LP's in the 1950's were so helpful. They didn't fool around. I wasn't of album-buying age then, but in my flipping through the used music crates, I've come to realize that, apparently, your average consumer needed to know exactly what the music was for. Each slab of vinyl had a specific purpose. OK, maybe not each and every one. I still have no idea what purpose albums by The Ray Conniff Singers served, or why anyone might have needed to own an album by Jerry Vale when there were albums by Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin right there in the same store, but the people who marketed music did try to steer the casual buyer.

Some albums had a very specific purpose, such as:

Because, I'm guessing, when you think of the sweet orchestral sounds of Eddy Howard, what comes to mind? Bread (in waxed paper, of course). It's so obvious.

Then, you have the collected works of Jackie Gleason, who didn't trust the artwork and song titles alone to convey the essence of his musical mission. So we get: 'Music To Remember Her' (disembodied female heads, and songs with women's names in them, which might not necessarily aid you in remembering her if her name wasn't, say, Tangerine, or Rose Anne), 'Music For The Love Hours' (a male hand -- all you see is the sleeve of a Hefneresque smoking jacket -- lighting the cigarette of a lingerie-clad babe), 'A Taste of Brass For Lovers Only' (quite specific, that), and my absolute favorite, 'Music To Change Her Mind.'

Let that sink in for a second. 'Music To Change Her Mind.'

So here's the scenario. We have this sultry, cleavagey redhead, who's within hearing distance of your hi-fi, and she's had a nice time (she looks friendly enough), but this is as far as the evening is going to go. What's a guy to do? Slip on some Jackie Gleason. Some of the songs on this: 'Guilty,' 'My Sin,' 'You Call It Madness (But I Call it Love),' 'It's The Talk Of The Town.' Now I'm no expert on '50s-style seduction, but I find it far-fetched to conclude that making her listen to Gleason 'presenting' (that's his credit: 'Jackie Gleason Presents') these melodies is going to make her think, 'Why not? There are only three TV channels, and this is such a boring decade. This album has suddenly made me want to sleep over.' Maybe it worked.

The '50s were filled with this stuff: 'Music To (Blank) By,' 'Music For (Blank) Lovers.' I have a Woody Herman LP, 'Music For Tired Lovers,' which I'm guessing was the follow-up to this:

This is another one (from the '60s, though) that I dig:

It's a pretty good album, I have to admit. Maybe the next time I decide to re-read my old 'Thunderball' paperback, I'll put it on. See how useful this approach can be?

And what record collection couldn't use this LP by 'Bald' Bill Hagan and his Trocaderons: 'Music To Strip By: Party Fun Songs from the Golden Age of Burlesque.' 'Party Fun Songs'? Was this translated from Japanese? I don't know what party fun songs are on the album, exactly, or whether it should be played before or after 'Music To Change Her Mind' (probably after Gleason's sexy strings have weaved their hypnotic spell). I also don't know what 'trocaderons' are. Am I crazy, or is she dangling a bra, while also wearing a bra? The classic golden age of burlesque move: the double-bra striptease.

I could go on. You might want to investigate Jackie Kannon's 'Music For Rat Fink Lovers' (is that women who love rat finks, or guys who are rat finks?), another '60's artifact. But I'll conclude with this: say you want to hear some Red Norvo. Not a bad idea; he could swing some vibes. What to do? You're in a record store (remember record stores?), and you're browsing, and you come across this hip, self-referential disc. Music to listen to while you're listening to Red Norvo. Genius.