Year-round Yuletide oddities
1948, Xmas eve, with a full moon over town, “Stagger Lee” shot Billy DeLions, according to The Grateful Dead. See, the way i heared it, was back in 1895… but never you mind. It’s the song that goes along. American funk rock. (P.S. it keep hearing 1940, but genius.com tells me otherwise.)
Ben Hammer’s “1948 Christmas Day Photo” is even more funky with howling blues putting down the problems of the season. I guess; can’t get past the cacophony to tell what the hello-there is going on.
Paulo Furtado, The Legendary Tigerman, lays down the blues from Christmas the year he was born (he got shoes) until now. “Fuck Christmas Baby (I Got the Blues)” is less casual BLUE ALERT and more musical hoedown.
Jami Smith gets all filial with the feels in “Christmas 1992.” Sentimental country pop, so you are supposed to choke up.
An antidote to that saccharin would be the sermons and feedbacks of “Christmas 1992” from Heart Heart Julia. Experimentally hopeful with those ‘Frosty’ lines.
Less hopeful, Sam Weinberg’s nostalgia sounds like nails on a chalkboard and his snarky “Christmas Eve, 1992” raises more figurative questions than gives peace. Piano bar (+ harmonica!) sadness.
Indie pop garbling brings Figure (the indie pop project of Yoshinobu Hasebe) to “Christmas Eve of 1992,” a mixed outlet of hope and grief.
Mentioning the not-quite-virgin birth of a celebrity born in ’92 in “Miley Christmas,” Robert Lund and Spaff knock off ‘Christmas Song’ so they can show-shame the made-over diva-in-the-making. Cruel.
Sam Wineman’s over you like it’s ’92. In “New Year’s T” (feat. Andrew Scott Bell) he’s into the holiday dump (New Year New me No you) and gets a bit BLUE ALERT about it. So be warned of this adorable pop rap.
Frankie Staton is Over You in “Christmas 1992.” I’d stand back, m’man. Raging blues make it so.
How long they don’t forget… since the Jay-by.
“It’s Christmas Eve” claims two thousand years–so long ago… Easy listening piano bar from Angela Mahon. Never did so little message sound so well sung.
Two thousand years ago three wise men left their home, begins Reba McIntire with her iconic sass in “This Christmas.” More loungey than country.
Upper beat prog rock from Joy Williams, “2000 Decembers Ago” dreamscapes the query: did anyone notice back then what was happening to the whole (not quite yet Christian fragment) of the world?
Giovanni McGlone raps the way to find salvation: Yo! 2000 Years ago, He came and paid my tolls, from “To Be Jolly.” It counts!
Even though it’s been 2000 years, “It’s Christmas” country-splains Jimmy Wooten. Here comes the holy holy holy chorus! No fear!
The hope that has slumbered for 2000 years, sing the Muppets with John Denver about “The Peace Carol.” Gentle country, but was the world waiting for that long until JC was birthed?? Who’s been doing this slumbering recently? Confusion.
Avidly mystical, Over the Rhine wants a “White Horse” for Christmas–to ride over the town, in the sky, to Bethlehem 2000 years ago. A lullaby of new age/pop descent.
Santa, on the other hand, spent 2000 years on the North Pole… according to Jeremy Lister. (Always thought those two were the same guy.) It’s been so long, however, that “Santa’s Lost His Mojo.” Happens when you’re old. Jiggedy blues pop.
Fans abound for the most famous reindeer of all.
Kidsong likes the counting song, hence “Nine Counting Rudolph” from Brian Kinder. Catchy, but not his best.
Asiansploitation and Byron S. mock Lourdes with their “Rudolph.” It’s all about–
“The Reindeer Song” by Daniel Dennis and Mason Douglas (as Sno’Rida and Mista’Toe) white-rap out the credit due the nine. Celebratory shouting to commence.
“Hamildolph” is the epic parody of ‘Hamilton’ from Eclipse 6. Worth the time reliving the bullied fawn’s tale.
“Gee, Rudolph Ain’t I Good to You?” is the Nat King Cole classic funnied up by The Christmas Jug Band. Unrequited gift-bringing is so bluesy.
Hey is terribly useful, so it has been adopted by many languages. I can’t be bothered to pursue the etymology, so we’ll assume other languages borrowed our grunt.
