It would seem more appropriate for non-motorized transport around Christmas to feature snow rather than sea. But, be advised, these sled-songs will not concern Santa Claus’s get-along. There will be kids and hills and–p’raps–danger!
Kids… cartoons, am i right? Tiny Toons take us away with their “Sled Song“–a moment’s diversion from some 1992 Christmas special.
The Yule Logs stretch my conceit with “Atheist Serf Holiday.” These non-believers surf-rock their doubts, but never quite catch the literal wave. And when i say rock, i mean hold onto your pants. Damn.
“Winter in L.A.” seems a child’s tutorial from Mischievous Miracles. Hanukkah and Kwanzaa and Xmas trappings are all noted. So is the weirdness of trucking in snow while the surfers are on high. Gentle fun.
Ray Mizzi refers to the summer, sand, and surf as Christmas attractions in his peripatetic jazz party tune: “Wave (Australian Beach Christmas).” But that wave was made for riding, just like a present was made for opening.
Even MORE Aussie, Libby Hammer smacks around the kidsong to feature “Christmas in the Summertime.” Dance pop.
Honestly, i don’t get Santa surfing. That’d be like a prairie dog burger. Doesn’t fly. Santa should not be wet. But, then, are the greats ever drenched?
Jody Whitesides encores “I Saw Santa Surfing.” This alt country/rock epiphany plays fast and loose with our Big guy myth. For funsies.
“XXXmas” by BEAAST MOBB is rap that transfigures Santa into a bad mo-fo, and surfing into a sex act. But it’s seasonally appropriate.
The antidote to that is “Santa on Vacation,” a slurred lounge act from Brice Salek that’s for kids. Santa goes where Bermuda shorts are the uniform. But it’s permanent.
How ’bout some children’s music crap? JunyTory stages the argument between “Winter vs. Summer Christmas” as a cute song. Sleighs against surfboards. you see where it’s headed… not exactly Lincoln Douglas debating, more like a toddler rap battle.
Nearly as juvenile is the ‘crowd-pleasing’ BLUE ALERT Coldplay’s “Christmas With the Kangaroos.” It’s just not well done, doggerel gone it. Pop.
Also Australian, Peanut Butter Jams finally addresses actual music with the folk-pop “Christmas in Australia.” Kidsong approved.
Two’s company, three’s a crowd (one’s a corporation?)… but sometimes, when it’s dark and cold, three can be cozy.
Bob Dylan is asking (spoken word) that you stop and hear the “Three Angels” playing their horns in a nowhere corner of Montana. I may have missed ’em.
Just as disappointed Mel Bryant worries that you won’t “Keep Christ in Christmas.” In this brilliant, profane folk-pop rant she fingers speeders, hypocrites, and billboards [that say: ‘Three angels give earths final warning‘].
Another reminder from Wright Now: that first Christmas was much different; No bed or walls in that cattle stall Just a family of three with no place left to sleep. Soft rock makes “Let This Christmas be Different” easier to bear. It’s an object lesson with rhythm.
Much more preachy is a houseless family in Ray Boltz’s pop panegyric “The Gift.” Shivering and without, suddenly they are swarmed with gifts, the note reading: Inside the three of you The real heart of Christmas. Get it?!
Much more fun is Squeeze’s interp of Mary and Joseph in “Christmas Day.” Industrial pop rephrases the manger scene: The man on the desk didn′t hear them right When the two of them booked for three. Thus the rock.
Graeme Connors folk-pop poeticizes “Christmas in Melbourne” where all manner of (unfortunate) magical realism melts the mind, including three cops bearing gifts from the East (they bring him around with a Christmas slap).
The antidote to that might be Bootscoot’n Betty with my band of three kid-song-ing “It’s Christmas Time in the Great Outback.” Don’t forget to recycle out there!
The colorful characters in Mikey Powell’s “And a Happy New Year” have worse lives than Elanor Rigby. The soft pop serves up a broken homed teen, empty widower, and single mother [Three children, two jobs and overdue rent] who wish each other pointless cheer. Buckle up, ye of privilege… it’s brutal out there.
