Month: November 2022

Christmas Countdown: 6 feet apart

Social distancing during the pandemic Xmases of 2020 (and even 2021) resulted in a loss of spirit, as heard in “I Miss You” by Crz N Go Sounds. Funky rap that points out: I can’t help but complain about this, Six feet apart It’s way too far—

“Lonely Christmas” can result from This time My imaginary art Is to hold you in my arms, But we’re still six feet apart. Milan Tausch slows the role to pop tragedian. (Hint: bring a translator.)

Louie Volta has a warning for Santa this “COVID Christmas“: So save your sleigh for another day And stay six feet away. Swinging lounge easy listening. But a downer.

Creature Comfort also recommends Santa comes when I’m asleep Six feet from me he shall keep. But in this “Christmas in Quarantine” he’s got a bubble (I’ve got you Under the mistletoe). Blues rock, but well planned.

Sarah Larkin, on the other hand, relates her family’s dysfunctions, so “I’ll be in Quarantine for Christmas” is not so bad, And I’ll enjoy Christmas beyond a 6 foot distance. Sassy Dixieland ukulele fun.

Jacob Restituto makes the best of it with electronic bopping in “Christmas in Quarantine.” I’m giving love without reason ‘Cause you know it’s the Season Six feet, but I still feel close to you. So much silver lining, i can’t see the grey clouds at all.

Making a statement, Pauli’s “Covid Christmas” pop sirens out better angels like: Unless it’s essential I’ll just put my mask on–Six feet apart showin’ kindness it ain’t that hard to do; Love’s in the air but you know Covid is too. She’s enlightened, and you can be, too. (Used to think Corona was just a beer.)

Taking a stand, The Liggetts claim nothing can’t stop the Nativity! in “Christmas in Quarantine.” Can we sing our neighbors carols; Leave some treats at their door If we promise to keep it Six feet or more? Electronic pop/rock for the whole family.

Taking minds off it, “What shall We Crochet on Christmas Day? (You can Knit Take Our Christmas Away)” by Declan McKenna smoothly folk improvises, while still keeping six feet from others.

Amateur ‘Holly Jolly’ parody “Covid Christmas” from Lossed Soul gets scary: Don′t forget your mask ya know and you better keep 6 feet–Oh, no its COVID tho in everyone you see Somebodys close to you then you’re six feet deep. Laughing? Crying? Bored?

More a freestyle scat than a rap, “Merry Christmas in the Land of the Free” by ‘James Watson, Sr.’ proclaims: Men and women are still standing under the mistletoe Blowing kisses six feet away and Wishing for the throwback days Of juliet and Romeo. Let’s see–Nose shining brightly and pumpkin spice coffee are mixed with still under the British colony and the virus took away many… Super weird.

Jazz lounge sexiness from Leslie Elaine in “Social Distance Christmas.” And when Santa comes on his sleigh (Hey!) He better stay six feet away! actually empowering.

Also a bit pissy, Abbey Scott sings “Quarantine Christmas” like a pop diva. Hanging up my stockings 6 feet a part and Setting all my presents 6 feet a part. Toilet paper for my Xmas list!

Upbeat pop and fun imagery lift up Emily Seibert’s “Quarantine Christmas.” Fight over a turkey with a six-foot pole Lose, go home and eat the cookie dough roll! Now i’m nostalgic for house arrest!

Christmas Countdown: 6 years/months

Loss at Christmas can be the worst, but Finlay Hatton begins to heal in the pounding garage pop of “In My Arms.”  I never thought That you’d go this soon, That you’d fade away In my arms, in my life–6 years since we took you home. Yeah, sad.

Adnam is asking for your indulgence in his uncertain rap: So give me a moment, give me a chance Give me six months to change your stance. “Christmas Type Beat” is a pasted together goose casserole. Still a bit of fun.

Buried somewhere in the electronic fun of Seen.’s “When You’re Back for Christmas” is a broken pop love song. Been 12 months since I saw you; Been 6 months since you texted me back; Is this what we’ve come to–? It does end asking for a kiss, so not quite yet defeated.

Also busted up, Liv Waters feels the cold snow brush across my face tonight; Reminds me how my heart felt 6 months ago when you left. “Ain’t Nothing Merry,” listeners. Pop puling. I mean this one will help you wallow.

Steven Curtis Chapman recounts the poverty of a family in “Christmas is All in the Heart.” After six months on the new job They’re still barely getting by… but the lesson the presentless boys learn will be passed to their country song families later. It doesn’t suck if it’s a song.

The Bilinda Butchers celebrate what matters as well with flashy girl band pop in “All My Friends,” as when they plan: This is my Christmas list Even if it’s six months ’til. You know, fun games about what probably won’t come to be.

Take six months to pay these bills, croons Charles Brown in “Christmas Comes But Once a Year.” This ragtime blues makes that allowance, as Christmas is just so wonderful otherwise. See if you agree while tapping your toe.

