The oddity of Ed Sullivan’s ‘Really Big Hits’ album
When you think about all of the significant chat shows and variety shows to have been broadcast on our television sets, there aren’t many of greater importance or cultural influence than The Ed Sullivan Show.
Aside from being a conduit for live entertainment who introduced The Beatles to American audiences for the first time with their famous 1964 debut on his show, Sullivan was also executive producing curious compilation albums, hand-picking his favourite songs to be performed by a band under his name.
Not only was he determined to use his show as a means of showing off his knowledge and love of music, but he saw fit to release what is ostensibly an early mixtape of sorts, taking well-known hits from the heyday of his show and transforming them into elaborate big band pieces and easy-listening oddities.
The Ed Sullivan Singers and Orchestra released three albums over a short span of time in the early 1970s, but out of this slim catalogue, the one that stands out in as the most curious of the bunch is Really Big Hits, a veritable mishmash of songs that Sullivan clearly has an affinity for, and it’s anyone’s guess as to who the target audience is other than the man himself.
Depending on where in the world you are, Really Big Hits is nine to eleven songs on its various regionally different versions, and while the tracks are evidently taken from only a few years prior to the album’s release, the style in which they are performed with a full orchestra feels somewhat out of touch with the rapidly changing styles of pop music. Considering how this was released in 1968, during a period where records of this ilk were declining in popularity, it feels instantly antiquated in its delivery, and yet, this is exactly why there’s such an undeniable charm about it.
Sullivan clearly wanted to hear this music being made, and wanted the very specific tracklist, which ranges from themes from films such as Doctor Doolittle, Thoroughly Modern Millie and Valley of the Dolls, to not commonly covered tracks from The 5th Dimension, Gary Puckett and Engelbert Humperdinck.
The back cover of the record’s sleeve has a short blurb written by Sullivan himself, where he goes into vague detail about his selection process, arguably provoking more questions from baffled listeners who can’t wrap their heads around the thought process. “There is no need to go into any detail about the songs in this album,” Sullivan boldly claimed, “Just a mere look at the titles will evoke memories of the great times you spent listening to them. I have chosen them carefully from a list of my own favourites, and the chorus and orchestra have done beautifully by them.”
He then goes on to credit the quality of the sound of the record, claiming that it will “come right out of the speakers and involve you completely” with the grandiosity of the chorus and orchestra before making the bold assertion: “I know you will enjoy every one of them”.
The thing is, to a contemporaneous audience, these songs might not have meant a great deal, and the fact that the record remains a curiosity rather than a hit album suggests that very few people took note of the release. It’s not as though it has even become a collector’s item, with physical copies of the record being sold for less than £3 on online marketplaces, but at the same time, it’s also a charming presentation of what Sullivan was all about: championing the music that he loved.