Also bottom drawer, the millennials of Default Genders who steal as a political protest [At Christmas, three of us blazing In the parking lot of a bar you were DJing] celebrate with a fizzy pop “Christmas Card from a Scammer in Minneapolis.” At least they got each other.
Desperate for family when ties seem to have been cut, Daily Norris sees that a Table set for three (If you count the dog) is not quite what we used to call Christmas cheer. “You Feel Like Christmas” is a soft pop cry for help. You better deliver.
When THAT sitch is blown, Penny and Sparrow feature a narrator who only wants not to be so damn lonely. Long soaring rock notes of sorrow belabor his wish when she comes back to pick up the dog: Let’s have a “Neat Christmas,” like we used to, All three of us, just like it was…
Well I wanted just to see you on my lonely Christmas eve, Instead I′ve got two dogs who want to spend some time with me begins the sad sack of “I Want My Christmas Back.” Upbeat pop at least. Brett Emerson Wagner, at least, knows how to front the party.
Another solution is to wish for a “Mistress for Christmas.” According to AC/DC’s metal, Wanna be in heaven with three in a bed.
Even more comfortable, Nat King Cole has “My Little Christmas Tree.” Little? You’re big enough for three. Smooth jazzy easy listening
.Just the three of us, man we’re gonna have a party; Everybody else can go to hell may be the healthiest attitude here. Patrick Van Sante (feat. Tim Kerssens, Jaco Bakker & Auke Broertjes) play punk like a kidsong (with penny whistle) to let you know “With Christmas I’ll be Drunk.” And loving it.
“All I Want For Christmas,” country-drawls Toby Keith, is 12 more months of lovin’. That’s right. Don’t buy the millionaire nothin’.
Broken-hearted (more appropriately for the country music), Merle Haggard remarks that this “Lonely Night” marks twelve long months to remember. And toforget.
Just as worse off (maybe in the next twelve months there’ll be a chance), Broken Fires sighs about a “Winter Warmer” with you in it. Alt folk says it’s a long shot.
It’s been twelve whole months since he’s lost it over you, but Apollo Clone figures “I Deserve Coal” this Xmas for screwing it up with you. Rocking pop.
Jamie Lawson will be home 12 months to the day to see you, but it’ll only be “Footprints in the Snow” for the holidays. That was you walking away. Altpop.
Pounding altpop from She Wants Revenge mourns Christmas time again, the loneliest of all, the fear of how to make it to New Year’s: Raise your glass and toast to the one you miss the most And promise that you won’t be doing this again in twelve month’s time. This “Holiday Song” covers ALL the holidays, all the loneliness.
If you’re counting, Christmas comes every 12 months. Fake Zappa twists kid music into “Baby Santa Claus.” Spoiler alert: the baby born this day ain’t Jesus. Not in this chanting charmer.
It’s been twenty-three weeks Since life became so bleak, bewails “This Isn’t Christmas After All” rocked and metaled by Second Glance. Since… the Pandemic… and Santa died… and you know.
Had this poker face on for 23 days rap Thrice a Chuckle to the beat of inspirationally national humming. “Operation Santa Claus” is a kid deep undercover waiting up to see whether the Jolly Old Elf is genuine.
12/23 isn’t quite the last minute, but it gets us revving. “The Day Before the Night Before Christmas” is the pistol starter shot for being good from The Caroleers. Kidsong they way it used to be done.
Today we sing the praises of December 23rd ‘sing’ Paul and Storm in their slightly unharmonious march “Christmas Eve Eve.” See, according to the theory of contrast, humor springs from juxtaposing overbearing seriousness onto dismissive frivolity. So, ha.
Maya Huyan has a little story about getting presents for Xmas, it involves catching Santa publicly urinating at the point of her 48 Magnum. “Merry Litmas” is a wild rap ride, but it ends happily–like the whole BLUE ALERT was a dream….
Percy Parker is teaching times tables in “Warm Feet“–oddly a Christmas counter for boots for cows. That’s the kind of farmer Roger is, in Kidsong anyways. You’re expected to learn and singalong. Get to it.
Let’s return to those thrilling days of yesteryear when a precocious tyke slinging a pop tune wasn’t creepy at all! Gayla Peevey encores “77 Santas” for us with all seriousness (and no tiaras) attached.
