Alright, let’s rip into this one. English Martyrs School Band And Orchestra—a name that sounds like it was slapped together during recess—dropped their self-titled album in 1978 under H.A.V. Records. Yeah, you read that right. A school band and orchestra cut an LP back when vinyl still ruled the world. Conducted by some dude named J.D. Harris (props for showing up), this thing is a wild ride through classical covers, pop hits, and random bits of cinematic cheese. It's chaotic, messy, and somehow oddly charming.
First off, kudos to whoever thought tossing "Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head" next to "Battle Hymn Of The Republic" was a good idea. Spoiler: it wasn’t. But hey, they tried. Now, I gotta shout out two tracks that stuck with me because, honestly, most of this feels like background noise at your grandma’s bingo night.
Track 1: “Persian March.” Oh man, this one hits different. You know those old-timey cartoons where Bugs Bunny dresses up as a sultan and causes chaos? That’s what this track screams. The horns blare so loud you’d think someone dropped a trombone down the stairs. It’s over-the-top dramatic but weirdly fun. Like eating candy while yelling at pigeons—it shouldn’t work, but damn if it doesn’t grab ya.
Then there’s “Godfather (Love Theme)”, which is just... wow. Imagine a bunch of kids who probably couldn’t grow facial hair yet trying to nail the smooth, moody vibes of Nino Rota’s iconic score. Spoiler alert: they don’t. But there’s something hilariously earnest about how hard they go for it. The violins squeak, the brass wobbles, and yet—you can tell they’re pouring their little hearts into it. Respect where it’s due.
Look, this ain’t exactly Beethoven or whatever fancy composer people pretend to love. This is raw, unfiltered chaos disguised as music. At points, it feels more like a school recital than a legit record. But here’s the twist—it works. Not well, not perfectly, but enough to make you smile. Maybe even laugh.
So yeah, English Martyrs School Band And Orchestra isn’t gonna win any Grammys (they weren’t even invented yet for half these kids). But screw it—it’s real. No polish, no filters, just pure effort crammed onto wax. If nothing else, it reminds us all that music doesn’t have to be perfect to mean something. Or maybe it’s just proof that British schools had too much free time in the '70s. Either way, mad respect.
