One Thousand Pennies

In a better world, listeners could send Canadian singer Norman Foote over to the Middle East for musical peace talks. In that world they would not be necessary anyway, except as a deterrent to heart and soul pollution. If comparing his music to world peace doesn't entice you to fork over 1,000 (or so) pennies for 1,000 Pennies, read no further. The album is a blooming concoction of celestial goofiness and calm. Rainbow-colored strokes pour from front to back on the album's cover, making an appropriate choice for Foote's sixth album, which plays like a summer daydream for its running time of just over 30 minutes. In addition to instruments like the accordion, penny whistle, harmonica, and mandolin, Foote goes where few, if any, musicians have gone before, turning the sound of dropping pennies into an equally effective instrument on the addictive Celtic title track. He also plays his own guitar like a pro, despite the photo appearance of a giddy child who has just picked one up for the first time. There is an old-fashioned charm running amok here, especially through streets of pop and light jazz, that one would be hard-pressed to find on most children's albums. While Kenny Loggins has reinvented classics with his Pooh Corner albums, Foote is at the forefront of kids' music because he writes good songs that haven't been heard before. Some are suited for smaller children, such as "Snuggle Up" and "Loose Tooth." Some are for everyone, such as "Let's Sing a Song" and "Think of Something Good." He experiments with space opera on the tracks "Lost Umbrellas and Odd Socks" and "Circus Boy." On one hand, these two songs would work better with a visual backdrop since they display an air of surrealism. On the other, they require children to pay attention and use MTV's nemesis number one: their own imagination. "Circus Boy" seems too short, maybe because the song splits and shifts melodies together, and the best part, "That's my mommy and that's my pop/Here we are together underneath the big top," plays only once. Foote might be able to fix that during his popular concert tours or remake it for a future album. He has already done so with "When I Grow Up," which is a remake of his self-penned "Singing Policeman." Rejuvenated with a more accessible title, it makes a much greater impact this time around with windy choral effects. Once again, Foote serves up a solid package of entertainment, but after six albums there is a curious thought wavering overhead — he has yet to release a masterpiece. It will come, in prediction, in the form of either an album targeted toward adults or a children's album that focuses entirely on songs which are universal in terms of age. Past songs like "Love Is a Little Word," "Magic Penny," and the best tracks on this album — "Deeper Than the Deep Blue" and "Where the Blackberries Grow" — are perfect examples. There is a definitive feeling of warmth when the album closes with, "The summer is half over/The sun's high in the sky/That's how I remember the end of July." The reason listeners love Norman Foote is cemented in the beautiful music and cheery lyrics of this short verse. With all due respect, Raffi may have had his day.