Wireless is magic! Like Santa! Radio connections are made well before 1900, so maybe the songs here might sound a wee bit old fashioned.
Pop music sounds way been-there done-that to me. Olivia Newton John loves “Christmas on the Radio.” She’ll even throw in a doowop or two. But it’s modulated mainstream.
Finding Favour instills more funky soul (and God) into the bluegrassy folk of their “Christmas on the Radio.” It’s third degree nostalgia.
The call to arms at the office Christmas party is alcohol. Get as sozzled as possible so you can get all resentments off your chest and no harm done. Right?
PSA from Shawn Hollenbach: “Don’t Get Wasted at the Holiday Party” preaches a pop/rap dance beat to consider.
Brent Burns slurs through his confessional “I Got Drunk at the Office Christmas Party,” a hoedown of oompah hilarity that offers no moral lesson at all. You’re welcome.
“Christmas Party Song” from Bob Rivers is the office party drunk that went all sorts of the wrong way. But the ornate orchestration and strong vocals (Karen Carpenter tribute?) make it fly.
Beatnik Turtle’s Song of the Day offers “Company Christmas Party,” a rock pop-up (with bongos!) which merely suggests drinking as the reason for all the celebratorily outrageous behavior. It’s all in order. Count it off.
John Vosel & the Party Crashers let you know the hangover dangers before they begin their electronic blues wiler “Office Party.” Wild.
Roberto Cassani rolls his Rs for an Irish sendoff “At the Office Christmas Party.” It’s syncopated folk (isn’t that rap?) about alcohol-fueled shenanigans.
Bluegrassy ragtimey warbling really sells the “Office Party” drunkenness. Shorty Garrett sends you home with a cautionary tale. (About how you can win the girl with an extra cup of wine.)
Time to recognize the few, the brave, the messed up groups out there who make an effort to eroticize the Advent for their own reasons.
HC Weinberg & His Midwest Merry Makers kerfuffle out of Seattle to jug band out the holidays with a wry ol’ creepy uncle wink. Beware, these guys only know one tune.
Their album Christmas Makes Me Horny from a couple years ago warm up with the innuendo of “Santa’s Little Helper,” a tribute to little blue pills(??) with some horny horns and cheerleader cheers.
“Frisky the Snowman” is also naughty-lite blue grassing this time concerning the romantic sojourn of a certain iceman. Frankenstein’s monster had the same trouble.
The ‘Uncle and Aunt approved’ version of the title song is “Christmas Makes Me Frisky.” Stop here if you redden easily.
The same song done earthy is “Christmas Makes Me Horny.” Basically the same thing. No BLUE ALERT necessary, but i got nervous and pressed the button prematurely.
A pure form of country is down home bluegrass, which loves the pickin’ and strummin’ over the speed limit more than the surly sentiment. It’s hard to be sad with bluegrass!
Lugubrious gospel bluegrass from Kelly Nolf & Wyndi Harp harking back to the posing for the picture of “Our Family Christmas Card.” It’s not good news, but–hey–bluegrass.
Mark Best swings and sways with Sunday school rhythms for his blue grass special “The Christmas Card.” He wants you to know why he signed your card. It’s ‘cuz o’ God.
A peek inside a God-fearing Midwest home during the Great Depression resonated with the Take-This-Job-and-Shove-It generation of struggling middle class haters. It calmed them down that such monumental problems could be solved in less than an hour.
After nine years the show was cancelled but wouldn’t die through specials and movies for decades. Then came Walton’s Christmas: Together Again, a 1999 holiday album of anachronistically rollicking country music.
Some tunes are covers of country faves, like “Follow That Star,”
and “That’s What Christmas Means to Me.”
Then there’s the original second eldest Jason’s ode to “Mama’s Applesauce Cake.” A barn burner.
And then there’s Grampa’s patient explanation about the heaven snowmen go to when they melt for the granddaughter’s weepy sake. “Snowman’s Land” is that talky Red Sovine country blather that means to tearjerk, but runs long with chorale backup.
But, heavens, when you think of Waltons, you think of the longshot of the darkened home with the endless “Good Night”s. So here’s the Christmas song to make you remember that old TV series. Goodnight, John Man.
