But Cleft is a much more worthy beau on Let's Do It!, mainly because his songwriting has caught up with his sarcasm. This is a fuller-sounding record, with horns, accordion, and strangulated harmonica enlivening a much more pronounced rhythm section. Sure, Cleft is still the wiseass, comparing love to Nazi prisoners burning in hell, encouraging drug use, and singing starry-eyed come-ons to Beelzebub in a saucy croon that suggests Engelbert Humperdinck marinated in bile. But now the music is no longer part of the joke.