Mrs. Claus might disapprove, but when “Santa Writes Home” he’s an incurable romantic: Your hair is so curly and your skin is so soft , I’m gonna drop off these toys and take the next 6 months off, says his letter. Dan Sullivan told me so. In country song. Color me tickled.

Christmas Countdown: 6 weeks/days/hours

Libby Hammer addresses that confusing Australian “Christmas in the Summertime” with kidsong frenzy. I’m gonna spend six weeks In the swimming pool, she brags (but recommends sun screen).

Ariana Grande counts the days with her boo in “True Love.” After six days in your arms I got that tattoo on my heart. Singing about love in pop music means never having to say you’re sorry.

Kristin Wilson is sorry she fell in love–with a guy who left! Her “Christmas Wish” is to control time: I know New Years’ Eve is just six days away but I don’t want to start a new year feeling This way. Woo woo extra-slow pop,

Latitude matters: It doesn’t help the sun for six damn days it disappears And on the seventh day it drags us kickin’ into a New Year, declares “S.A.D. Xmas” according to Kevin Hansen with superior indie sentimentality.

Never too late to wish: Six days till Christmas And I don’t know what I need; I just know that when it gets here I want you there with me. Sultry R+B from Liz Elias in the form of “Six Days Till Christmas.” Loving.

Frida Hyvönen misses something else around the holidays. Six hours back across the ocean is something called “N.Y.” Her fortissimo lounge pop makes clear her Christmas wish. Let her have it. She’s good.

Christmas Countdown: 6 yo

“North of Heaven” is south of Hell warbles the vibrato of metal Gods Wisdom for their anti-carol. When I Was 6 Xmas Was Sixmas go the acid-washed hell-lyrics. Oh my.

From the parental POV Buck Owens gets old country bragging on his littlun’s Xmas wishlist, and i quote: Well, I’m-a gotta quit a-actin’ like a kid, I’m six years old and it’s time I did. Still, the lists asks for “One of Everything You Got.” You know, to make it easier on Santy.

Oh, When I was six years old All I wanted was Candy in the stocking, trills Johan Glidden in the precious pop of “Everything I Had.” See, he didn’t want much. Everything he wanted he already had. Like Jesus.

Also indoctrinated early is the young questioner in The Statler Brothers’ “Whose Birthday is Christmas?” It’s hard to understand in a big peoples’ land Especially if you’re six years old–is the cornball easy listening country rationale.

You want bourgeoise? Try Bette Midler barely making it though the ‘Home Alone 2’ love theme “Somewhere in My Memory.” Where in this memory? Memories of my childohood When I was 5, 6, and 7. On Christmas Day. A cry for help.

When does that Santa/Daddy betrayal hit? Is it so young?? Waiting for presents Christmas Eve, the main character in Kulina’s “Christmas Song” sees someone else stumble down to the Christmas tree. In his own words, his reward: I’m only six years old, I got nothing but coal. Somebody help this waif!

Perhaps the epiphany isn’t evil when you realize what Mama went through for ya. Now that I grew up, I’m the gift, ain’t that some–Every day it’s Christmas, when you’re Six, I’m too legit, raps 6LACk & Summer Walker in “Ghetto Christmas.” Heartfelt.

Julius Pe happy raps “Coming Home” to see the family. He’s so wiggly he claims, I feel like I am 6. Sweet! Too sweet! Stop with all the sweetness!

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 finale

Your family?! Reality Student Ministry wants to invite you to “A Family Christmas.” Uncle Joe’s got 7 toes. Paul collects action figures. Mammy’s got hard sucking candy. Rap it!

el enigmA has a similar pitch wherein the family members are Different but together like a 7 layer salad. “Grateful” is a rap or reverence, however, while still smiling.

For others, the more the merrier: who’s at the door; I’m sure there’s room for 7 more; We’ll make some pallets on the floor… country drawl out Joey + Rory for “It’s Christmas Time.” Comfortable chaos under control.

Bitching on the bandwagon, Saucy Samurai Spice’s “Holly Jolly Saucy Samurai Christmas” bemoans the length of the season and all the folderol–but finally admits to a list: I just want a big fat tellie, Or can you give me seven crates of beer. The rocker ends on a happy note, so file in the nice cubby.

Jocie Denae gets flirty with “Hey Santa.” She’s rapping naughtily to that seven figure man to get what she wants. Better check that list twice.

This Christmas I call Jesus out by Carving a seven claims Sharks Teeth in the odd chanted “Star of the Morning.” Go with it.

Jolly rap from Hrkbrkblake, “Holiday Spirit” jounces around with trade and digs [I ain’t Roddy this ain’t 7 but just say what’s in the box], but makes the time worthwhile.

Christmas Countdown: 7 seas and stuff

All around the world… all across the seven seas… “Thanks for Christmas” pops up XTC. It’s catchy. The strings help.

