Category: country sort of

“Santa’s Out on My Lawn” is not a drunk-shaming diatribe. In fact Michael Ballantyne has some half-serious rockabilly about the lawn ornament he installed. At 5:00 he gets the juice; I flip the switch and he cuts loose. Now everyone will want one.

ZuCo sets a pretty Yuletide home scene: Toss a log into the fire, The house is getting cold, It’s five o’clock the sun is going down… “Waiting for Christmas” is a soothing light pop lullaby.

Current Swell, in the other home, does not want to spend “Christmas Alone.” Five o’clock, no more than, start in an hour, We’re are all locked inside By the tension growing Along with the beast. Uh oh. Not gonna get merry that way despite the gentle folk pop.

Dreamy lite pop from Beane worries, Mid December gets dark around 5; I hate being alone without the light. “Alone Another Holiday” leans into the cold wintry regrets of the romantically insecure. You might need a hug after this one.

Step Savage also notices It’s only 5 O’clock, already pitch dark, but his rap “Snowy Daze” chins up and faces the frozen world (with pork and sauerkraut, and light arms). No moping!

In the middle of the seasonally affected depressed is Luke Markinson, who brazenly interrupts “All I Want for Xmas” with a BLUE ALERT rap about hating the song, though–It’s cold outside, Dark at a quarter of five; Don’t worry bout me I’ll be fine. Not sure in am so much now.

Must be 5 o’clock somewhere slurs Mark Erelli needing excuses to deal with “Not Quite Christmas” without you here. Piano lounge pop, of course.

Needing more, Keith Varney belts out Just Get Me to Drunk in his hanging-by-a-thread country pop “Christmas Spirits.” It may be morning at home, But in the town of Bethlehem It’s five o’clock in the manger… is all the excuse he needs. Salut!

Finally upbeat are the homeless celebrating “Christmas in Paradise” under the Cow Key Bridge. They look forward to Christmas dinner at 5 o’clock over at the Church of Life. Mary Gauthier keeps it quiet despite the steel drum and hollering y’alls.

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.

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.

The day before the holiday a person could use some mood-changing substances….

Psychedelic piano improvisation adds to the cacophony of the wasted “Christmas Eve/Christmas Day.” Riding through the snow Christmas Day, Chevy sitting on 24’s candy paint, Your whore want to go but it’s out my way–Tell her stay! I ain’t got no time to waste. Hott$cott got some ‘nog to flog, dawg.

Sometimes takes whiskey Sometimes takes more Always on December 24, laments Seth Adam in his slow rocker “December 24.”

Sex is the drug for Lardi B (feat. Projext) in the ‘romantic’ rap “Holidays.” Better be going by the 24th to get there! Sweet na nana nas.

More lust from Siopaolo (feat. Kelsey Kuantans): It’s the 24th of December, Remember last year when we promised we’ll meet Right before Christmas day–I want nothing but ice this year, We’re jumping into bed after 12 AM. “Hot Cocoa” seems to be code for this finger-popping R+B seducer.

Trying to get something going, poet Adam Marsland alt-grunges: Not to kill a metaphor But it’s “December 24th.” Yet, metaphors snow us in.

Despite falling asleep on the sofa bed on the 24th Autyn recalls the next morning “I Met an Angel (On Christmas Day).” Rock, i guess. (Céline Dion covers this–heavy on the sax–believe it or don’t.)

Sons of Daughters leans into the honkytonk with a brawling expose of a disturbance report of some red-suited guy at the local drinkery in “Moonshine and Mistletoe.” Line dance like you’re drunk!

Seventy degrees may not seem like winter for some y’all. But it’s not hot.

Byronnnn sings And you know we in the south It might be seventy in the winter with cool R+B slickness in “Coolness Christmas.” Family traditions include devotion to God, Countdown on ABC Family, and oatmeal pies. Yes, ma’am.

It might be too early It’s like 70 degrees; But after waiting all year It’s right on time for me introduces “Christmas with You” by John Waller (feat. the Waller family), a swinging pop ensemble of musical fun. Family’s the thing, guys.

Family is the basis for love, and tragedy though. Matthew West’s tale is a country weeper ’bout the boy with the diagnosis in summer. Middle of September still seventy degrees Daddy climbs up in the attic Brings down candles hangs the lights on all the trees. “One Last Christmas” is the horror we’ve heard before, but it still gets ya. Dunnit? (Based on a true… yeah, okay.)

Some day I know it’s coming When all of us won’t be Together there for Christmas (I hate to face it but we won’t always be together for Christmas), You know Daddy’s seventy-three (it seems hard to believe but your daddy will turn seventy-three) is the tip of the maudlin in The Statler Brothers’ “Something You Can’t Buy“–for Christmas that is! Country smarm to beat all.

Deep South country also gets hot in the winter. “White Christmas” is what Amber DeLaCruz doesn’t have. 87 degrees driving ATVs through the pine trees is more like it.

Pickup Sticks is sad, western rocking “I Wish It Was Christmas” from the bowels of summer. That electric bill just went up to two-hundred seventy-eight, just the amount returning gifts would bring. Or, wait, maybe the cold of December wouldn’t ramp up the AC usage. Regardless, i too wish it so–and dig their twangy tirade.

A little soul, a little soft rock, a lot of country pop, “366 Days (Next Christmas)” starts us on the eve of this year but promises love through every holiday until that day of next year. Bob Mader croons for the lonely.

Lori Triplett is blue in “Coming Home Alone.” Around Christmas time Saturday morning, little half past 5:00, she doesn’t feel like packing up and seeing the family. Why? In misty folk-country vocals she hints at having promised to come home WITH someone. But since the accompaniment ain’t in the cards…. Pretty–and pretty sad.