Drain My Brain

And so, for the fourth time, Shel Silverstein tries to sell his soul to the devil, and screws up the sale again. He has put out another album that can't be described, that fits into no known commercial category, and the salesman at Sam Goody's will go on saying "Shel who?". He's got nothing against being rich, but he keeps on being completely himself which - even for somebody with Shel's energy - is a full-time job. This is Shel's best album and, like the best of Shel, it is classy and classless. You are fairly warned - this is not music to read by, make love by, get your teeth fixed by, or do anything by, but listen. Drop the needle anywhere and you will pick up a piece of Shel's mind, and for that, you need to use all of your attention. Shel, by actual count, is forty-seven people, and what you have got here is the original cast album.

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