Lighter, but just as catchy of pop, sails in The Crowd at Dexter’s Theater with “Thicken Thinner.” So the tale tells: Traveling the seven seas, It’s hell out there I can really tell you; But I’m gonna make it home for Christmas–I gotta decorate a tree. I’m getting seasick!

The other reason to measure such an endless expense? jardinière‘d sail seven seas, Walk pole to pole, crawl on my knees–If it would only bring you home. “Christmas Grieve” is a driving folk ode to remember.

Bringing the funk (and the Grinch) Snoop Dogg and October London and Cocoa Sarai’s “Funky Christmas” don’t want no Christmas... Heaven knows I did seven shows; No Santa Claus no ho-ho-ho’s. It’s a downer you can dance to.

Lohmann and Ballinger send up the ’70s with “Santa Claus is Coming to Our Disco.” Not only that, but Hanukkah and Kwanzaa Is coming to our disco, Seven candles and Muhini. The reindeer are in drag and Baby Jesus is feeling the beat. Everybody get down tonight.

Christmas Countdown: 7 yo/depths

Blues Traveler is feeling the blues ’bout the season, but with uplifting and reverential folk rock (like old Cat Stevens), My God in heaven now I feel like I’m seven! “Christmas” is a righteous journey, and you might end up somewhere you didn’t expect to be if you tag along.

Bethany Joy, also, wants to play in it all like a seven year old. But the cliches of easy listening haunt her “Snow.” Its jazzy undertones don’t save it.

Aware of cliches, Josh Worster wants the “Right Christmas,” even if the snow reaches seven feet deep. I just need you and I comes off more believable somehow, once the literary air has been cleared.

Dragonette is experiencing the time of the year: candy cane, snow is almost seven inches deep… but “Merry Xmas (Says Your Text Message)” on the 27th of December. Her reply is BLUE ALERT appropriate to your untimeliness. Swinging pop.

BVJ The Project doesn’t want much “For Christmas“–but a 40 inch wig and 7 inch heels are on there. Sassy rap.

Thiqq Miqq claims Santa is 3 feet tall, but wears 7 inch heels in the amateur rap(scream) “We Wish You a Merry Thiqqmass.” Skippable.

Not as dismissible, All Students can bad-rap, too. But for Christmas all they want is a toaster to drop in the bath, or a 7 foot tree to drop a noose from. Ever since Trudy left (and my car failed inspection) they’ve decided “New Year No Me.”

Christmas Countdown: 7th

Laura Nyro may have “Christmas in My Soul,” but All God’s sons have gone to trial, including the Black Panthers, the Chicago 7, and the Homeless Indian on Manhattan Isle. Siren sharp folk.

David DiMuzio (feat. Sam Mangubat) had “My Best Christmas Eve,” But it’s January 7th, and it looks like you’ve vanished. So it’s time for a weepy pop ballad of missed connections.

Bozo is all about the high. “A Bozo Twistmas” asks all the questions stoners ask, like Why does my car smell like a hobo? Is Jeffrey going to come near me? What about that guy on Seventh Avenue? Unplugged uncertain rock.

Gervarus “G” Giles is trying to help when he explains he’ll pick you up on the second bring you back on the seventh. But with all the “Cider & Hennessey” for the holidays i’m not sure this rap promise is binding.

Andrea Rodriguez has got you on her “Naughty List.” Wake up, baby, she chides, Do you wanna go round seven? Whoa. That’s pretty naughty. Inuendo express!

Christmas Countdown: 7 weeks/months/years BLUE ALERT

After Halloween “Suddenly it’s Christmas” Seven weeks before the day. Loudon Wainwright III morosely serenades with uke folk about the longest holiday. Ha!

American Mammoth Jackstock wishes “Merry Christmas Lonelies” with calm, unplugged rock and acid-washed psychedelic lyrics: on a thursday, seven months, now: you exploded; didn’t know how. Search me.

Shocked to be alone on Christmas Eve, Getaway Car rocks out Seven months ago
We were all right, I believed it. But this is an “All Time Low.” Stop believin’.

Trying to get back into the season, Rakz Radiant reveals It’s been 7 years since I got into this scene. But the rap “Get Sleighed” is too cool to ever get jolly.

Brutalligators has spent almost seven holidays Eleven thousand miles away from you–on the other side of the equator! So then “Christmas in July” for him would be the right kind of weather for you. Gentle rock serenading sells it.

Regrets galore [I miss everyone i’ve ever met but a few of you more sharply] from Ember Knight about a certain someone taken for granted. There was trouble And i didn’t snitch for 7 years and then it was too late. But in her “Christmas Song” she still asks if you’ll remember her on the holidays. Grand piano pop.

Ella Ion plays that game in reverse, calling out someone in her driving pop “Christmas” song–You’ve wasted seven years now. But she wants you know she’ll be there for you.

Every Christmas morning for the last seven years Queen Elizabitch III has been eyeballing the mantle and suffering “Stocking Envy” over her sister’s loot. BLUE ALERT, but it’s sibling rivalry so it’s understandable. Catty pop.