Category Archives: jazz

Xmas Tech Support: telephone

Blasting into the Nineteenth Century the latest whadjamajiggit will allow us to communicate Christmas better.

Why the ‘phone might even replace the postals for catalog ordering! “555-Ho! Ho!” from Hal Willis is the country comedy that gets some to knee slapping. It’s sad, it’s funny, it’s uplifting, AND it’s pretty stupid, too.

Many moons later the idea of a telephone connection is taken pretty much for present. When separated “Christmas on the Telephone” may be the only exchange possible. Thus, saggy smeary pop tunes like Brian Gari’s.

And if you won’t even call… “Christmas by the Phone,” a rock driving country womper of heartbreak from Good Charlotte.

Somewheres over a century ago was recorded “I’ll Telephone to Santa Claus” as sung by Stanley Kirkby on Edison Blue Amberol cylinder 23315, 1914. Get a quiet corner to hearken, children, to the tinny timpani of antique jazz band.

And a Party in a Pear Tree: already in progress

Finally! You’re here! Christmas party is already going strong!

Reggae romping with Donchez Dacres fills the room with opportunities to echo back, spiritualize, and dodge fireworks. “Christmas Party Song” is a trip.

If you’re warmed up enough, i’d like you to trip the light with KiWi and their oddly fantastic “The Christmas Party.” The electronica veers from Russian march to K-pop to fx-sneezing. Come on, that’s a party.

Frenetic K-pop from Nightcore just keeps saying “Christmas Party” over and over with electronic buzzing to fill inbetween. Find me a chair!

Krisanthi Pappas narrates the success of the soiree with her jazzy uptempo “Christmas Party.” Catch up!

And a Party in a Pear Tree: left out

Who’s coming to your Xmas shindig? Probably not Frankenstein.

But first, a word on who you really shouldn’t invite. Dom Powell warns you that “Satan is coming to the Christmas Party.” In appropriate light metal, the metaphor rings the bell on bad actors who don’t dig what you’re trying unironically to celebrate.

A Peter Pan Players holiday album Monster Christmas Mash (1974??) follows the Universal Classic Monsters (post Bobby Pickett mashing) as they attempt to integrate into Christianity–but learn their wanting to was all the goodness they ever needed. Or something. The album is bedeviled with silly story, but contains a kids’-Dixieland show stopper from the man-of-many-parts Frankenstein: “Nobody Ever Asked Me to a Christmas Party.” Who would Jesus host?

Dependent Claus: supplantin’ Santa

Can Mrs. Claus do everything Santa can do, backwards in heels? Listen.

Shirley Booth in ‘The Year Without Santa Claus’ represents the Mrs.’s realization that “I Could be Santa Claus.” So there. Showtune styled.

Hani Stempler tells the showtune kidsong “Here Comes Mrs. Santa Claus,” about the time he couldn’t so she had to. Three cheers for filling his shoes.

Larry Nestor leads the fun when Santa was down, the elves were too small, and “It was Mrs. Claus!” who saved the day. She can drive, so hooray. Showtune swing.

“The Mrs. Saved Christmas” is kidrap from Aloe Blacc wherein she drives, commands, and delivers. And she rescues the stuck fat sack as well.

When they start writing to her, you know Santa matters less. The Brymers have composed “Dear Mrs. Santa Claus” with kiddie jazziness to ask the real questions about that guy. Does he like to sing? Now i wanna know.

Lala Deaton warns the neglected “Dear Mrs. Claus” with jump blues that she needs the credit of getting her name in a song. ‘Cause she does stuff, you know. The video loves itself with extra wacky comic bits, but the song is smooth.

Dependent Claus: rolling pin time

A woman can only take so much of being shoved into the shadows. Mrs. Claus boils over (and other kitchen metaphors for mad) with the following top tunes.

Slightly irked, Sandy Schaeffer Bergeson rails with pop song in “Mrs. Santa’s Song.” But the responsibilities correlate with the resentment, so that by song’s end she’s ready to pop.

Ballad rock’n’roll from The Miss’s lays down the law on that jolly layabout in “Mrs. Claus.” Pretty venom.

“Claus vs. Claus” is the N.Pole Bickersons from J.D. McPherson. This cool cat has the finger poppin’ discursive dialogue from the Clauses in which all is aired and possible resolutions are described. Mmm!

