Welcome back to Tales from the Turntable! Like many other students at the University of Connecticut, I’m allergic to doing work. My procrastination abilities manifest themselves into endlessly researching some random thing that won’t help me with schoolwork or find a job. This week, I found myself enthralled in one of the strangest rabbit holes I’ve ever ventured into.
There’s a never ending shortage of strange music out there, but one artist sent me down a never-ending internet spiral that took me a few hours to escape from. I’m very behind on a lot of course work, but I now know a little too much about Tiny Tim.
Fans of “Spongebob Squarepants” will probably recognize the name from the pilot episode, featuring the bouncy track “Livin’ in the Sunlight, Lovin’ in the Moonlight.” You might also recognize the eerily catchy hit “Tip Toe Thru’ the Tulips with Me.” The image of Tiny Tim has become somewhat iconic: a large man with long curly hair and garishly dressed, brandishing a ukulele that looks a bit too small for him.
Gaining rapid success in the late 1960s, Tiny Tim, who’s real name is Hubert Khaury, was seen as nothing more than a novelty artist. Treated as a freak show, he was brought on to popular talk shows of the day to perform songs in his off-putting style. He often sang in a shrill, warbly falsetto voice, almost sounding like a worn out record from the previous century.
Though many considered Tiny Tim to be an amusing yet dim-witted figure, the real man was quite the opposite. As a child, Khaury spent most of his waking hours listening to his parents’ gramophone collection, often listening to old recorded vaudeville acts and early 20th century crooners. As a teenager, he would spend almost all of his free time fervently listening, transcribing and learning the songs he heard, being able to play three hours of covers from memory without repeating a single song.
For his debut album, “God Bless Tiny Tim,” Khaury offered a large range of diversity in his songwriting, taking influences from obscure pieces of Americana and covering older country, vaudeville and folk tunes. Though most tracks utilized his higher register, he often did “duets” with himself, switching rapidly between his natural baritone register and falsetto to emulate a man and woman singing together.
Khaury’s personal life was almost as off-putting as his stage presence. Many around him noted his often strange character, as he was very soft-spoken with an askew personality that many found to be uncomfortable. Though this could be chalked up to a mere lack of social skills, his personal relationships highlight his much darker side.
In 1969, he got married live on “The Tonight Show starring Johnny Carson” to an audience of 40 million people. The marriage was one of the most viewed televised events in history at the time. Khaury, who was 37 at the time, married 17-year-old Victoria Budinger. The couple had one daughter together before divorcing eight years later. Khaury would be married several times afterwards, with each subsequent marriage having similar age gaps.
It was at this point, about two or so hours into this rabbit hole, that I decided it was about time to listen to the man’s music. I had browsed dozens of Reddit threads, Rate Your Music reviews and other music discussion forums trying to garner some general consensus on Tiny Tim. Some regarded him as an unsung hero of outsider folk, while others viewed him as a one-trick-pony that was creepy on and off stage.
After listening to “God Bless Tiny Tim” in full, I wasn’t exactly amazed; however, I do think his music had more to offer than what was shown on television. But, my view of his music is definitely altered after finding out about his problematic personal life.
Tiny Tim’s debut album was eclectic to say the least, as it features just over 40 minutes of folksy covers and strangely hypnotic original recordings. The only song I could really see myself listening to somewhat regularly was “Strawberry Tea,” though that might only be because I’m a sucker for acoustic psychedelic pop. After spending hours learning about the story behind Tiny Tim, I was definitely underwhelmed by his actual music.
In many ways, Tiny Tim is the first real example of the “15 minutes of fame” effect. His peak popularity, though massive, only lasted weeks before fizzling out and returning to the depths of obscurity. His second album, aptly titled “Tiny Tim’s Second Album,” was a commercial flop and failed to reach anywhere near the heights of his debut. For the rest of his career, Tiny Tim was only known for his 15 minutes in the limelight, forever seen as the weird ukulele man.
It was here that I finally left this tumultuous and often uncomfortable rabbit hole, feeling unable to complete the rest of my math homework. I left the Student Union after having completed very little work, but with a vast newfound knowledge of a strange little musical footnote.