The Paulette Sisters rev up their recording of “Santa Got Stuck in the Chimney” until i can’t tell if they’re chipmunks or if they’ve been choked recently. At least there’s a happy ending to the pop music here.
“Stuck in the Chimney” by The Coyotes tries the ragtime kidsong approach. It’s silly, punctuated with a bunch of jumpin’ jimminies. But it’s catchy.
“Santa isn’t Here” doo wop The Crystalairs, bc he’s stuck. Move the furniture, Ma, it’s dancin’ time!
The party can’t start without “Fat Santa.” Wealthy Elves take us ’round the block with some rap/rock mashup to get us there.
“Get Some Santa Claus” is little story of a badass from Okra Pickles. Supremely dig the opening and would make it my ringtone if i could figure that out. BLUE ALERT!
“Badass Santa” is busy indie from softbomb (Кузанкин Роман). Wait, is he Russian?
Lee Harris impersonates a tinhorn big band for a ’50s western for kiddos in “Pistol Packin’ Santa Claus.” How have i not included this previously? Great stuff.
Bah & The Humbugs determine who’s the “Boss of Christmas” with pop panache. Bravo!
“Dig That Crazy Santa Claus” is the gone doo wop Pete the Elf exposed me to decades ago. Oscar McLollie & The Honeyjumpers are kicky, oogley, AND real George. Check it.
Three? Is it early or late?! United Vibe got some swing waiting up: Where is he, man? It’s nearly quarter to three! He’s hoping to get a girl, the perfect girl, for Christmas. And she’ll be his “Mrs. Claus.” Go, cat.
Friskar Viljor has the dreads: We woke up one day and I said stay away; It was Christmas to be, we had cried until three yesterday… “Oh No” is a rocking polka of a horrorshow. I’m going to recommend it.
Kill Hannah hits the garage running with “New Heart for Christmas.” This breakup rocker begins so lonely: Navy pier at Christmas you can go at 3am–There will be no one. Icy good.
Also extra early and urbanely depressed, DubleAADank raps boyishly, amateurishly about “Christmas in Hampton.” Colorful, descriptive, though: Want to go J’s but their closed past three, But that’s just Christmas in Hampton for me.
Amusing SUBurban rap from Danny Rick Rick laments: Waking up on Christmas morn I got a feeling I was bad cause my body′s so sore; This usually means I slept walked till 3. “I Know You Want My Snickerdoodle” is casually naughty, but addresses no real social issues. Fine by me. Happy merry.
Girly mushiness from Bridget O’Shannessy dreams: You wake me up with a kiss at quarter past three, You taste like nutmeg and cinnamon brandy. “Christmas Night” is country/pop romanticism overdone sweetly.
Even happier, and country-er, is Tammy Wynette’s “One Happy Christmas.” I heard the doorbell ringing as the clock was striking three, I thought can that be Santa Claus since this is Christmas Eve… but it was that wandering dad returned! All’s forgiven!
It starts and ends 3 O’clock on Christmas morning for Lovers Turn to Monsters in “Circles,” an alt-pop tale of loss both succinct and sad. What it lacks in details it doesn’t make up.
Jeff Speight gets a bit melancholy In the nigh; It’s quarter past three, The snow has stopped falling… and like that Christmas is over. Still, he’s going to light pop wish “Merry Christmas to You.”
All detailed, “Next Christmas Eve” is pop unplugged from CHG Music. The hopeful sentiment is mired in lonely lowness: The kitchen sink, feels so small Here at a Quarter to Three, From the piled-up dishes or a far-away dream. Mixed.
Well, it guess Christ was born “Past Three A Clock” according to an old hymn, handled Celtic-ly by The Chieftans (with The Renaissance Singers and Ronnie Lee). Get up! And–i dunno–dance!
Flo and Joan agree with that timeline in their profane “Christmas (Live).” But their samplings of hymns and sing-along lounge schtick works. Bam a lama lama bam.
Chef and Kitz present gospel harmony with lyrics like: ’Twas Christmas Eve three o’clock in the morning When the little elf gave me this warning: He said don’t open your Christmas stocking Otherwise you’ll be a dead man walking. “The Little Elf” gets nothing but crazy after that. Can i say wow? Playing with fire.
Doo Wop’s back! I remember a Christmas long ago, Christmas Eve taking sleigh rides out in the snow; Later on that night, ’bout a quarter to three Seems I asked you to marry me. And The Echelons vocals go nuts! “Christmas Long Ago” is what it’s all about. God bless.
Christmas wants you to celebrate love. But… if the one that you want isn’t amenable/available Christmas feels like a slap in the stocking.
