All around the world… all across the seven seas… “Thanks for Christmas” pops up XTC. It’s catchy. The strings help.
Lighter, but just as catchy of pop, sails in The Crowd at Dexter’s Theater with “Thicken Thinner.” So the tale tells: Traveling the seven seas, It’s hell out there I can really tell you; But I’m gonna make it home for Christmas–I gotta decorate a tree. I’m getting seasick!
The other reason to measure such an endless expense? jardinière‘d sail seven seas, Walk pole to pole, crawl on my knees–If it would only bring you home. “Christmas Grieve” is a driving folk ode to remember.
Bringing the funk (and the Grinch) Snoop Dogg and October London and Cocoa Sarai’s “Funky Christmas” don’t want no Christmas... Heaven knows I did seven shows; No Santa Claus no ho-ho-ho’s. It’s a downer you can dance to.
Lohmann and Ballinger send up the ’70s with “Santa Claus is Coming to Our Disco.” Not only that, but Hanukkah and Kwanzaa Is coming to our disco, Seven candles and Muhini. The reindeer are in drag and Baby Jesus is feeling the beat. Everybody get down tonight.
Blues Traveler is feeling the blues ’bout the season, but with uplifting and reverential folk rock (like old Cat Stevens), My God in heaven now I feel like I’m seven! “Christmas” is a righteous journey, and you might end up somewhere you didn’t expect to be if you tag along.
Bethany Joy, also, wants to play in it all like a seven year old. But the cliches of easy listening haunt her “Snow.” Its jazzy undertones don’t save it.
Aware of cliches, Josh Worster wants the “Right Christmas,” even if the snow reaches seven feet deep. I just need you and I comes off more believable somehow, once the literary air has been cleared.
Dragonette is experiencing the time of the year: candy cane, snow is almost seven inches deep… but “Merry Xmas (Says Your Text Message)” on the 27th of December. Her reply is BLUE ALERT appropriate to your untimeliness. Swinging pop.
BVJ The Project doesn’t want much “For Christmas“–but a 40 inch wig and 7 inch heels are on there. Sassy rap.
Thiqq Miqq claims Santa is 3 feet tall, but wears 7 inch heels in the amateur rap(scream) “We Wish You a Merry Thiqqmass.” Skippable.
Not as dismissible, All Students can bad-rap, too. But for Christmas all they want is a toaster to drop in the bath, or a 7 foot tree to drop a noose from. Ever since Trudy left (and my car failed inspection) they’ve decided “New Year No Me.”
Laura Nyro may have “Christmas in My Soul,” but All God’s sons have gone to trial, including the Black Panthers, the Chicago 7, and the Homeless Indian on Manhattan Isle. Siren sharp folk.
David DiMuzio (feat. Sam Mangubat) had “My Best Christmas Eve,” But it’s January 7th, and it looks like you’ve vanished. So it’s time for a weepy pop ballad of missed connections.
Bozo is all about the high. “A Bozo Twistmas” asks all the questions stoners ask, like Why does my car smell like a hobo? Is Jeffrey going to come near me? What about that guy on Seventh Avenue? Unplugged uncertain rock.
Gervarus “G” Giles is trying to help when he explains he’ll pick you up on the second bring you back on the seventh. But with all the “Cider & Hennessey” for the holidays i’m not sure this rap promise is binding.
Andrea Rodriguez has got you on her “Naughty List.” Wake up, baby, she chides, Do you wanna go round seven? Whoa. That’s pretty naughty. Inuendo express!
After Halloween “Suddenly it’s Christmas” Seven weeks before the day. Loudon Wainwright III morosely serenades with uke folk about the longest holiday. Ha!
American Mammoth Jackstock wishes “Merry Christmas Lonelies” with calm, unplugged rock and acid-washed psychedelic lyrics: on a thursday, seven months, now: you exploded; didn’t know how. Search me.
Shocked to be alone on Christmas Eve, Getaway Car rocks out Seven months ago We were all right, I believed it. But this is an “All Time Low.” Stop believin’.
Trying to get back into the season, Rakz Radiant reveals It’s been 7 years since I got into this scene. But the rap “Get Sleighed” is too cool to ever get jolly.
Brutalligators has spent almost seven holidays Eleven thousand miles away from you–on the other side of the equator! So then “Christmas in July” for him would be the right kind of weather for you. Gentle rock serenading sells it.
Regrets galore [I miss everyone i’ve ever met but a few of you more sharply] from Ember Knight about a certain someone taken for granted. There was trouble And i didn’t snitch for 7 years and then it was too late. But in her “Christmas Song” she still asks if you’ll remember her on the holidays. Grand piano pop.
Ella Ion plays that game in reverse, calling out someone in her driving pop “Christmas” song–You’ve wasted seven years now. But she wants you know she’ll be there for you.
Every Christmas morning for the last seven years Queen Elizabitch III has been eyeballing the mantle and suffering “Stocking Envy” over her sister’s loot. BLUE ALERT, but it’s sibling rivalry so it’s understandable. Catty pop.
