Last word on warnings about how miscreance = coal for Christmas.
Smoking Popes has a maybe-it’s-about-Christmas/maybe-it’s-not pop piece entitled “Little Lump of Coal.” You may read an inconvenient truth into it as you please. I see Xmas everywhere.
More sinisterly specific, Bill Fitzsimmons realizes the consequences for shooting the wrong deer might be “A Big Lump of Coal.” Fun folk/country.
Some negative Nellies focus only on the impossibility of a great Christmas, so they sing the coal songs.
Bob Kramer of The Fource play little punk to frame how It’s too late! and You’re only gonna get “Coal.” Neat backbeat.
Alex Barbatsis has more talent than technique with his Black Eyed Peas ‘Humps’ parody “My Lumps (Of Coal).” You have been warned. About getting coal for Christmas.
Specific warnings to individuals about the natural consequences of coal in your stocking to naughtiness don’t come around often. It’s a blanket threat for allayouze to self reflect.
Jesse & the Hogg Brothers rage through the blues about how “Santa’s Got a Bag of Coal.” And they’ll tell you what you did, you ingrate.
“Box of Rocks,” by the Song Trust but attributed to kids (of all ages), is a fun kidsong about the letter to Santa tattling about that ketchup-wielding, Barbie-exploding sad excuse for a sibling.
If you’re not familiar with the ‘bad tip’ protocol (wherein getting nothing is not as bad a getting a penny), there’s a song for that. That is, there’s a song (or two) explaining why coal for Christmas is a pronouncement on your maladjustment. Posted warnings include:
John Fontana drawls the blues in a frame of Mama sez for “Coal in My Stocking.” Take it to heart, young man–before Valentine’s Day.
Nolan and Jake from Canada have dropped a few songs on the ol’ Youtube as nolziz28. Of note today is their pop rap “You’re Gonna Get Coal for Christmas.” These Stranger Things runners-up get into the swing of the season, but ought to avoid close-ups. And avoid overlong comedy sketch set-ups, too. (A full minute before any singin’!!)
Haschel Cedricson employs a banjo to better effect with “He’ll Bring You Coal.” This pokey bluegrass masks bitterness with back woodsy folksiness. And that’s how you do humor.
The threat of coal in your Christmas stocking measures a culmination of your evils set on a balance ‘gainst your goods.
Mocking those with Christianity on their lips but not in their hearts, Delores Dagenals almost apologetically strums out the folk denouncement “Stockings Full of Coal.” Yeah, you better listen!
Also turning the lump of coal story on its ore, David Dondero folk rocks us the tale of the tormented trannie who inspires us to fling the middle finger to those who have purported this intolerant age. How do you like them briquettes, the man? “Samantha’s Got a Bag of Coal” only touches on a Christmas tradition without being a true carol, but please sing along for the spirit of the season. Thank you.
One of the oddest traditions of Christmas is how bad children still get a little sumpin in the form of a lump of coal.
Let’s not rehash the various histories that various nations claim to originate this Santa shenanigan. Let’s dwell in the hearth that laments and lauds this practice until we finally get into the ore of the mine.
Although previously hailed as a novelty masterpiece, The Killers (w/Jimmy Kimmel) open our journey from the POV of “Joel the Lump of Coal,” allowing us to see the peripeteia the innocent may project over the mean machine of Christmas to a happy ending. Love that alt-pop.
The term ‘cowboy’ has been extended and over-used to the point where every self-styled cool guy from a specific geography gets to call himself whatever. Twentieth and twenty-first centurions hardly qualify. But they still sing about the life, even straight-faced to God on his birthday.
A friend of Muddy Jack’s, Juddy Mac, has penned and strummed a number about an hombre that helped him when he had car trouble around the holidays. Wishing the good samaritan a “Cowboy Christmas,” he yippie-ki-yai-ays his troubles as if he were deserving of the assignation. Close, but no cimarron. Appreciate the talent, though.
Clay Walker’s “Cowboy Christmas” has screechy pop fiddlin’, but it’s about a day-late, dollar-short loser off the rodeo circuit who can’t face the family. Dude, i says.
Moe Brandy remembers what must be “A Cowboy Christmas” while slogging through Christmas tree farms. Good memory. Country pop sing song.
Let’s polish off the saddle horn with a last near-miss sentiment from Don Edwards. “Every Day is Christmas in the West” is thoughtful set of similes making the cowboys’ travails like your decorated front room. Pretty.
Since Mexicans may have started this whole cowboy thing, let’s give a moment to the original cowboy observance of Christmas.
Daniel Schorr (with alternating Spanish and English) serenades us with “El Vaquero de Navidad.” I love the ho hos and the childish wonder. Welcome to the OK corrido.
Do cowboys believe? Ask them 12/25.
“Ridin’ Trails with Jesus” compares the wandering cowpoke to the life of man. David Shook compels some gospel from some half-baked country.
Mary Kaye’s “It All Began in a Barn” compares some old farm outbuilding to the beginning of forgiveness. Farmer’s Xmas song?
Cathy Jones ponders the possibility with “If There had been Cowboys” the first Christmas night in a song that reaches farther than its manure roots can support. Now, what if there had been face-recognition software in Herod’s kingdom?
Most fun with the contrast, Three Day Threshold and Summer Villains lean into the genre with “The Ballad of Baby Jesus.” I like it when they drawl ‘King of the Jews’ with a Texan accent like he’s some gunslinger to contend with.
Iffen we don’t compare cowboys to Santa, p’raps we could compare them to three men who rode far to deliver unto the Lord some stuff.
Most strange, a one-act play ‘A Cowboy’s Christmas‘ hit Philadelphia in 1944. The operatic finale “A Cowboy Carol” featured three rangers figuring out how the world was about to become a better place right at a manger around Christmas time. Nate Tripp leads us to the new world beginning tonight. This musical is a worldwide sensation. Not so much here.
“Riding the Range for Jesus” is a vocal exercise of some dubiousness. Of the many gospel place-fillers to choose from i’ll click on father son duet Byron and Slim Whitman. ‘Cuz of the yodeling.
The best metaphor for the wise men a la cowboys is “Corn, Water, and Wood,” a magic realism mirage on the December badlands. This is best done by Michael Martin Murphy. Riders in the Sky do a pretty, subdued version with haunting harmonies. Bryndle adds a percussive ethereal quality. But i want to feature Barry Ward and his rough hewn throatiness. Sounds like prayer.