Category Archives: R&B

Ex-Mas, denial

Call off the holidays! I’m miserable! We’re apart! No joy! No Jesus! Can’t be!

Big Sister comes back with “Christmas in July” the metaphor of topsy turvitude for the breakup. Get it?

Erasure insists he’ll be your “Loving Man” even though you said goodbye. Easy, man, there’s more lutefisk on the holiday smorgasbord.

Light rock from Jim Croce posits “It Doesn’t Have to be That Way.” You could be here. With me. For Christmas. Tonight. He’s coming over NOW!

The O’Jays shaboop the problem with “Christmas Just Ain’t Christmas Without the One You Love.” Motown, mo’ mopey.

EX-Mas, how dare you BLUE ALERT

What did you just say to me? You think you can do better? On Christmas!

Rancid fronts to their mates about “X-Mas Eve (She Got Up and Left Me).” The punk shouting represents the pain.

BLUE ALERT for the troof from Hannah Monds R+Bing “Ex-Mas.” You are off her list now.

ReduXmas: Jeeze!

With all the great music out there for our holiday’s founder (CFO: Santa, natch), i attempted to collate honorariums with ironies about that baby. Great songs are harder to find. So let’s party like we don’t believe!

First off, “Jesus Christ! It’s Your Birthday Again” reminds Wendell Ferguson with comic country timing. But who’s counting?

“Jesus the Reindeer” by Emmy the Great and Tim Wheeler plays havoc with myth-understanding the reason for the trees and candy. Fun alt.

Kids say the darnedest things. The Creek Church out of nowhere Kentucky took what kids said and made a soul-filled noel to Jesus with “I’ve Seen a Turtle Barf.” You gotta. Just look.

And Ages lectures us that Jesus is the “Reason for the Season (You Dig?)” with their garage folk. Otherwise, it’d be Bhudda-mas or Mohammed-mas. Yeah. Not so, like, holy.

Steven Courtney, as JC, allows “Jesus is the Star” and asks for a candy bar. Crazy R+B pop.

Smoky country from Three Day Threshold & Summer Villains proclaims “The Ballad of Baby Jesus,” like he’s a cowboy or sumpin.

Celebrationally, Holidelic funk up the partay with “Nativitay.” Take notes, the whole, cool deal is dealt with.

Reverentially, American Mars pop folks “The Little Baby Jesus” with just the right amount of woo woo country train sounds ushering in the new born.

Best of parody: The Withers land their song about the highway to the “Manger Zone,” a tease of Kenny Loggins’s 1986 ‘Top Gun’ hit song. With guitar solo. And sass.

Oddest is Barnes and Barnes Sunday schooling “Jesus is Groovy.” Full of faux pas (‘never cross…’ ‘get behind me and help me sing this song…’ ‘he really turns me on…’).

I also enfolded the fam for the whole birthing scene. “Proud Mary” by Watkins and the Rapiers wonders what Mary’s take on the whole Advent was. Not a Tina Turner parody. Well, not actually. Kind of.

Riding Reindeer (BLUE ALERT)

The holiday intercourse may be announced as fact. Surrender to the male imperative.

Poetically, Greg & Brian mix metaphors in the inuendo laden “Yule Log.” It’s down and dirty, but with a medieval dancing beat.

FunnyMike freestyles his “Merry Christmas” about what he’s going to do to specific body parts on you. There’s a rhythm method.

Will Nunziata (feat. Amy Fitts) embodies the Disney princess (cable sitcom verzh) who must have the sex in “Jingle Jingle: A Dirty Christmas Song.” Santa raps countrapoint to her pop lollying.

Reggie Watts levels with all y’all that “Christmas is for Fucking.” Sensual R+B rap. Get it on.

Forgiving all Men (BLUE ALERT)

How long can these Christmas fellating songs last?!

Devastating Just Cause gets instructional and burlesque-y with his old-timey “I Want a Blowjob for Christmas.” Low blow humor… rim shot!

Zack Redman plays a showtune-inspired plea with “Blowjob for Christmas II.” Desperation lifts him to an alto.

Zack’s first go-around was more Motown with his “Blowjob for Christmas.” Nice production values, more melodic than pushy. This is nicer than most.

Picking out the Presents (BLUE ALERT)

Last month was all about the word FUCK in Christmas songs. This month is all about the act FUCK in Christmas songs. Still nasty… but is it more so? Depends on which side of the Mississippi you were born on.

Sexual intercourse is beset with code, euphemism for the uptight authority figurings. So we may encounter some positions not detailed A to B. I’m not here to help. I’m here to listen to some music–and connect the dots on my own. My imagination is just fine, thank you, good luck to you. (You have to gutter up the hidden meanings for all the posting titles for yourself.)

I have previously entertained myself with Furiously Stiff’s “I Want Sex for Christmas.” Wanting’s not having, however. So we’re not even to first base.

Newman McIntosh jollies himself (in his boat?) with a calypso easy listening “I Want to Have Sex on Christmas.” But, girl, he’s lusting for anyone but you. Burn!

Robert Curry is R+B gentle with “Sex for Christmas.” Soulful, meaningful, romantic (make it feel like Summer)… but then milk and cookies start to sound dirty. Hey now.

Fatherly Universality Chris Kringle (BLUE ALERT)

The omniscient, omnipresent judge of us all (with a name we can spell however we like, he’s okay with that), Saint Nick, represents the holiday perhaps more than that other guy. So he gets all the dirty blame for our depressing disappointments.

Bubbles & The Shitrockers gently honky tonks the hell out of the trailer trash tragedy that is hope for the lower classes. “Dear Santa Claus (Go Fuck Yourself)” tells it like beer goggles see it.

Bob Noxious throws music hall around the punk shop to holler “Fuck Off Santa.” Lest you think he’s hasty, check out his prequel of Santa antics in the ‘Bells’ inspired horrorshow “Where’s Me Fuckin’ Sherry?” Even for a Blue Alert this is graphic.

Motown checks in with jennyinstereo who pulls no effin’ punches with “Fuck You (Santa).” Damn girl. Harsh.

Take a Card: R+B

Rhythm and Blues was merely soft rock with too much jazz in it. R+B became code for a Motown sound that blacks had the inside line to. Sadly it opened the door to disco, but also sired rap.

Rudy Currence whines about his baby, but figures a homemade “Christmas Card” will win her over. I dunno, Rudy, those girlish vocals might do it, instead.

Marvin Sapp has a snappy rockin’ backbeat to his “Christmas Card,” but infuses his urgency with soul. (That’s different than R+B, right? Wit’ da funk? Right?)

As Seen on TV: Family Guy/American Dad

The anti-Simpsons barfed and farted briefly, before it was taken up as a cause célèbre by the slacker generation and became to big to fail, despite the best efforts of boy-men writers.

Comedy Christmas bits include the “Peter Griffin Christmas Album” full of mumbly, nonsensible parodies. Hee hee. Oh, and an ironic take on “Jesus Child” as brainwashed braying of the brethren. Bazinga!

Rerun: the best are the big musical numbers like “Christmas Time is Killing Us” (black humor), and “All I Really Want for Christmas” (naughty).

The later series leans on more groovy music. “The Steve and Krampus Duet” is an R+B jewel in a sad ‘Beauty and Beast’ takeoff. Not much Christmas here, but it’s got Slavic tradition.

As Seen on TV: Garfield and Friends

Like the Simpsons a bit later, this series began with a Christmas special. The songs in ‘A Garfield Christmas’ are standard fare for cartoons (for A Prairie Home Companion children), tending toward the sentimental.

Worst is “Christmas in Your Heart” reading off discount bin greeting card lines. Skip it.

“A Good Ol’ Fashioned Christmas” at the end is middle-of-the-road laundered country pop. I like the jew’s harp though (excuse me: lamellophone).

An interesting music hall ditty by John (Thomas Huge) and Garfield (Lorenzo Music) contrasts the wide-eyed owner with the id-centric cat. “Can’t Wait Till Christmas” is mercifully brief, albeit bouncy.

An unexpected gem is the motor music in the background of the cat spying on the dog. “You Can Never Find an Elf When You Need One” is swung by Lou Rawls, but i like Deena Moore’s instrumental in some courthouse.

The cool cat intro, however, buckles us up to the Garfield zeitgeist: “Gimme Gimme Gimme Gimme” by Lou Rawls is pop Motown without regret.