Category: pop music

Not Shit

What aren’t you getting for Christmas, you miserable one? You aren’t getting shit. That sounds reasonable at first, until you real the emphatic purposes of the ain’t.

Way back when, we visited Red Peters mocking an old Walter Brennan masterpiece with “You Ain’t Getting Shit for Christmas.” It’s real purdy.

Bob Wire and Chip Whitson get more funky rock with their “You Ain’t Gettin’ Shit for Christmas.” It’s telling.

Stevie B. calls from ‘cross the Pond to alert the slackers “Well, You Won’t Get Jack Shit.” BLUE ALERT for a proper comeuppance.

Underage rap from Daddy Hustle BLUE ALERT whispers out “U Ain’t Getting Shit for Christmas.” Not sure he means it.

White girl R+B lounge rap from Emily Miller testifies “You Ain’t Gettin’ Shit (For Christmas).” Buy it yourself, loser.

Uncle Daddy & The Skeeters get folksy pop with “Santa Ain’t Bringing You Shit.” Some layers of judgment here. You can tell because of the harsh percussion.

Let’s cut the shit. Heywood Banks is a comic genius and he can sing about how you’re not getting shit without saying the naughty word and being naughty himself. “You Ain’t Getting Diddly Squat” is the novelty we didn’t know we wanted. And–Big Finish!

Baby It’s Coal: ore not

We’re well out of coal for Christmas ideas for novelty songs, so let’s say NO to coal.

Les Barons slow bluesrocks ‘a Krampus song’ about how there’ll be “No Coal in My Stocking Tonight.” This psychological investigation into what you think of him is a bit scary.

Chandra Knudsen gets emo maudlin about getting YOU “Instead of Coal.” She doesn’t seem to believe in Xmas, but she ranges her pop all over the folk chords diva-style.

Baby It’s Coal: the opera

A ’90s gang of Philly musicians joined warped minds to skewer Christmas music. They took a while to rise above door-to-door cassette sales, but i highly recommend you lay your hands on whatever Hot Buttered Elves released, regardless of roster.

“Coal” is their 11 minute opus (apparently in several parts) about the ins and outs of striking black rock for the holidays. At times instrumental (haunted symphonic) at others experimental club (haunting beat poetry). Grab a cup o’ joe and settle back for this one. It’ll take you places you never dreamt. See you on the other side.

Baby It’s Coal: missing you

You’re gone, you even left a note, so my Christmas is black and flakes off at the brittle parts.

Kyle Andrews (as one of The Bands Under the Radar) pop wails “I Don’t Want a Lump of Coal.” He does want your love. But he’s got to sing, doesn’t he?

Mumbling grief, gargling musicality, Andor wishes everything will be all right with the garage weirdness of “Coal for Christmas.” Nothing makes sense without you.

Dfonte borrows from ’90s UK melodic-harmonic jittery pop for the breathy “Coal for Christmas.” Seems they want to ‘keep the fire burning in your heart,’ despite you having left a year before. Love the emo beat.

Baby It’s Coal: doubling down

Some kids go beyond the piss and moan about getting coal for Christmas, they take a stand.

I don’t blame ’em. Jay Richwine (and friend) dig deep to worry if there’ll be enough “Coal for Christmas.” This kid-friendly pop folk leans in to how much fun it is to dirty the stockings with anthracite.

The Truth Is… may be a pop band or a delivery platform, but they give us a bouncy scheme to get even with Santa “Letters to Santa” (perhaps don’t tip the present-er to your ‘Home Alone’ gimmickry). But, have fun.

Baby It’s Coal: no more Mr. Santa

Why wail about the coal for Christmas when you can character assassinate the red delivery system itself?

Rolling into a massive BLUE ALERT after almost a minute of comic buildup, The Misfit Toys hollers about who put “Coal in Your Stockings“! This is rollicking mod rock illustrated with a video sporting messy mascara and a Santa sniper. Whoa.

HeatleyBros allow for some parody fun with “Santa Loves Coal.” This pop-rap mishmash-up gives us the POV of the big stinker who didn’t have to be so vengeful on the wee ones.

Baby It’s Coal: origins

One of the oddest traditions of Christmas is how bad children still get a little sumpin in the form of a lump of coal.

Let’s not rehash the various histories that various nations claim to originate this Santa shenanigan. Let’s dwell in the hearth that laments and lauds this practice until we finally get into the ore of the mine.

Although previously hailed as a novelty masterpiece, The Killers (w/Jimmy Kimmel) open our journey from the POV of “Joel the Lump of Coal,” allowing us to see the peripeteia the innocent may project over the mean machine of Christmas to a happy ending. Love that alt-pop.

Yee Haw-liday: cowboy walks into a bar s ranch….

Let’s break early for the funny. I mean, cowboys and Christmas. Laff riot, eh wot?

Liam and Mason (milph, perhaps) showcase an hilarious “Cowboy Christmas” full of Freudian associations and ad libs. I suspect basement such slackers as these appear to be stole it. But it’s still novel. And they do great post-modern shtick.

Brad Paisley tries the gentle approach to intolerance with “Kung Pao Buckeroo Holiday.” In the guise of cowboys (true Americans), Brad and friends curmudgeon about how sensitive some folks are about what you can sing. I agree, joke with ’em if that can’t fuckin’ take it. But no war, please.

The Funny Music Project (FuMP for insiders) play amateurishly fast and loose with the Lone Star state in “Christmas Time in Texas.” That’s tongue in cheek, not chaw.

Yee Haw-liday: Mr. Rocky Mountain

John Denver popularized the soft rock of hard country living way back when. His “Christmas for Cowboys” (words and music by Steve Weisberg (1975)) is a standard of Christmas songs for cowboys. Most covers imitate best as they can. (JD’s one of those you can’t quite improve on.) (Sorry, Jars of Clay, just leave the original alone.) (Unless you’re willing to interpret.)

Smearing on some honky tonk, Jimmy Rankin ups the party factor.

Crowding the quiet with strings and yodeling, Wylie Gustafson refits the CW genre into something less pop.

A mournful version with washed out vocals from Wasted Rock Rangers barely keeps it together.

Most odd, Drunken Ramblings fingers some of notes but misses the vocal synch in some alt-folk guitar warm-up. It’s just the right amount of off-putting.