Month: September 2022

Christmas Countdown: 15 pounds

Lot of weight gets thrown around around Xmas. It’s heavy, man.

BLUE comedy ALERT: Ivor Biggun jazzes up “All I Want For Christmas (Is an Great Big Dong).” No actual weight is given but Not too ostentatious, just fifteen inches long alludes to the mass. Oh, there’s a punchline, too.

The weight of obligation results in a gift of song from We Three, but the electro-pop of “Our Last Christmas Eve” is surly and pissy. It never snows, watching Hallmark, the 15$ tree… blech.

Too much to carry is on the list when “Santa and the Sidewalk Surfer” collide in the 1964 rocking comedy bit from The Crossfires (rereleased when they become The Turtles two years later). Included as wants are: a hundred and fourteen Freddie and the Snowmen surfin’ records, a Fender electric twangy surf guitar, a whole bunch of surfboard decals, And fifteen copies of Miserlou [an Old World folk song repurposed by surf-guitar master Dick Dale].

Shrill pop from Meghan Trainor admits “I Believe in Santa.” Though she makes it about herself: I gain 15 pounds a season (season), Blame Santa, he’s the reason (reason); I bake cookies just to please him–Ho, ho, ho, ’tis the season. Funky, tho.

Some Christmas songs simply list the images of that time of the year. Some do it well. Whispery alt-rock from Burkini Beach includes Ten foot tall fir trees, twelve foot high ceilings, all season sunrooms, open fires, fifteen pound turkeys, a hundred-year-old recipes… They file it under “#Xmas2017.” Yeah, Instagram gold. But, it gets me. Right here.

Christmas Countdown: 15 years

Side effects of Christmas: nostalgia, regret, remorse, music….

Alter Egel begins their calliope rock melody: Fifteen years ago today You had enough and ran away Every Christmas since that one was sad. But a “Blue Christmas” results from you returning. Don’t want that. ‘Cause then you’d leave again. Then there’d be peeing on your makeup and driving the van with the tree nailed to it off a cliff. You know how that goes.

Chumbawumba has a postmodern rocker (with hollow chanting and vinyl pops) that goes: Oh Christmas tree, oh Christmas tree How bent your branches seem to be; Nineteen twenty-one and all’s well, Another fifteen years and we’ll be laughing in hell. “Rubens has been Shot” presages WWII, and the weird new art scene, and perhaps existentialism. Yeah, let’s say that.

But, you wanna get freaky?! “Chrismysteries” from Johnathan Boggarty and the Yoghurt Man is expressionistic word jazz, f’r ‘zample: It’s been fifteen Christmases Since I’ve thought of you last, Since that time I’ve had a think And I don’t understand your past. Is this a remonstration on JC? Or uncanny valley AI poetry?

David Prince writes a country history of “My Christmas Wish” from 5 years old to ten years old to My greatest Christmas wish at fifteen was a new guitar. Not sure about you, but this sorrowful, modulated mess makes me sorry about that wish.

Also torturous, “Christmas Morning” is alt-pop froth from Evie Calabasas about–missing you?? Fifteen so many dreams, A town too small for us, Christmas Eve sat on your rooftop, Pen tattoos would never last. I can see it as a series on Prime, but i can’t see it.

You want “Heikki Lunta” on your side, especially if you’re Da Yoopers–they can get whatever they want when this upstate medicine dances. I remember Christmas Eve 15 years ago all the kids were crying; they didn’t have no snow. Punk polka tells the story of what happens next!

Christmas Countdown: 16≥

Pullin’ sixteen, coaches shoutin’ ho ho ho Who needs a sleigh, “Santa’s Got a Choo-Choo Train” honky-tonks Blake Shelton for all he’s worth (which it guess is a lot [100 million]). Good country fun.

The antidote for that would be Macabre’s “Holidays of Horror.” Simmons went crazy, Murdered sixteen, Fourteen of them family; He killed them For the holidays. 1987 spree-killing in Arkansas presented in music hall metal.

That reminds me of Set It Off’s classic metal “This Christmas (I’ll Burn It to the Ground).” and by it, they mean: One thousand gifts, and sixteen trees all lay in a heave in a cul-de-sac, I strike my match, and I drench the trail of gasoline. Yeah, it’s like that.

e. d. slyter gifts his wife with an Xmas song every year or so. Recently he sang the folk ballad “Sixteen” (as in I love you like we’re sixteen–I don’t mean that as a good thing). He admits to being a control freak and going through her stuff on a regular basis. But, hey, it’s Christmas.

Christmas Countdown: 16≤

Underage and feelin’ fine! The Beach Boys’ “Christmas Time is Here Again” claims: She’s so pretty but I’m so young When I’m sixteen I’m gonna have some fun ‘Cause Christmas, Christmas, Christmas time is here again. Retro rock of questionable responsibility.

“Sixteen Days to Christmas” is a rockin’ sad countdown of missing you, bay-bee. Kerr Donnelly Band give us another Elvis homage, and this one is all right. It does rock.

Christmas-adjacent, Anthony Oscar sings light folk/pop about a “Bouquet” of sixteen roses. Kicking carols down a Christmas-cobbled street While wind whistles through the snow: Can candlelight grow wings and carry me To the home, I used to know? Uncertain of intent, but diggin’ it.

Christmas Countdown: 17ç

Don’t forget Fountains of Wayne’s list: “I Want an Alien for Christmas.” Party rock that lists the qualities: flying, greenness, about seventeen eyes.

When Dr. BLT was seventeen, his dad shopped for Xmas roadside treats on the wrong side of the street with the folk kooky “Not the Kinda Ho (That Santa Had in Mind).” Word. Or at least ak-ward.

