Underappreciated Geniuses, Volume 3: Mickey Katz

Novelty records typically don't have a long shelf life, for the simple reason that they don't remain interesting for all that long; hence the term novelty. A rare few have the capacity to captivate over the long term. Such are the recordings of Mickey Katz, a clarinetist and singer who made his name singing Jewish novelties in a mish mosh of English and Yiddish.

Katz studied his craft with the novelty master of his day, Spike Jones. He played clarinet in Jones' City Slickers, also providing ethnic accents and some pretty astonishing cartoonish sound effects. By the time he was ready to strike out on his own, Katz was fully outfitted for a career singing songs with titles like "Duvid Crockett, King of Delancy Street," "Pesach in Portugal," "I'm a Schlemiel of Fortune," and "Ver is Mein Pants?"

Katz sings in a voice that would undoubtedly be characterized as anti-Semitic if it came out of a non-Jew. "Oy, listen how he mocks us!" would not be an inappropriate response. But coming from Katz, the exaggerated accent, the over-the-top nasal tone, and the corny Yiddish jokes sound as natural and as kosher as a black comedian's dropping of the n-bomb, or, for that matter, Jackie Mason's ripping on Jews.

Katz' material consists primarily of parodies of contemporary hits, "Jewish-ified" with cultural touchstones (lots of references to knishes, gefilte fish, and blintzes), ethnic stereotypes (brash women, henpecked husbands), and frequent klezmer breaks, all swinging hard and masterfully played. I have to admit that, for me, part of the charm of these records are the long passages that I don't understand because they're in Yiddish. I pick up bits and pieces, laugh at the delivery, and take my best guess at what it is that's so darn funny. Endless entertainment!

Katz' records are a testament to a time when Americans outside the mainstream fully embraced their 'otherness.' It's not a time I'd want to return to, because that communal solidarity was no doubt rooted in the realization that one's group was and would remain outside the mainstream, that its members would never belong to the fancy country clubs or eat at the starch-linen restaurants or hold seats in the US Senate. We're a better country than that now. And yet there's something very appealing about the joy with which Jews once celebrated their idiosyncrasies and their foibles, a joy to which these recordings give compelling testimony. If it's possible to be nostalgic for that without wanting to return to it, that's how I feel.

There are only two compilations of Katz' novelty records in print in the US: Greatest Schticks and Borscht Riders in the Sky. The mother lode is a UK two-disc set called Mish Mosh, but at 18£, it ain't cheap.