Personnel: Harry Nilsson (vocals, harmonica, piano, electric piano, organ, Mellotron); Harry Nilsson; Klaus Voormann (guitar, acoustic guitar, bass instrument); George Tipton, Paul Buckmaster (strings); Richard Perry (Mellotron, drums, percussion); Herbie Flowers (bass instrument); John Uribe (guitar, acoustic guitar); Chris Spedding, Caleb Quaye (guitar); Ian Duck (acoustic guitar); Henry Krein (accordion); Bobby Keys (saxophone); Jim Price (trumpet, trombone); Gary Wright (piano, organ); Jimmy Webb (piano); Roger Coolen (organ); Jim Gordon (drums, percussion); Jim Keltner, Roger Pope (drums).

Liner Note Author: Curtis Armstron.

Recording information: Island Studios, London, England (03/01/1968-06/13/1971); RCA Studios, Hollywood, CA (03/01/1968-06/13/1971); Trident Studios, London, England (03/01/1968-06/13/1971).

Photographer: Dean Torrence.

Unknown Contributor Role: Harry Anger.

Arrangers: Jim Price; George Tipton.

Harry Nilsson had a hit, a Grammy, and critical success, yet he still didn't have a genuine blockbuster to his name when it came time to finally deliver a full-fledged follow-up to Nilsson Sings Newman, so he decided it was time to make that unabashed, mainstream pop/rock album. Hiring Barbra Streisand producer Richard Perry as a collaborator, Nilsson made a streamlined, slightly domesticated, unashamed set of mature pop/rock, with a slight twist. This is an album, after all, that begins by pining for the reckless days of youth, then segues into a snapshot of suburban disconnectedness before winding through a salute to and covers of old R&B tunes ("Early in the Morning" and "Let the Good Times Roll," respectively), druggie humor ("Coconut"), and surging hard rock ("Jump Into the Fire"). There are certainly hints of the Nilsson of old, particularly in his fondness for Tin Pan Alley and McCartney melodicism -- as well as his impish wit -- yet he hadn't made a record as cohesive as this since his first time out, nor had he ever made something as shiny and appealing as this. It may be more accessible than before, yet it's anchored by his mischievous humor and wonderful idiosyncrasies. Chances are that those lured in by the grandly melodramatic "Without You" will not be prepared for either the subtle charms of "The Moonbeam Song" or the off-kilter sensibility that makes even his breeziest pop slightly strange. In short, it's a near-perfect summary of everything Nilsson could do; he could be craftier and stranger, but never did he achieve the perfect balance as he did here. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine

Produced by Barbara Streisand's producer Richard Perry, 1971's NILSSON SCHMILSSON retains all of Harry Nilsson's wonderful songwriting and warm singing, but presents them in a decidedly rock-based setting. Nilsson's decision to combine his quirky, tongue-in-cheek Tin Pan Alley aesthetic with rock arrangements proved to be a successful one, and contributions from a stellar cast of British and American studio regulars didn't hurt either. The result was the artist's most focused, consistent, and accessible album. It also heralded Nilsson's commercial breakthrough.

From the opening notes of "Gotta Get Up," Nilsson is in complete control, fronting the proceedings with grace and ease. The album yielded a number of hits: "Coconut" (as in "put the lime in the coconut") and "Jump Into the Fire" were two, but his highest chart placement came with a song he didn't write, "Without You," a song penned by the English band Badfinger. (Those familiar with "Without You" but unfamiliar with Nilsson's other material may be surprised by what they find here). Witty and idiosyncratic, yet always defined by a consummate pop craftsmanship, NILSSON/SCHMILSSON is immensely pleasurable, and remains one of the artist's best recordings.

Harry Nilsson had a hit, a Grammy, and critical success, yet he still didn't have a genuine blockbuster to his name when it came time to finally deliver a full-fledged follow-up to Nilsson Sings Newman, so he decided it was time to make that unabashed, mainstream pop/rock album. Hiring Barbra Streisand producer Richard Perry as a collaborator, Nilsson made a streamlined, slightly domesticated, unashamed set of mature pop/rock, with a slight twist. This is an album, after all, that begins by pining for the reckless days of youth, then segues into a snapshot of suburban disconnectedness before winding through a salute to and covers of old R&B tunes ("Early in the Morning" and "Let the Good Times Roll," respectively), druggie humor ("Coconut"), and surging hard rock ("Jump Into the Fire"). There are certainly hints of the Nilsson of old, particularly in his fondness for Tin Pan Alley and McCartney melodicism -- as well as his impish wit -- yet he hadn't made a record as cohesive as this since his first time out, nor had he ever made something as shiny and appealing as this. It may be more accessible than before, yet it's anchored by his mischievous humor and wonderful idiosyncrasies. Chances are that those lured in by the grandly melodramatic "Without You" will not be prepared for either the subtle charms of "The Moonbeam Song" or the off-kilter sensibility that makes even his breeziest pop slightly strange. In short, it's a near-perfect summary of everything Nilsson could do; he could be craftier and stranger, but never did he achieve the perfect balance as he did here. [RCA/BMG Heritage reissued Nilsson Schmilsson in 2004 with six bonus tracks. Three of these -- demos of "The Moonbeam Song," "Gotta Get Up," and "Old Forgotten Soldier" -- were included on Britain's RCA Camden 2000 reissue, but the other three are not. There's the Spanish version of "Without You," plus two songs not on the album: "How Can I Be Sure of You" and "Lamaze." None of these are essential (though "Lamaze" is pretty funny), but they're all nice to hear. What is frustrating is that the Camden reissue has five bonus tracks not on this disc, meaning that Nilsson nuts need to own both reissues, which is a bit of a pain.] ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine