Christmas Countdown: 4 measure/stuff

Phil Lea gets high pitched to go downtown, you know euphemistical-like. “Santa Comes Home” is all about after hours Christmas time, promising I’m talking 4 times the pleasure. R+B rapping.

More modern, Michael M avers “Baby, I Will Zoom You This Christmas.” It’s tough being apart during the Pandemic holidays. Please show me the tree 
In 4K HD
, he alt-rocks with festive gusto. Funny stuff.

La Buttue represents a girl who can’t get out of bed on “Xmas” despite pie and The carols sing On BBC Radio 4. Fragrant flute backs this echoic pop. Lonely fun.

Big Beautiful Williams notes “All I Want For Christmas” includes whiskey and smoke, but oddly begins with All i need is that gorilla glue number 4 With a big jacket wrapping around it You understand? Uhh, no. Don’t. (Inhalants? Medical supplements? DIY?) Melodic rap.

Carbon Leaf takes the Advent approach, counting the days of “Winter’s Eve” (including December 4, when he pushes the cloves into a tangerine. Despite the barn burning pop, it’s angsty.

The Stayawakes take us back to the ’90s where they CEL-E-BRATE with pop driven rock with a passel of parcels, including Police Academy 4 on the big screen at Christmas. “Let’s Stayawake at Christmas” is more than a suggestion, it’s the whole shebang.

Christmas Countdown: 4 winds/walls

In Louis Armstrong’s original jazz classic “‘Zat You, Santa Claus?” the poor schmoe is terrified by the cold winds and banging noises. Others, like the chucklesome Harry Connick, Jr. note the four winds. I like the sultry, seductive Lyn Stanley who seems to have snares set with bass rhythms and scat.

Four towns over is where she ran to after a Christmas spat, so Make Like Monkeys retro the rock for “Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town (So Why Can’t U).” Makes me wanna holla.

John Moore is trapped in an airport whiteout, so has the time to notice the “35 Different Kinds of Snow” out there in where the four winds blow. Hopping pop. Wee!

Meanwhile… inside… home is closing in around us. Dala Girls are heartbroken ’cause you’re leaving during the holidays, in your “Hockey Sweater.” Four corners to my bed, Four angels ’round my head… count ’em. Gorgeous harmony for pop.

Stuck within the four walls is Alayna Kaelyn, separated from you in the sad “Alone at Christmas.” Looking at the sky a lot, so maybe no roof. Slow, breaking pop.

Looks like a prison, esp. when you’re alone. The soft pop of “(I Fucking Hate) Christmas” BLUE ALERT from Frank Hamilton prettily describes What do you buy the man who’s lost everything: Four walls, three chords, two bottles of wine. Even the fireplace is oppressive.

These four walls they keep caving in; It doesn′t feel like Christmas time at all, Capri moans prettily in the suffering Paean “Christmas in Our Hearts.” Stuck in masks that hide our grins is more nice than my memories of the times.

Covid Christmas” also troubles John Rahme, stuck between four walls. Pounding amateur rocking about going insane.

Carrying Goodness makes the best of it by drinking to “Winter.” It rocks. You barely notice being stuck.

Christmas Countdown: 4 people

Stephen Colbert’s ’08 Christmas special was finale-ed with his co-stars Elvis Costello and John Legend about the individualistic free will thing for the holidays. “There are Much Worse Things to Believe in” is a jazz-shaped show tune lounge act that makes you go hmm. And a one-man four-part Christmas carol, so really individualistic.

Cha$e D’Amico likes “Ice Skating.” Got the blades running on the ice so smoothly, I’m like a 4th Migo feeling bad and boujee! Sharply syncopated rap. Not like skating, musically.

In the best times VonE says Regardless of what I got you felt the loving In our house of just four. But the weird atonal falsetto meandering of “Merry Christmas” makes this rap (?) a horrorshow. A long one.

Chris Rea wails on his axe for the IRONIC “Joys of Christmas.” I see all the tough guysout on the street... Fathers of 2, 3 maybe 4, what are they gonna do? Masterful wordjazz that’s not joyful, not at all.

Also down in the dumps, Weatherfield barely sings his way through “Christmas Song.” Folk misspoken leads us to loss: This Christmas there’ll be 2 or 3 of us If we’re lucky maybe 4. As way of explanation, the las line is I just quit drinking so i know nothing at all.

I have four children strong and proud, And they have children too, warbles John McDermott. But it makes him have “Christmas Memories,” so with the finest Celtic pipes he hopscotches around hearths and homes with earnest cornballery.

More family fun from “Holiday Fun,” a jumpin’ breathless rocker from Andres Javier. Set to descend on the fam with gifts in tow, he reports: My bros and I are the four kings come in the night. Get that Christmas spirit ready, y’all.

Christmas Countdown: 5 & 10

Ever since ‘It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas” mentioned looking into the Five and Ten (to shop, y’cheapskate), discount stores pop up in Xmas carols. Consider the punk version here (Thanks for making it nearly unrecognizable, The Wheelz). Or even “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Hanukkah.” BShep doesn’t mess much with the lyrics, though.

Bill Anderson dredges up the 1969 country hokum in “My Christmas List Gets Shorter Every Year.” See, in the good ol’ days most of the presents just came from the five and dime. Now, this broken family can’t get none. Spoken heartbreak.

While we’re talking money, Hoyt vanTanner recounts the Christmas at the Expose Cabaret in Monkeys Eyebrow where the stranded motorist spent “Christmas With Carol.” The Madame distributes to the strippers their Xmas bonus: Here’s gas stations finest five dollar scratch offs. Funny country.

Last Call Christmas” is also stuck in a bar. She’s out with someone else, see. Shelby Lee Lowe is laying out fives, drinking to for to get drunk. Juke joint country.

Elliott Yamin only wants everyone to have “A Very Merry Christmas.” Oh, And five cents every song we’d sing, oh. Not too greedy. Disco pop.

While shopping for your “Christmas Sweater” don’t forget to stop at at Starbucks: Wondering what color is on the new holiday cups; I hope you remembered to bring your red card–Save five percent and put more in the tipjar. The River’s Edge has your whole spending trip planned. Sweet blues pop sing-along.

S.T.R.O.U.P. apologizes in masterful rock’n’roll: Here is my gift I got for you (At the five and dime); please don’t kill me right now… So “Merry Christmas (Sorry I’m Late).”

Dirty Robots tell the story of living frugally with some dirty blues rock and a “5$ Christmas Tree.” Finn-tastic.

Christmas Countdown: 5 A.M.

5 o’clock! A.M. or P.M.? It makes a lot of difference around Christmas. Michael Bethel coos sweetly in “Harmattan Christmas” despite the travel plans: Our bags are packed We were up by five. A sleepy, yet hopeful rendition.

Randy Newman’s “Christmas in Cape Town” is an argument against Apartheid more than a seasonal salute. But in his bluesy rock he tells his girl, You know my little brother, babe, Well, he works out at the diamond mine; I drove him out there at five this mornin’ past the Blacks who were hoping for work but get none. Will the spirit survive?

The kids (well, Andy & The Odd Socks) have another POV: It’s 5am and Dad’s still snoring (Come on, wake up!) Let’s get out of bed. “We’re All Together (At Christmas Time” is hyperactive kid song that sings.

Or the significant other under an Xmas fever? You pulled me out of bed at
Five am Telling me it’s snowing On Christmas
begins The Limbo Motel’s “Christmas Morning.” I totally get that.

What makes the ultimate “Christmas Girl“? She Get’s in line by 5 AM a week before the sales begin, according to the retro pop of The Easy Button. Bopping fun.

Then there’s the perpetual boyfriend: Santa gon’ be leaving at 5 a.m.; Baby, I can pull up, it don’t matter what time it is. Rap from Why Don’t We offers it all to be “With You This Christmas.”

Despite announcing It’s five in the morning, the kids are awake–It’s Christmas for heaven’s sake! Amy Grant’s “Christmas for You and Me” is low, slow country twaddle. Try to stay awake.

Mooseknuckle definitely thinks this is too early: Christmas morning 5 am, Wanna go to bed again… “Mooseknuckle Christmas” is about being without–happiness, joy, booze. This isn’t da blooz, but it rocks that way.

Christmas Countdown: 6 feet tall/deep BLUE ALERT

Catchy jazzy R+B from J Sun picks up where we left off with “Quarantine Christmas.” And if there’s no place to go Let it snow, let it snow As we gather in a row Under our 6 foot mistletoe. Cool.

Courtney J wants you to know “Christmas With My Boo” involves A handsome 6 foot chocolate treat. R+B siren song.

A 6 foot tall perfect woman with horns gives Nightlash the perfect song as she collects their souls in “Jingle Hellz… Devils All the Way.” Spoken word metal, ya?

Additional metal from Type O Negative berates the traditions as The stockings are hung, but who cares, Preserved for those no longer there–Six feet beneath me sleep. “Red Water (Christmas Mourning)” moans and pokes at your soul. Uh….

Wednesday 13 asks Santa for a freshly dug grave (6 feet deep) so that they can be “Buried by Christmas.” Angry metal at last. BLUE ALERT

Retribution from Brandon Cueto, who orders the reindeer to “Slay” that special awful someone with R+B anger. My gifts all go under the tree While you go under six feet.

Flying rap from Dax BLUE ALERT where “The Grinch Goes Viral.” Dealing with prejudice (Green Lives Matter!), he declares: I come from a place where they sleigh you Then artistically wrap you in boxes And the 6 foot drop you experience Is down the chimney when Santa drops it. Clever, but doesn’t end well.

With allusions to West Side and Batman, TyMe WArp raps the caution “Merry Christmas Ebenezer.” Don’t wind up 6 feet deep! Is this kid rap?

Vandals maxed out their cards shopping for you. And FROM you?? “Thanx for Nothing” is the punk retort. I hope you die Choking on your putrid pile of presents 6 feet high, is the actual thought to count. Fantastic BLUE ALERT song.

Off the South Pole Tarzan & the Beachwaiters present a BLUE ALERT tribute to Tarzanta “Riding Waves for XMAS.” Thrashing (NOT surf) rock looking for at least 6 foot waves. Carolbunga!

Christmas Countdown: 6:00

Tis’ the Season” by Eunike (feat. Tom Sycamore) is that folk rocker that allows how seriously these musicians take their craft. Hit, though? It smells like everything else out there. Gleeful at times: 6 am It’s Christmas morning, Running down the stairs.

Dream Theater goes the industrial punk route on “6:00“: Six o’clock on a Christmas morning, And for what? Their insistence is comparable, but their angst is passionate (as opposed to passion that’s angsty). Points.

DeDe Kimble and Fraser Watt miss waking up at 6am running down the stairs for the holiday. They miss that frame of mind where you can “Come Home This Christmas.” This sorrowful pop ballad notes the difference of only a year ago. But, if you keep listening, this loss of childhood is actually a pandemic quarantine crisis. Well, i’ll read into it what i want.

Other ways to hate this time? “Hungover on Christmas Day” is a problem for Scott Forsyth: It’s barely turned 6 in the morning And the little ones are already out of bed, Their little feet stomp in the rhythm Of the throbbing that’s inside my head. Anthem rock that pounds a bit too hard. Ow.

Ready to actually rock? Bubble Made Imagination considers indie artist Jeff Rosenstock in the stream-of-consciousness bopper “Meat Pie Holiday Weekend“: I′m thinking about him at 6:47am On this Christmas Day; I need a skin doctor and a head doctor And I can’t stand up. But you’re a standup kinda band–hats off.

Christmas Countdown: 7 hours/days

Overspending and spending 7 shitty hours on a bus to my hometown, Girlfriend Material whines altrock about “Xmas Specials.” All this joy sucks. I mean, is that all there is?

Chris McParland has only “Seven Days to Christmas.” Two problems for this ukulele pop serenade: the wife’s list is interminable, and he’s too drunk to shop. Maybe he’ll take her to the pub and buy her drinks….

Happy Accident has got the existential blues, but in the garage pop of “The Days” we take it back to When Christmas evening it took 7 days. Those were the days.

The Chosen Girls (feat. Madisynn) enjoy “Spending Christmas With My Baby” because with Only seven days to Christmas My baby he with me, Spending quality time treating me like a queen. Then there’s six, then five, four, etc. And he’s still a treat. Hypnotic soul.

When you’re WITHOUT that baby, however, you count differently: It’s only seven days ’til Christmas, Six more ’til New Year’s Day; It’s not a good time to feel this way. Hurts sings “All I Want for Christmas is New Year’s Day” with boy band slickness.

In Time for Christmas” measures the 7 days since he saw you. But Find Me continues the boy band flavor for a second helping of cheesy pop.

More happy slave music from Harry Connick Jr. See “The Happy Elf” says, Seven days a week, Ev’ry week of the month, And ev’ry month of the year, He’s got us making presents; And I’m happy! Big band showtune from ‘Harry for the Holidays’ perpetuates the stereotype of the made-for-labor Santa’s helper.

A lovely personal scene from Blackaby about “Last Year’s Christmas Tree.” Everyone’s there. Caroline’s special Gin, But Terry’s not joining in this year–Dry for seven days. Smooth single malt pop.

Even more personal is Leek Mali’s “Christmas Lockup.” In his 6 by 8 he’s rapping alone. No one else is there. In fact I hit Ms. Lela, she ain’t smoked a jay in seven days. So, not as merry. But only a minute and a half.

The Listies mock ’12 Days’ with their “7 Days of Christmas.” Australian gross kid humor is lost in translation for me. Hope you cope.

The Press help out with actual rocking involving nights. “Seven Nights of Chanukah” starts arguments over which food, games, calendaring, and the actual number of nights are appropriate. It’s a boss happening mystery.

Christmas Countdown: 8 high/low/far

How far? “THE GRINCH” by Alexander Pielsticker (ft. Manny Houston) promises through instrumental rap that he’s not as scary as the guy from ‘8 Mile.’ So not that far.

I’m eight stories up… bury me six feet deep… Hishandsmilk (feat. Hashter) self degrades while bemoaning Rudolph’s outcast fate in “Have Christmas Without Me.” This is morose rap, so it trickles more than tom-toms.

Deseis is awakened Christmas Eve Night, but not by Santa. More cutesy rap revels in “The Night I Battled Krampus.” I mean he was eight feet tall without even tryin, but the showdown becomes a rap battle. Sick burns ensue.

As monstrous, BLUEALERT “Saint Dickolas” has eight inches as well as eight reindeer. And this chipmunk rap details how he’s using it. Pant, moan.

You know what should be eight feet tall? The tree from “Del Davis Tree Farm.” Follow along with the industrial (yet drawling) rap from Primus.

Or, the other kind of tree, the “Pringle Rothell Christmas Tree.” this turns out to be an 8 foot yucca on a barbed wire fence All dressed up in aluminum cans. Race Ricketts plays this unplugged folkish recitation for cultural significance.

Rocking his love, Crlo wants you to be his “Santa Baby.” He does promise to deck the halls with 8 inches of snow tonight. Hair metal sentiment.

Jeff Mac is far from where he loves. His peri-prog rocker “One More Step” poeticizes this trouble with similes about soldiering, weather, and pain. Still, gonna fight: One step at a time, Eight more makes nine…. Will he make it??

Christmas Countdown: 8 yo

Painful childhood memories contribute to BLUE ALERT rap from Yabba in the syncopated “No Christmas.” So poor, there was no Christmas. Plus which, that’s Santa in blood; I’m killing them raindeers I don’t give a fuck As shot start to spray that 8 year old me. Hard times. Now she rich.

Goo Goo Dolls address the rockabilly to the naughtiest of eight year olds: “You Ain’t Gettin’ Nothin’.” Underage drinking, grand larceny, pet torture… i think 5 to ten would be more appropriate than nothin’. Super cool.

Matt Dorrien uses rose-colored glasses to “Sure Miss Those Days at Christmas.” Sure there was snow and tree shopping, but also Long ago when I was eight I can still remember My parents fought all holiday (All those broken dishes). Ironic easy listening pop.

Matthew West similarly asks Take me back to eight years old (These days Peace on Earth is hard to find). Strangely the pop “Hope of Christmas” is in simple prayer. Do eight-year-olds do it better?

Eight years old and in a wheelchair… in line to see Santa–holy cow! “Santa’s Prayer” by Doc Edwards and the Buffalo River Boys is a plodding country tear-jerker about the coma-bound trucker daddy. Holy Moley Cow!

Now a “Hat Made of Mistletoe” could be a creepy number, but Cody Johnson’s barn-burning fiddling and the childish revelation: Miss Darla, how you sparkle like a shiny new toy, And I know I’m just an eight year old lonesome cowboy leads us to be happy for the little entrepreneur. Yippee-kiss-ya.

Just as sure is the protagonist of Bruce Hornsby’s leader of the tree searching posse song: Such a strong boy could haggle too; Eight years old could arm wrestle you, Fast as a horse and slick as a snake; We’ll make it snappy and won’t be late. But this ragtime rocker becomes “Lost in the Snow,” and this little kid is dying…