No Commercial Potential (NCP) wants you present for his “Christmas Presence.” Over four dozen Christmas seasons… or is it a thousand Christmas mornings… he’s been without you. Good memory. Symphonic ballad rock.
It’s only been half a decade for Henry Mansfield who only wants to talk on that “Call on Christmas Eve.” Tangling imagery and symbols this piano concerto of a pop love ballad wants to meet at the dock for a thousand skipping rocks. Seems sincere. Desperate, but up front about it.
“A Thousand Deaths at Christmas” is what it feels like for Møunt Pleasant and Løwlands to miss you. Experimental alt-pop.
“1000 Seasons” is a sprightly rock anthem about long distance missing you from The Rentals. The question becomes: do the words here help? Well, i never meta self-referencing song i didn’t like.
Just only solely “Christmas Alone” by Exxon · Orla Hylleberg Eriksen expresses a pathetic dinner for one, solo dancing, and lighting a thousand candles (one by one) to metal-tinged rock-mania. Call a support group!
Seems like she’s been gone a thousand years croon The Moonglows in “Just a Lonely Christmas.” Slow dance. Then collapse. He‘s been gone a thousand years drawl The Supremes in their later cover, adding more musicality (well, strings) and pain.
The Color Bars self identify as a Brooklyn-based indie pop band with big, melodic hooks, a wry sense of humor, and vaguely psychedelic tendencies. Be the judge listening to the experimental doowop of “Merry Christmas It’s Your Birthday,” the ballad of an agnostic Xmas-hater who has found new reason to rejoice.
The holidays leave us more susceptible to criminal mischief than any other time of the year. You’re not home: breaking and entering. Your car is in the far corner of the mall parking lot: theft. Heightened emotions: assault. Resultant overdrinking: battery. Family: murder. (Okay, New Year’s Eve is hella worse.)
This is gonna get bleak.
C.G.B. raps the sorry story of sadistic elf managers, Krampus, and dope/gun-running in “Criminal Christmas.” BLUE ALERT to be sure.
Odd experimental mellifluousness, “Christmas Crime” by Philippe Tasquin (feat. Pierre Vervloesem, Didier Fontaine) mashes up coffeehouse lyricism with burlesque house ’70s symphonic rock to suggest an unreality of lawless holiday. (WTF?)
Tuxedo Bandido lightens the mayhem with organized crime, intimidation, and a little drug dealing in “It’s Christmas Crime.” Here it’s Santa on the lam with pop doo wop (not the lamb of God with manger poo).
Take a sleeping draught and celebrate having the bed all to yourself, woman! What’s with all the moaning!? Another round of (party-style this time) weepie tunes about Missus Claus missing the Mister.
“The Sad Saga of Mrs. Claus”
gets the gospel-sized R+B treatment from E. Faye Butler. This
roof-raiser got me apologizing for things i never did to the little
woman, but hang in there for that final ‘SCREW YOU!’
The Bandana Splits girl doowop “It’s a Lonely Night for Mrs. Claus.” There there, madam, rama lama ding dong.
Not enough songs portray the happy ever after Mr. and Mrs. Claus share.
The classic here is the country old school twanger from George Jones and Tammy Wynette (we’ve played it before) “Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus.” Here the old couple is held up as a gold standard for happy marriage. (No actual Santa wives are harmed in this song.) [Robin Vosbury & Linnea Fayard Allen add a powerful new guitar riff to this anthem.] [Shaun Loughrey & Carrie Benn make it more backbeaten rock’n’roll.]
Three Day Threshold (feat. Lyle Brewer) drop us a love letter “To Mrs. Claus from Santa.” Hard blue grass breakdown, but sweet as honey.
Bee bop rock delight from Guy Sherman details the why wherefore and how of that woman in “She’s Mrs. Claus.” The possible names are rostered as well. (Layla?) True love.
Diggin’ the shoobop soft rock of Del Zorros with “Mrs. Santa Claus.” Sounds like a party when the lights go off. Romantically so, don’t worry.
The basic refrain for seasonal severance gets its due serially from the music-makers over and over. Let’s admit that pain creates great song. But sometimes, wallowing in the dumps it seems like a better song ‘cuz IT’S ALL ABOUT MY PAIN RIGHT NOW.
Prince gets a bit more poetic with “Another Lonely Christmas,” but this dream-fueled rampage of experimental rock doesn’t touchdown into our reality but twice. Can i get a huh?
Darlene Love wails girl doo wop with a killer sax for “All Alone on Christmas.” This is loneliness with a raw edge.
Kill the Band has played “Anal for Christmas” for us before. Butt it’s got a twist in the end.
George Washington Diarrhea wrassles doowop for “I Hope That I Get Anal for Christmas.” Earthy, full of innuendo (and begging), and the harmonica is a nice touch.
