Lemme sneak a couple more in here…
54321 is the address of Santa on “Candy Cane Lane” according to the cornball rock of James Leo Oliver. As if there’s another house up there to identify!
The Yule Logs squeeze a phone number, “North Pole 45789,” into their bouncy pop number. Maybe that’s 674-5789… but, what’s the area code for up there? It’s a number!
“Fifty Kilowatt Tree” is the OCD (obsessive compulsive decorating) The Bobs mount to be seen from space.
Some city folks attempt to don the ten gallon hat and pose as real rangers. Is that funny? In honor of Christmas?!
The Heebee-jeebees are a Calgary a cappella group who have won the Canadian A Cappella Northern Harmony Championships twice. And they’re a hoot. Measure that claim by their “Cowboy Christmas,” a cow punchy listing of all cowboy cliches fast as they can. Hee haw.
It doesn’t need to be a big affair. The Christmas party can be more meaningful with just us.
The Sweptaways and Friends celebrate a gospel enhanced a cappella “Christmas Party” ‘for the ones we loved.’ Hate to be left off that guest list.
Maybe he’s too involved with work, supervising, listing, keeping his weight up… i suppose Santa might be neglectful of the husbandly duties a vibrant helpmate like Mrs. Claus ought to expect. Is it bad enough to sing about?
Tony Thaxton (feat Allison Weiss and Sara Watkins) gets sloppy with bluegrass begging in “Mr. and Mrs. Claus, Christmas Eve.” Nagging does not become you, madam.
“Ode to Mrs. Claus’s Joy” from Gregg Cagno is a chatty folk rock feature about the seduction of the fat man. She’s under a blanket under the tree. PG-13. Yeah, there’s some Beethoven mixed in there.
Stockings and Christmas heels are the allure from “Mrs. Claus Laments (Stay Home with Me).” This torchy R+B jazz from Lynzie Kent gets a bit sweaty.
The Bobs bring it home with “Mrs. Claus Wants Some Lovin’.” Shaggy baggy R+B a cappella that’ll land her on the naughty list.
Christmas is a time for love, forgiveness, togetherness.
But let’s get real before the New Year hits us all the harder.
Joshua Gilyard leads the all-girl choir (Queen of Ratchet) to lecture your smitten face with “Your Man is a Bum.” (‘Drummer Boy’ parody, yeah.) Eyes open, ladies.
Anyone can string the bulbs ’round the needles. It takes an outlier to really decorate with chromatic panache. Light ‘er up, Jetson!
Putting incandescence on the holiday plumage may take on other meanings. “Lit up Like a Christmas Tree” from Flaming Stars isn’t about drinking, but about drinking you in with my eyes, love.
When The Smoking Trees invite you to melt your mind, it’s with tambourines and filters and sound effects from town and distortion. “The Psychedelic Lights of Christmas” result. Ingest responsibly.
Other moods include BLUE. “Blue Light Christmas Tree” isn’t about the decorations after all. Jim Rorie gets bluesy about her leaving him. The tree just is there, brightly mocking him.
And what if they’re dark… or “Blinking Lights“? Brian Kinder goes music hall funny with this.
On the other branch, you can overload that unsuspecting pine into a “Fifty Kilowatt Tree” as Caribbean a cappella-ed by The Bobs. Blew the ‘burbs out. Purdue Musical Organization performs:
All of our anticipation for Winter’s secondary characteristics leads us to the deep seated joy over that first fall.
Hal Leonard Choral supplies secondary schools with arrangements for those tricky pubescent voices. But “The First Snow” is as winsome and awesome as you might expect.
Shawnee Press competes with a similar “The First Snowfall.” This is in the dog-wince range, however.
From some children’s book The First Snow of Winter comes this song by Pat Tracy with Gaelic fiddle and range. It’s heroic and stuff.
And now for something completely old: William Huckaby has revived 19th C songs to sinister effect as with John B Tabb’s “The First Snowfall.” Lord help us.
Gotta feed the a cappella jones while we’re here too. Moodswing swings and sways with “First Snowfall” creating a roller coaster of thumpy jazz.
Lou Reed’s journey of seediness peaked at #16 on the Billboard Hot 100 singles charts… in the United States, RCA released the single using an edited version of the song without the reference to oral sex… in the UK, the reference slipped past the censors, who were apparently unfamiliar with the term ‘giving head’… the term ‘colored girls’ was also an issue in the US and RCA provided radio stations with a version in which it was edited out.
The Blenders get pretty damn funny with their “Sleigh Ride.” And a cappella, too. Damn.
A few songs have raised the roof in correlation with raising the blood alcohol index. Eggnog is not required to be hard, but many enjoy it that way.
If it’s a surprise, then someone SPIKED that drink. Who would do that?
Vaudeville Etiquette parties with country rock (and yodeling), but when that’s not enough “Let’s Spike the Eggnog.” Smells like the 1980s.
Jason O’Brien also recalls old country with “Santa’s Spiked Eggnog.” It’s a saga of elvish betrayal, drunk sleighing, and injustice.
Lil Poverty Angels plays Santa as a playa making the BillCosby move with “Santa Spiked the Eggnog.” It’s rap with a suspiciously ’90s fun backbeat.
Accidental Airplay also rap out “Who Spiked the Eggnog?” These kids are a 9.5 on the wild-o-meter to begin with, but with the addition of alkey-hall—oh my. Some nice solos (they also take turns adding to the punchbowl too–gum!?) makes this a party song. And a half.
The real (white) deal on sneaking in daddy-juice belongs to Straight No Chaser. They make a Scooby Doo case out of the crime in the big band style a cappella “Who Spiked the Eggnog?” It was me.
What to make for Xmas? Throw it all in a 9 x 12 and call it good.
“Aunt Clara’s Christmas Casserole” by ‘Clara’s Kinfolk’ (Probably Jack Servello) warns family of the dreaded elderly traditional potluck. Careful with that hee haw humor, it’ll grow an ad-lib on your reunion the size of a confabulation.
The Christmas Chids work up a sweat with their “Casserole of the Bells.” It sure is pretty. Lean in if you want to feel the full flavor. That cathedral sized echo may make you miss some.