Aaron Walter flashes many numbers about in his spoken “No Bonus Checks This Year,” a holiday non-tradition to be sure. 100,000 seems to be the salary of the guy announcing your bupkis bonus, except for that 50% pay cut someone thinks he got. But you’re 30 working in this box o’ hell. I notices, however, that this is Circuit City store 880 (which Is sucking big time) (and prolly not there anymore). So, swearing.
Loreena McKennitt has taken the concept off “Dickens’ Dublin (The Palace)” as crafted us a new-age Celtic warbler about a poor waif freezing to death on the streets in 1842. Strangley, the homeless one narrates between verses with a rambling steam-of-consciousness. It’s all unsettling, haunting, moving.
“Great Moments in Redneck History #5” is spoken (drunk?) history to a lively background beat/twang. Hot Target may be makin’ stuff up, but i take the holiday magic seriously and this applies. A miracle, of sorts, is upon us.
Try Stone & The Ringers want something specific for Christmas: a D28 Modern from 1938. In other words, they’re saying, “Santa, Please Bring Me a Guitar.” Cool rock’n’roll noodling that asks for other instruments as well. I’d do it, Nick.
Fall in Green musically backs up a poem “One Hat” which prefers the UK Christmas dinner of ’38 to the one in ’45. The title makes hay of the single half of a turkey from the butcher due to rationing from the latter, so the singular turkey bootie on its only leg was a sad business, warn’t it?
Not sure where Hard Science is going with their modern electronica, but the child-preaching in front of the heavy beat gets my attention. How this mash-up becomes “Christmas, 1958” i will leave to my betters to discern.
“My Violent Daydream” by Swivel Stick is the morose letter to the loved one who ghosted on the date in question. Semi-metal with narrated interruptions. Angry whimsy.
Mad time traveling from Mike Viola’s unplugged beat rock “Snow Face” imagines When yesterday’s tomorrow it’s 1963, My mom’s Christmas shopping and there’s plenty of parking. A trippy clasp from the past.
When Bryan Dallas rockabillies “All I Want for Christmas is a Cadillac” it’s gotta be a ‘Sixty-three (or ’64). Skidoo.
The first “The Beatles’ Christmas Record (1963)” recounts their history a bit, but mixes wacky and tacky joyously. (Or would you rather indulge in the clever parody “1963 TV’s Kyle Fan Club Christmas Record” from TV’s Kyle? That’s why!)
Santa was delayed back in 1964, according to Dr. BLT in “Santa Got Stuck in Saskatchewan.” Poor fool, if only he’d followed this rockingly instructive tune, he’d not been so lost.
“Another Beatles’ Christmas Record (1964)” is largely a thank you for this (buying the book) a thank you for that (seeing the film) with only a tad wee bit o’ singing. Those airport receptions knocked us out, man! is a sample of the great words. Yet i dunno why Beatle peadles never caught on.
The seventh and last of The Beatles’ fan club Christmas records, known oddly enough as “The Beatles Christmas 1969 Record,” highlights how they do nothing together in the same room. A little this, a lots o’ that. Actually melody from Paul. Plug for Ringo’s movie. And lots of Ono.
Keeping it weird, yeah. Cate Le Bron DJs over Bradford Cox recounting a tragic holiday fire he came to too late in “Fireman.” That’s… that… uhh… yeah.
More oversea dads are missed by kids who hate the sneaky cowards who steal our planes and crash ’em into buildings. Dad’ll explain it all when he gets back, but the “Dear Santa 2002” letter is the spoken country assigned to tug on our heartstrings–or stomach contents. Uncle Ted Buckley tells it straight-arrowed.