The presentation is that moment when you get handed that precious parcel, when you come face to face with that dream in colorful paper/bag… ahhh… HERE WE GO.
A song about specific gifts for specific people should be presented on this blog another day. But “Gift of the Magi” from Squirrel Nut Zippers is all about the presentation/opening. SPOILER ALERT: it’s an O. Henry story. Drowsy bluegrass. So sad.
Murray Webster has a 30 second fanfare of dixieland proportions in “A Christmas Gift is Waiting for You.” You could make it the ringtone of the phone you wrapped, then call it when you want it opened. Or something.
The coolest ta-da present song is the bluegrass breakdown “Your Christmas Gift” by Steve Ivey. I highly recommend you play it from the next room as you ceremoniously approach with the item in question. (Unless your offering can’t live up to this build up.)
We don’t like spending the time to wrap the presents we bought, we’ll even pay someone else to do it. Ergo, few great songs about the disguising process.
Ok, sometimes we wrap like we don’t give a crap. “Wrap Your Presents up in Duct Tape” by Russ is kidsong fun, iconoclastic and full of juicy guitar riffling.
Alton Dulaney goes a bit much for his tutorial “Gift Wrap Rap.” Bogus hip hop.
Mockingbird, Wish Me Luck sing “Bought and Wrapped” about that special present (a book) for you. Chimey, happy pop.
Another special present under consideration for covering up is Magnus Carlsson who sings about how he wants to “Wrap Myself in Paper” just for you. Hang onto that receipt, girl.
A NEW parody i stumbled over comes from The Withers showcasing wrappers’ fatigue. “I Can’t Wrap these Presents Anymore” passes the novelty masterpiece test (for 1984 REO Speedwagon country rock).
I like the gentle folk ‘grass of the Bristol Brothers’ “Paper and Bow.” It’s sweet and unpresuming and actually about the papers in question.
The only good Christmas tree is a dead Christmas tree! This wholesale slaughter has already been celebrated in my bloggy way with fetching jazz drumline gusto by Screaming Headless Torsos and also, best of all, by Celtic Elvis‘s Gregorian chanting.
BUT ALSO– Paul Garding sits us down in a circle for the folk styled “Kill a Tree for Christmas.” Give him a minute, he’ll soften the blows.
RuddOsophy gets more novelty comical with his caroling country “Let’s Go Kill Us a Christmas Tree” complete with forest animal sidekick singing foil. It’s a 7.5 on the ha-ha richter scale.
Let’s admit it, the eco-freaks are twaddle-minded hippies who’d rather have verdant stands than homes filled with desiccating cheer. Let them sing along with Dr BLT’s bluegrass anthem: “Christmas Tree Hugger.” Watch out for those spikes they sabotage ’em with!
After the end, the baggie’s turned inside out, the ashtray’s been licked, the stems and seeds have been roasted… you’re out, bro.
Je Suis France champions the drought with “Baby, Please Don’t Get Stoned (It’s Xmas).” Jangly experimental rock with vocals dropped to the bottom track don’t engender a drug-free home.
Paul Stewart amuses himself with a terrible family reunion but “No Weed for Christmas.” Give it a minute and you’ll be rewarded with some raging mandolin.
More than a couple Christmas rehab songs feature the big man, St. Nicholas. It’s time to deal with a stinko Santa y’all.
Wasi flavors their girl rock with Celtic punk giggling out that every Christmas morning Santa checks into “Christmas Rehab.” I’m not sensing sympathy for the red man.
Also ridiculing our favorite present-er, David Gray sneaks in a smidge of Calypso singing “Christmas in Rehab” in his front room. There’s barf, a small swear word, and a Kanye reference. How could it not be funny?
Mike Mullen mocks Amy Winehouse’s ‘Rehab’ with his “Christmas Rehab.” It’s silly and beats the drunk Santa joke with a bag of toys.
Much more playfully Adam’s House Cat tells us “Santa’s Out of Rehab by Christmas.” It’s a jug band family affair (except for Daddy) with some gleeful musicality.