Category: garage

Milo Murphy’s Law (the cartoon series) takes a moment out of exploding boilers, mischief and mayhem to sing “The Toboggan of Love” for a young couple. Sweetly short pop.

More EDM from MAU, industrializing the pop of their “Toboggan.” Bumpy ride.

Club grunge from Jett Brando may be about a “Toboggan,” or it may not. I dig the whistling and call it good.

“Midnight Sled Ride” seems like a bad idea, and Yosh & Yimmy have less planning than impetus–but this alt rock runner builds to an exciting musical moment or two.

Terribly upbeat but not super annoying, Seth Bunting pops country to celebrate “Holiday Spirit.” Pretty, tinkly, sleddy.

“Get Here” by Johan Norberg and Nils Landgren is just romantic jazz about how to rendezvous, including sledding into my arms. Lounge-tastic.

The Dead Milkmen spin a yarn of adventure in “Somewhere Over Antarctica.” Some may live, some may sled. They’ll all be cold, however, in this garage epic.

You got to ask the right question! Fayetteville Ska Alliance samples the notable days on the calendar, then wonders “Why Can’t Every Holiday Just Be Christmas?” You know, there’s cocoa–and sledding!

Seahoneys rehearse their New Age kidsong about slipping down the snow into the ocean and following whales in “Sled In.” Trippy.

Picking and grinning, Bill Klemm lets us in on “The Best Sledding Song.” Loves me some gentle bluegrass, but the excitement of downhillin’ may not be in verisimilitude here.

Fine garage from Tuktu recounts the time they got saved by a mysterious stranger on the ice. “Sled Song” is moving.

Frozen Factory rocks the drum bangly, with their mystical “Christmas Crazy.” In this nail-biter, he wants to get home in time, but the airways are clogged. Will that old feller with the white hair and glasses help? These heaven seas will take me To yuletide; I surf beyond the skies…

The Slotcars mix in some punk garage to remind us of the big musical world with “Surfin’ for Christmas.” Pretty insistent for under a minute and a half.

ALBUM ALERT Surf Party, USA was a joke band that made good–well, at the college radio level. But their 2018 beginnings have resulted in THREE holiday albums (one’s for Thanksgiving, another’s for Halloween). Let’s get wet with Surf Party, Yule S.A.

Not every cut is Christmas AND surf related, so let’s start with “Santa Claus Sunk My Surfboard.” Garage anger for a half a minute.

Then “I Hate Christmas” only mentions the surf culture. Hand clapping fun folk.

“Twelve Days of Surfmas” is funnier than it should be. Echoic parody.

“Berg is Getting Coal in His Stocking Because He Didn’t Catch a Wave” is experimental electronica of the oddest type.

They slow the vibe wa-a-ay down with the fossilized folk of “Summer Santa.” Claus’s hittin’ the waves, but the kids call him by the wrong name.

Then along comes the garage punk to ask “What Does Surfing Have to Do with Christmas?” You may be left wondering. [Hint: it’s Everything, la la la.]

TWxWKS (‘two weeks’ i guess) get all meta singing about their rapping in “14 Days of Christmas.” They list what they want and BLUE ALERT tease each other, but they do admit December 14th is not Christmas day–Bazinga! It’s rude AND gay.

I get to be quarantined–it’s at my expense!–fourteen days… Ya gettin’ the picture? COVID-19 brings us Indiego North!’s accented pop “Flying to You at Christmas.” Hope you’re not expecting an air fryer on top of all that.

I guess the old saying goes: if you love Christmas so much why don’t you “Marry Christmas“? Salem Ilese cheesy pops the question/answer delightedly: Fourteen carats for the reindeer, Eighteen carats on my finger, Pumpkin pie for every dinner–Oh, wouldn’t it be nice?

Ray Stevens gives us yet another jelly-rolling country stomper “I Won’t be Home for Christmas.” The extended family [fourteen kids from 7 marriages… and I’m just talking’ ’bout my sister Rose] does drive him to song. Revival jump!

Even more country is when “Christmas is Homemade.” The Drop Shadows bemoan the ridiculousity of the season (the bird cooks down from 14 to just 4 pounds) with a post-modern garage effervescence that infects everywhere. Love it, especially the off-key trumpet solo.

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.

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.

AK-47s figure into the holiday rap rebellions of ice WRLD’s “Christmas List” and King Aiden’s “Hood Christmas.” Just a BLUE ALERT minute, ‘mo getchu some peace on earth, fellas.

Ben Folds Five hurts his hands smashing out grade-A boogie boogie for “One Angry Dwarf and 200 Solemn Faces,” barely a holiday number in that it mentions his 47 inch height got him bullied and picked on, despite Mom’s promise of an excellent Christmas gift. (And that he’d grow up famous.) Brilliant craziness!

If Jesus were alive today… He’d have the history of the world
Tattooed across his ass, in 47 languages. So sez “Jesus Revisited” by Dead Hot Workshop. This garage postulation puts Mr. C in the ‘burbs, or jail–but w/o job. Heavy… What would Jesus draw?

The Gentlemen of 328 seem to be address specific in “Christmas at 328,” a grunge exploration of holiday determination. Do as they say, not as they sound.