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Songs and stories.
Phillips has two "leaders" in his line - a mellow voice and a rich vein of wit. He makes a boob of the average published comedy song as his own sense of humor is so far beyond that of the conventional peddler of sheet-music blurb. There is somewhat about Phillips that bespeaks the man who has read good books, who has thought deep thoughts, who has loved fine paintings, who has met the world and looked at it from an elevation; an elevation not of egotism, but of trained and superior observatory faculties. His diction is the verbiage of the gentleman, his careless but proper clothes and the apparel of the artist rather than the entertainer, his easy manner is the stamp of one who is untrammeled by any petty affectations. Recently discharged from overseas navy work, Phillips specializes just now in stories of the service. He tells them plainly, and each has a point of human interest and a laugh of general application. The little anecdotes are not tortuous introductions to fire-cracker gags - they have wit, but they explode in packing of psychological verities rather than mere gunpowder of ludicrous situations. He sings three songs, not one of them up to either his voice or his calibre in rendition. He should write his own songs. Such claptrap as he sells to the accompaniment of a pianist is unworthy of a man who could construct better stuff ad lib. He reveals himself again, however, in an almost epic spoken ballad of his own composition to the meter of "Stars and Stripes Forever," in which he does not sing, but stirringly recites. That gets him off to a walloping hand. Phillips is a heart-healing visitation. He is genuine and he is intelligent without for a second being a "highbrow." His act is worth any spot on any bill.
Source:
Variety, 53:13 (02/21/1919)