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All the “Original Cast” the poor man’s Giorgio Moroder managed to summon for his snowed-in 1980 space opera was Anthony “C-3PO” Daniels and R2-D2. While the voluble Daniels sustains his Ozified Tin Butler bit throughout the disc’s mercifully unaugmented 33:57, R2-D2 peppers his partner’s patter with the customary Casiotone flatulence. The most notable new talent was 18-year-old Jersey boy “John Bongiovi,” who at the time was apparently not wanted either dead or alive by anybody except his cousin Tony, co-producer of this only rarely diverting attempt by Meco (last name: Monardo) to convince his public the cantina hadn’t run dry. Mr. Livin’ on a Prayer might be interested to know that by the time the record was first released, the name of his co-star had already adopted a special significance in my own Garden State haunt. When New Providence High School thug David Poliseno announced to Donny Curcio that he had taken a dump in the football helmet of Donny’s brother Vinnie, he boasted that he had “pulled an R2-D2” in it. Such parlance seems sadly appropriate to Rhino’s strange-pedigreed reissue. When I recently marveled that an Ivy League-bound Washington City Paper intern had repeatedly proved herself too stupid to copy an address from a letter to an envelope, a Yalie at the paper assured me that the most valuable lesson an Ivy League education provides is that nine out of 10 people everywhere are idiots. I hadn’t really believed him until I noticed that such nauseating tripe as “What Can You Get a Wookiee for Christmas (When He Already Owns a Comb?)” (the astonishingly humanistic answer: “love and understanding, goodwill to men”) was penned by Eli music professor Maury Yeston.

—Glenn “Yule Be Sorry” Dixon