Sits Down on Me" and "Zombie Jamboree"). Only two original songs then: the faux-reggae "Moonshine Bandit" and "Daylight Has Caught Me," co-written by Dr. John. Everything's given a rather lush, but not particularly sleek, treatment placing it closer to soft rock than to the unabashed cult rock that Nilsson was producing at this point. So, this winds up being an album that's not as gleefully weird and funny as its predecessors and yet is stranger because of that. Because, for chrissakes, who wants this album? It doesn't have enough perversity or indulgence for those who treasure his weirdness, but it's way too idiosyncratic and odd for anyone who might like the L.A.-style vibe. Not a bad record, really, but certainly not a very good one, even by latter-day Nilsson standards. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
More tongue-in-cheek wordplay from Harry Nilsson. The album was originally titled God's Greatest Hits, but powers that be persuaded Nilsson to change it. His voice as well as his talent for writing catchy tunes was wearing thin here, and as with previous efforts, nothing stands out like his earlier material. Duit On Mon Dei is an artist on the wane. ~ James Chrispell, All Music Guide
The relationship between Harry Nilsson and John Lennon is legendary. They were notorious booze hounds and carousers, getting kicked out of clubs for misbehavior and generally terrorizing L.A. during Lennon's "lost weekend" of 1974. They wanted to make an album together -- hell, anyone working at such a peak would -- and the result was Pussy Cats, a Nilsson album produced by Lennon. Almost immediately, Nilsson got sick, resulting in a ruptured vocal cord. Not wanting Lennon to stop the sessions, Nilsson never told his friend, stubbornly working his way through the sessions until he lost his voice entirely. These are the sessions that make up Pussy Cats, an utterly bewildering record that's more baffling than entertaining. Like many superstar projects of its time, this is studded with contributions from friends and studio musicians, all intent on having a good time in the studio -- which usually means hammering out rock & roll oldies. In this case, it meant both Dylan's "Subterranean Homesick Blues" and the children's song "Loop de Loop," which gives a good idea where Nilsson was at. Through its messiness, Pussy Cats winds up showing how he and Lennon violently careened between hedonism and self-loathing. Of the new songs, the inadvertently revealing "All My Life" is the strongest, followed by the sweet "Don't Forget Me," yet this is more about tone than substance. It's about hearing Nilsson's voice getting progressively harsher, as the backing remains appealingly professional and slick. It doesn't quite jibe, and it's certainly incoherent, but that's its charm. It may not be as wild as the lost weekend itself, but it couldn't have been recorded at any other time and remains a fascinating aural snapshot of the early days of 1974. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
This was a soundtrack to the movie Nilsson made with Ringo Starr. Eerily gothic in nature, the music was a mishmash of some of Harry's familiar songs, along with the usual soundtrack instrumentals. Highlight of this set is the fantastic, rockin' "Daybreak." As with all movie soundtracks, if you loved the movie, the soundtrack makes a nifty souvenir, but it's really intermittently good. ~ James Chrispell, All Music Guide
Nilsson was nearly a decade ahead of Linda Ronstadt and other nouveau crooners in hiring a conductor/arranger of the pre-rock era (in this case Gordon Jenkins) and recording an album of standards before a full orchestra. And he did it better than most, proving to be a marvelous interpreter of songs like "What'll I Do?" and "Makin' Whoopee!" His version of "As Time Goes By" became a minor hit. ~ William Ruhlmann, All Music Guide