Year-round Yuletide oddities
Next Door has a haunting back beat with off mic narration called “Christmas Day, 1988.” Bit of an eavesdrop on some memories….
In 1988 it was a “Wrestlemania Christmas” for The Yule Logs. A big chair-smashing, rope-rebounding deal. Rock, yeah.
“Christmas Card 1988” by Cory Fay is a Sufjan-Stevens-ish exploration into time and space, which is good. The world needs more wiggy guitar walks.
Dazed and confused electronic reverb from Ryan McReynolds masks a tale of blood and rage. “Christmas Day 1989,” what is left to say?
Hard garage regret from Please Exist drops memories from “Christmas 1989” like hot turds. Where has the childish excitement gone? The pain of growing up.
“Paradise (Christmas, 1989)” from Andrew Samples has some electronic percussion reminiscent of the year, but the whole child’s-toys-making-me-who-I am-while-I’m-dying routine is so overdone.
“Christmas 1989” from Andrew Wosylyk sounds like the time it embodies. Pop piffle about wanting and getting and nothing in particular. Like 1989.
KillaTooma has visions of grandeur when he recounts his Carri-beat rap delivery to the world on Christmas Day, 1990 (intro-ed by a mother figure) in “The Arrival.” He come to prophecy like in Jerusalem…. He’s just messiah-ing with you.
I’m leaving you today “Christmas Morning 1991” gushes Guts Crew Records with ukulele abandon in an attempt to garage band the breakup. Works for me.
Zach Sherwin jew-raps “Pop Music” judging his fatherless musical upbringing and exposure (BLUE ALERT excerpt from Naughty by Nature–which was a Hanukkah 1991 gift). It culminates in a rap battle much later. Regular Disney underdawg that boy.
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.
Well, technically, “Home Alone” (the movie) is about Christmas. And Heatmaps has a Rockin tribute that mentions how the Sticky Bandits were locked up til February 1993. But as fans will recall, they bust out in time for the 1992 sequel. Still, poppin’ fresh!
Even more epic, “Sandy Fishnets” is the tale of foster abuse with an haunting nautical motif. Evelyn Evelyn ends the tragedy on the Christmas of 1993 with her silent disappearance. Horrifying French bistro music.
Lily Montfré bums out on a memory fragment in “Christmas in July.” This late-night jazz bar piano dreamscape wants to remember, but fears the past. Oo-ee-oo.
Up Up Down Down Left Right Left Right A B Start asks if you remember “Christmas Eve 1993.” Something weird happened, but i guess if you don’t remember… forget it. Altrock and noisy about it.
The Murrays don’t candy coat “Merry Christmas 1993.” Pop altrock that starts with old macaroni on the tree, but ends with hanging around as a supreme act of love. Wotta Romeo.
Christmas Eve 1994, begins Matt Roach, reminiscing the good ol’ times with his baby. Those times are over in his “December Chill” an indie sentimental whiner. (He’s waitin’ by the phone for you.)
Take me back to 1994 again, craves Uncle Luc in “Christmas 1994.” Many childhood gifts merge together in his watercolor memories, but he misses those familiy bits. Rocking folk with plenty o’ Hawaiian to go around.
“Indie Christmas 1994” is a coming of age rock vamp from Gateway to Thousen. Cute backup, but not the best love advice i’ve heard.
Curious electronic experimental from watches | warnings, “Christmas Eve 1994” seems to be weather reporting under electric rhythms. The title is a mantra you’re welcome to adopt.
Nostalgia for ’94 (and later)?! Throw iPhones on the floor Pretend it’s 1994 wail Vista Blue in “A ’90s Kind of Christmas” spewing cultural landmarks willy nilly (My So Called Life, Green Day, Reebok Puffs) amidst the folk banging.
I Don’t Know Margo resists the War on Christmas with the rocking “When I Say Merry Christmas,” claiming no harm/no foul even if this were 1994 with George Costanza. That may be a Seinfeld Festivus reference, but such an alternative holiday was introduced a la TV in 1997, so yada yada yada.
Fantastic tango family dirty laundry from nerd diva Helen Arney, “Christmas 1994” was the year the VCR busted and the family fight over what channel to watch was waged. Killer. (Watch out for poetic license memory post script.) Brava!
No real significance to the year notation, Jeff Kelly wishes love to Jane (and Tess) on “Christmas 1995.” Between the lines, i figger. Pretty altrock full of altemotion.
Some of these old memories shape us into who we become.
“New Friends” is Kidboy’s charming punk reminiscence about way back when he BLUE ALERT was ganged up on due to his gifts. Oi! Oi’m widdem!
These year references are stretching back pretty far… time to drown in treacly nostalgia!
Ye-haw! Modern pop country from Michael Ray. One Day All You’re Gonna Have is a “Picture“! It’s just that back then it was a printed photograph (KODAK is product placed in the first line), not no digital image. Even with people still dying today, memories are snaps. Don’t forget ’em.