Jake Gussman hits the guitar begging to be invited over: It’s seventeen degrees out but I’m feeling warmer–Find another way to light a fire, again. “December’s Children” wants to be deep, but it’s just a cry for help. And a blanket. Pretty folk, though.

“There Goes Santa!” gets The Sneeks all reflective, like: Christmas eve, seventeen degrees, Got me thinking I might catch a cold and freeze. Garage rock that just tells it like it should be. No crying. Even with child commentary overlaid.

Christmas Countdown: 17√

Seventeen and Xmas? Crisis time! Let’s recall Jessica Molaskey and the hard-to-forget “Surabaya Santa.” This micro-opera about Mrs. Claus tells her tragedy from when she was just seventeen. Bra-freakin’-va!

Queen Elizabitch III intertwines times and ages from 17 (cold) to 25 (portentous) for the jazzy “A Free Woman in Chicago at Christmas.” Melancholic nostalgia with experimental scat and uncontrollable giggling.

Bukshot remembers When I was seventeen daddy hit a bad spell, so he raps about [BLUE ALERT] his “Broke Christmas.” You know, when kids are sacred, Get them presents it don’t matter what it’s paid with. From the money troubles, he resorts to shoplifting. And–and… ‘kay, there’s no happy ending in these beats. Sorry.

Also regretful about that seventeen-year-old time comes Ingrid Michaelson with some alt-rock poppiness in the form of “The Hat,” a symbol of what she knitted for you when it was cold. But now, three Christmases later, someone else is knitting for you. She dumped you. She’s sorry now.

Cellophane Linings whines, Christmas is just another day off from work for me And it’s been this way since I was seventeen in an emo-boy garage complaint, “Good Grief.” I feel ya, son, but find some merry in sumpin’, ‘kay? Cookies are good.

Christmas Countdown: 18<

BLUE ALERT rap “Foreign Xmas” is oddly nostalgic, Twist swearing while reminiscing. I’ll prolly’ wish I was still 18 when I’m 52: Good thing ’bout having kids will be the christmas mood. Dropping some wisdom on ya.

Armed with a Glock 18 and the F-word, Stupid Division raps BLUE ALERT “There’s No Reason to be Jolly.” Share the pain. (Santa, you’re next!) ‘Tis the season.

Cricket label ran my childhood, so i’m a fan of Rosemary Jun’s “I’ve Got 18 Cents.” This kid’s dilemma of what to buy whom for Christmas with that (adjusted for inflation = $1.90 today) is overly orchestrated kidsong full of celebration! Wait for that last note!

Joe Denim gets boy-rednick growing up with a sad plastic tree from Sears—must’ve lasted 18 years. Daddy’s solution was to buy a boatload of arms and hardware, then build a pile for a “Real Tree Camo Christmas.” Soft pop of the novel kind.

Christmas Countdown: 18>

Hokum by the bucket from Scotty McCreery who country/pops the reason for the season in “Christmas Comin’ Round Again.” Everyone’s forgiving everything, including that guy who hasn’t been home since he was 18….

Almost as cliche, Vanessa Campagna is heavily filtered for a “Diamond for Christmas.” It starts out innocently: A winter kiss acting all innocent baby Wrapped up in a blanket playin’ round like we’re 18–so not about carats at all. Cornball pop.

Sappy Daddy-on-leave country from Alan Doyle, “I’ll be There Christmas Eve” documents the desperate family man 18 hours out from Liverpool making the trek as seriously as possible. O. Kay. Fine.

The knee-slappin’ verzh of dumbin’ it down arrives with a shrill of air brakes from Styles Haury (that’s what he calls himself) in “Santa’s Comin’ in an 18 Wheeler.” Yee-haul.

Brent Kentrow remembers when the first few times he could say “It’s Christmas in Colorado.” 18 inches of snow, cheap decorations, and a roaring fire make for a mellow country melody. Friends, family are extra.

Christmas Countdown: 19!

Young Xmas love! We kissed beneath the mistletoe; We were just 19 years old sings Jack Mahon of his accented “Christmas Miracle.” It’s that kind of tinkly pop you can barely here in the back of a Starbucks.

A power outage for The Marsh Family causes the cry “Bring Us a Candle” for Christmas. Oddly the clock was stuck on 19… where are we?! Suprisingly good show tune pop.

And outside they were singing, The lights of Christmas Eve–But he’s lost in the darkness; Dreams are never what they seem Locked in Room 19 run the lines of the expressionistic experimental “Room 19.” Chanteuse Jill Tracy heralds in a scary Xmas.

Christmas Countdown: 19*

Well, the great Covid-19 Christmas song collection could fill its own blog. Stir crazy campers without enough to do overdo when it comes to talent. So let’s take a traipse down a short trail of offerings that mention that NINETEEN part (yes, in honor of 2019; but it’s its own thing, that number) for the holidays.

Strange man Rudy Ayoub gets cynically comic when “It is Covid-19 Christmas,” an upbeat browbeater of a pop jingle. Some of us liked being shut ins.

Rapping David King Jones is also gloomy in “The Covid19 Christmas Song.” It’s got me like–novelty music.

Roots of rock from Victor Copetti presents the earnest portrait “It’s a Covid Christmas.” Folk country strummin’; wistful more ‘n funny.

Dad rock brings the family friendly to “Covid Christmas.” Skoobie Snaks leans to lounge, but means well.

Strangely shaped Fathers blend in the punk with “The Christmas I could have Died.” Strangely still okay for kids.

An actual love song, “Christmas in Quarantine or: CO-HO-HOVID-19” slurs the alt lines with Daniel G. Harmann · Jasen Samford crooning from the heart. Baby, it’s Covid outside….