Say what you will about Peter Lemongello, but that title does seem like it’s warning you about Peter Lemongello – he’s at least a sportsman. If you do, he actually sold about 40k albums - which are not bad numbers, assuming you didn’t blow hundreds of thousands of dollars of investor money to get them.Ī savvy artist could at least parlay those sales into a good fanbase for the followup album.
Love ‘76 went on to sell 2 million copies if you don’t check. Hey, there’s that Lemongello Void again! It’s all black velvet and everything you touch is lubed, but there’s no time for deep Lemongello lore. I’ll sprinkle a few of those quotes throughout so you get to know the man, the myth, the surely murderer?
#Pure moods infomercial serial#
It is an extremely unflattering piece: Peter comes across like an arrogant lunatic with the empathy of a serial killer and the forgettable good looks of a successful serial killer. Like the New York Times, who did a huge profile piece on him because there’s research (hard), and then there’s letting Peter Lemongello talk about himself for an hour (super easy). Here’s the thing about breaking records, though: You can just lie about it and maybe a lot of people won’t care enough to check. He did actually get a few decent shows using this method, but nothing record-breaking. They did! They regretted it, but they did! Peter Lemongello would blitz this commercial across an area, then use that ‘heightened profile’ to convince local venues to book him. Marketers used this exact template for decades to sell us compilations about sailboats and the vibes that sailboats bring. Seems bog-standard today, but again - he invented it. It wraps with some information on how you can order the album if you love forgettable music for and by assholes, and that’s it. The narrator promises we’ll “experience all the warmth and tenderness living in the heart of Peter Lemongello,” and thanks to his horror trailer delivery, that actually sounds like exactly the threat it turns out to be. I guess it’s supposed to be “swooning along to the music,” but it comes across like she just took too many ‘ludes and is starting to think the Lemongello Void isn’t the groovy absence in space she was promised. He seems to think it’s hilarious, and once again he’s totally right for a very wrong reason.īack to the commercial for Love ‘76, which cuts to a drugged girl erratically weaving on her feet and stays there for a weirdly long time. It’s good mood rock.” And then he said “thanks for the name, baby,” and left her. She said “your music just makes me so happy. Peter Lemongello got the Mood Rock name from a former fling. The narrator explains that this album may sound like the official music of office Christmas parties, but it’s actually an entirely new genre, “Mood Rock.” And hey, real quick Peter Lemongello time-out.
He sounds like he’s introducing you to a holiday-themed murderer while we zoom in on this silhouette…
#Pure moods infomercial movie#
It starts with a narrator who’s shooting for sexy, but apparently cut his teeth on horror movie trailers. Peter Lemongello and his investors made a two-minute long commercial spot for his double album, Love ‘76. He’s responsible for Pure Moods! The fucking asshole son of a bitch. He invented the Now That’s What I Call Music sales model. If you remember basically any commercial from the ‘90s with a beach in it, you have Peter Lemongello to thank for that. Then he used that money to make commercials advertising his album, which you could only buy through the TV. Nobody agreed, so he came up with what sounded like a crazy scheme at the time: He sought out investors in his entire persona, like swank could be traded on the stock market. He wrote boring nothing songs intentionally because he was sure America needed them. He’s an okay singer – he kind of sounds like a less sincere Barry Manilow on Ambien. Look, let’s not get lost in the deep Partridge lore this early. Peter Lemongello looks like Sleazy Partridge in an alternate universe where the Partridges are named like Smurfs. But he’s the best god damn infomercial conman lounge lizard this side of Branson, MO. He’s not the best looking, he’s not the best singer – he’s maybe not even the best Lemongello. Just not for any of the reasons he thinks. My favorite lounge singer is Peter Lemongello, who named himself that on purpose so housewives would see Lemon Jell-O in the grocery store and think “just like that sexy singer!” That’s really why he chose that name! His real name was Peter Limongello, which is pronounced exactly the same. My favorite lounge singer ran an investment scheme on his own identity so he could invent home shopping before getting kidnapped by Major League Baseball players and turning to serial arson. Who’s your favorite lounge singer? Wayne Newton? Gross.
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