Ricky Martin pairs with Rosie O’Donnell (flashback!) to bemoan how bad a shopper we is in “Ay, Ay, Ay, Its Christmas.” This wants to be corrida, but it’s tequila pop. Close Harmony Friends jazz this up with a cappella boss nova. Trust me, it’s better. (Jipsta gets gender fluid with his mad rave rendition. Ai, papi.)
No Doubt’s “Oi to the World” is the punk cure to The Vandals. It’s a fun musical journey, not like the offending scratch of real punk (which neither are–sell outs!).
“Oi Oi Oi! It’s Christmas Time” is a folk/blues blend on the dregs of punk. Sorts lays it out like a reflective wintertime carol. But there’s hope in it. Deal, wankers.
Hey is a rock ‘n’ pop staple in songs to get us to sing-along. Altogether now.
Red State Update want us to all touch each other (until the song gets ruined) with “Hey It’s Christmas.” They tried.
Just Crackers (family friendly this time) try the pop “Hey Hey It’s Christmas” for all of us to join in. You go ahead.
Eva-Maria Kramer goes full symphonic hymnal with “Hey, It’s Christmas.” Klunk.
Lift those voices! “Hey Hey It’s Christmas Day‘” is watered-down Pacfica-beat for the (churched-up) family as posted by Melissa Lesealii. Itchy, i mean catchy.
Sing along with Stephen Weeks, or not. The polka-tastic “[Hey Ho] Tell Me What You Want for Christmas” requires participation to be family fun. Consider me a conscientious objectifier.
“(Hey Everyone) It’s Christmas Time Again” is that rock song that sounds suspiciously like that other rock song. But Chris James is fully earnest and energetic, so–what’s next?
Leaning into Brit-pop, Brett Vargo’s “Hey Christmas!” comes in loud and proud (DON’T BE LATE!!). You can shout if you want to– i’m good.
“Hey Christmas” is Lucas Hoge’s countryfied pop ballad that expects the crowd to wave lit phones. Couple hallelujahs for good measure. But my cell’s dead. So….
O.K. You want the goose to loosen your chair-sittin’ muscles? Here come The Mavericks with some blues rock (watch out, Jerry Lee Lewis) to push and pull y’all in every which way: “Hey! Merry Christmas!” (’till the cows come home).
Did someone lay the blame on the return of Xmas blues at the door of the bank? Is it debt, that’s worryin’ ya, Johnny?
“Broke Again This Christmas” is Mike Rob howling offkey about trying to keep up with your wishlist, baby. Painful ballad. Then bad rap.
Country pop from Retrotech (is that a metronome?) worries the season with “Broke Again This Christmas.” Is there a light at the end of the shelter?
More to the point, punk whinging from The Mansfields allow they’re “Broke on Christmas Again.” Didn’t expect much other.
Jordan McAlinden winds down the Britguilt with a lighter pop number “‘Tis the Season to be Broke Again.” Don’t gamble it away, Da!
Mobius VanChocStraw lays down legit blues with “Broke Again for Christmas.” He’s outta money, honey (yours as well). Same ol’ story.
The party’s moved on, the house has emptied–what’s that echoing sound?
Well, Santa is feeling the sudden changes. With hard rock blues, Big Johnson and The Thrusters troll the ancient Yuletide carol with “Day After Christmas.” He’s lonely now.
Soothing crooning from Walt Hoagland: “It was the Night After Christmas.” But it’s without you. So it actually sucks.
Measured blues from Steve and Jacky Cox, “The Week After Christmas” regrets the whole damn year. Glad that it’s over. Poor me. (Good song.)
Now that the subject’s broached, let’s linger on that hammering headache you woke up with after Xmas celebrations.
Twangy country from Ron Bell drawls out a portrait of family failings in “The Day After Christmas.” Lots of broken, missing, hurting with a lively backbeat.
Rangy grunge from The Held retches out unfortunate life choices in “Thank God (Christmas is Over).” And, for good measure, BLUE ALERT.
Kent Goodson and Michael Panasuk look up from the mess of “The Day After Christmas Blues” and swear off bad habits, like conspicuous consumption in all its forms. Piano lounge blues.
Authentic music arrives in the form of “The Day After Christmas Blues,” country-funnin’ betwixt sharp guitar licks from JS Lawrence. This is more hangover regret iced with feeble promises.