Weirdomusic says:

Pro-choice on mental health by Peter Dizozza is a weird CD. In fact, I don’t know what to think of it. Is this guy serious? According to his website “he devotes his working life to creating innovative and stimulating entertainment and helping his audience develop confidence, enlightenment and serenity through self-expression”. He can’t really sing and the ‘mini-plays’ on this CD ramble on without making much sense. So check it out if you’re into really weird stuff, but don’t blame me if you fall asleep!
Rating: 2 / 5

Peter Dizozza says:

Here’s a thoughtful review by Luke Martin of Splendid Magazine.

This is an odd CD. Inside its bright pink cover is a collection of narratives and songs, as well as a mini-play, all about the idea of how much choice one can exercise in terms of mental health. Prozac Nation meets Sondheim? Kind-of: if you could work a bit of Ben Folds into the mix, you’d have it nailed. And hey, it’s not every recording that features a narrator who walks through Williamsburg, calls up Alban Berg to ask how his wife is, or imagines he’s a horse owned by a violent jockey, is it?

Musically, this disc is quite simple: Dizozza sings and plays keys, while producer/recorder Joe Bendik handles guitar, bass and percussion. This is the sort of setup that means that anything less than strong songwriting will see the music flounder — something that occasionally happens, though it’s usually overridden by the croaky appeal of Dizozza’s voice.

“No Problem There” hits the same sort of stridency that drove Billy Joel back when he was still writing compelling material, and contains some ballsy piano playing that is the first hint — along with some pretty nifty vocal doubletracking, in places — that Dizozza can hammer together a great tune. Sure, the form that he’s writing in can sound a little limiting at times, but there are some sly guitar additions, and some pretty liquid lyricism — “The Song Of Laughter And Forgetting”’s Freudian bus-ride, for example — that can carry over any background cheesiness.

In terms of professionalism and pizzazz, I found it really, really difficult at times not to think of Christopher Guest’s film Waiting For Guffman. I can only assume that Dizozza is incredibly honest and dedicated about this topic; it’s this naïveté and lack of overt “Look! It’s irony!”-style asides that make the album work. While there are a couple of moments where Dizozza’s narrative veers towards the overtly Woody Allenish, the honesty that’s hinted at (and finally loosed on the bonus monologue on the Social Security Department) is what makes this disc successful: it’s honest and unadorned.

Enhanced copies of the album come with Queen Lili Ukalani’s Bonus Sampler: a collection of tracks from other Cinema VII recordings. These throw the tracks on Pro-Choice On Mental Health into sharp relief: their seriousness is underscored, whereas some of the sampler’s tunes sound like just…songs. Still, it’s interesting to hear what else rests in the CVII stables: my interest is definitely piqued.

Pro-Choice On Mental Health isn’t the sort of thing that I’m going to put on the stereo very often, but in a way, I’m glad that it’s there. It’s a reasonably well-written excursion into musical theatre that doesn’t rely on (God forbid) Lloyd-Webberisms to work. The album engages a topic that’s of increasing importance, but seems to do so without
any tedious voice-of-God-style proclamation. And it’s good, dorky fun that’s not afraid to be serious. That, I like. — Luke Martin.
Rating: 5 / 5