Dependent Claus: overlooked

The honeymoon’s over and the man gets comfortable and the woman is simply expected to super-perform. Santa how could you treat your mate this way?

Laying into the loungey torch number, Colin Farish makes a drinking song out of “Mrs. Claus.” (Take a sip for each taken-for-granted ‘who.’) [Who does Sinatra better? Try Russ Lorenson‘s?] [Maybe a Mel Torme take?! Benn Bacot silver fogs this same bit.] [Lua Hadar wrenches pathos from this one.]

From the back of that one jazz club you haven’t heard of croons Fleur Seule with a killer band backup. “Everyone Forgets about Mrs. Claus” is mediocre music, but the vibe is cool.

EX-Mas, begging

The stages of grief over losing your love include bargaining.

Harmonic blubbering from East 17 ruins the merries and jollies with “Stay Another Day.” Boy band emo. You’re embarrassing her, man.

More slick, still heart-on-sleeve, “Ex-mas Song” by Young Rog tries to imagine Christmas wivowt da two uvuss… ca’t do it! R+B slow roll.

More comically vis-à-vis Rudy Casoni pulls the Chairman of the Board schtick (coming off more like the King of Comedy) with “Sno’ Balls.” Suggestively waving what she’s leaving behind as she sashays out. (Not quite x-rated.)

Spinning the Driedel

Alternatively, December sex can be observed between a Jew and a Jewess.

Goldentusk ragtimes “Sex for Hanukkah” with such speed you know he’s trying to dazzle into something. And he does.

Coming Down the Chimney (BLUE ALERT)

While we are on the subject of the Clauses, what about Nick?

Back to SNL for Amy Poehler, Maya Rudolph, Kristin Wiig to get dreamy about how “Santa’s My Boyfriend.” Retro ’50s rock’n’roll innuendo.

Karen Petrocella also torches with “Santa Guy.” This is not a ‘Baby’ takeoff, but a jazzy love song (barely PG-13, but steamy).

Steel Panther glam metals “Sexy Santa” just right for all the girls and boys. You’d swear it was the ’90s.

Soul steals the show with The Louisiana Blues Brothers and how they heard “Santa was a Freak Like Me.” He’s on the prowl for the naughty.

Almost convincingly straight Dejan Milićević as LAZZ presents himself as “Sexy Santa Claus” with limp MOR rock and a lispy accent.

The Theme Song has an awesome collection of one-minute bust ups over whatever the beef of the moment is. Nasty time for Santa with this playful rap “Merry Motherfucking Christmas.”

“Naughty or Nice” is the moaning pop guzzle we’d expect from Francine the Queen of Obscene. Very, very naughty.

The Mulaney Sisters raise the roof to thank the Netflix ’18 flick ‘The Christmas Chronicles’ with their “Sexy Kurt Russell.” That ‘Christmas leather daddy’ is the present they want. (To ‘bone,’ not open.)

Don We Now: Santa suit samore

Synecdoche is when a part of something stands for the whole thing. It’s simple idiom we don’t detect but use easily like ‘all hands on deck’ (meaning all sailors assemble on deck).

So the red suit is enough to signal the whole Santa is here thing.

Einstein’s Wardrobe add “The Man in the Red Velvet Suit” as just another detail to the whole scene. Not a mention of the Santa. Folk MOR.

Rod Stewart does his big jazz band diva thing for “Red Suited Superman.” You know who is cool.

Follow along with The Trail Band and their oompah country “Big Red Suit.” A childlike exploration of wonder seeing so many things but not knowing their meaning.

It may be still be mysterious to some (see yesterday) but The Ballroom Band is happy with the “Man in a Red Suit” celebrating the birth of Jesus, without knowing her personally. Give us a rockabilly smile.

When you see the red suit you think St. Nick, because “Santa Claus Wears a Red Suit.” It might look like Daddy, but–red suit! Jeff Gustafson wonders in this fizzy jazzy concoction.

Using the red suit as ammo to suck up, The Many-Splendored Things want Santa to know he looks “So Good in Your Red Suit.” Odd alt-pop insists they want nothing from that old guy. (Except 100,000$.)

Fetishizing the clothes, Merrill Leffmann admits “I Love a Man in Uniform.” Her jazz siren call drips all over the articles of attire, but seems to miss the man.