Overspending and spending 7 shitty hours on a bus to my hometown, Girlfriend Material whines altrock about “Xmas Specials.” All this joy sucks. I mean, is that all there is?
Chris McParland has only “Seven Days to Christmas.” Two problems for this ukulele pop serenade: the wife’s list is interminable, and he’s too drunk to shop. Maybe he’ll take her to the pub and buy her drinks….
Happy Accident has got the existential blues, but in the garage pop of “The Days” we take it back to When Christmas evening it took 7 days. Those were the days.
The Chosen Girls (feat. Madisynn) enjoy “Spending Christmas With My Baby” because with Only seven days to Christmas My baby he with me, Spending quality time treating me like a queen. Then there’s six, then five, four, etc. And he’s still a treat. Hypnotic soul.
When you’re WITHOUT that baby, however, you count differently: It’s only seven days ’til Christmas, Six more ’til New Year’s Day; It’s not a good time to feel this way. Hurts sings “All I Want for Christmas is New Year’s Day” with boy band slickness.
“In Time for Christmas” measures the 7 days since he saw you. But Find Me continues the boy band flavor for a second helping of cheesy pop.
More happy slave music from Harry Connick Jr. See “The Happy Elf” says, Seven days a week, Ev’ry week of the month, And ev’ry month of the year, He’s got us making presents; And I’m happy! Big band showtune from ‘Harry for the Holidays’ perpetuates the stereotype of the made-for-labor Santa’s helper.
A lovely personal scene from Blackaby about “Last Year’s Christmas Tree.” Everyone’s there. Caroline’s special Gin, But Terry’s not joining in this year–Dry for seven days. Smooth single malt pop.
Even more personal is Leek Mali’s “Christmas Lockup.” In his 6 by 8 he’s rapping alone. No one else is there. In fact I hit Ms. Lela, she ain’t smoked a jay in seven days. So, not as merry. But only a minute and a half.
The Listies mock ’12 Days’ with their “7 Days of Christmas.” Australian gross kid humor is lost in translation for me. Hope you cope.
The Press help out with actual rocking involving nights. “Seven Nights of Chanukah” starts arguments over which food, games, calendaring, and the actual number of nights are appropriate. It’s a boss happening mystery.
Leo Yang does a piano bar whisper about being a child and kinda overdoing the Christmas morning with stockings in the bed, getting up at 7 to attack the boxes, and such. But “The Most Heavenly Christmas Gift” is some angelic house call. Dreamy. But scary.
It was 7 in the morning; I checked if he was snoring, claims Benjamin Rinartz (feat. Sai Crutchfield, Konner Remlinger & Tyler Wilson) after the garage rock reveal “Santa Ate My Brownie.” BLUE ALERT reactions ensue.
EXP recalls getting up at 5AM as a child, now UK-rapping during this decade, “Christmas at the 20 Summat,” he doesn’t want to get up with the nieces at 7AM… So I’m getting up to 7 presents, then I’m getting drunk–will be all that’ll happen. Why rush it?
“Christmas Morning” is the morning after for Fralphie Jenkins. BLUE ALERT though, ‘cuz he’s not a happy hangover kinda guy; despite saying: It’s 7 am, the Ubers outside, You guys take off, I’ll be alright. There’s trash, it’s a mess, he’s sodden… merry yeah.
Newland has naughty plans for his bae when he’ll be “Home for the Holidays.” I’ll pull up at the crib around seven, he raps expectantly. Be ready.
It’s seven o’ clock and I’m on my way Eating the miles down this highway croons Brian McKnight in the schlocky country tune “Christmas You and Me.” But then it’s eleven o’clock… and he’s not there yet. Don’t wait up, kids.
Admitting she’s late Cece Williams swans: Flight arrivals are a bit delayed; Party’s at 7 and I’m gonna late, Still a few more gifts to buy. Funky pop for “It’s Christmas” creates a somber yet elegant mood.
Eight was my favorite number as a kid or whenever someone would ask ‘What’s your favorite number?’ and i felt i had to come up with some kind of answer. Let’s explore its eight-ness to discover what that says about me.
Rap by committee from Jabez (feat. B. Wells, Magician G, Dek4y, Slikadaice, DaVan, Diizii & DefNOTBio), “8 G’s of Christmas” represents 12 G’s more than our featured number. This marathon places for perseverance, but the ‘message’ is all over the place. BLUE ALERT WTF
Much more fun is the rap “Christmas Bae” from Sora: Summer kiss under mistletoe–you are Christmas Bae, So cold you like ice, lemme do a figure eight. Young love can still blossom in the cold, in the beats.
Did you say figure 8? “The Dragon Sisters Holiday Special” from The Dragon Sisters raps out a flirty BLUE ALERT holiday come on: I gotta sexy ass body, I’m that figure 8 boss. Work it, dude.
Despite alcohol and weed, all that’s left for HeyMrNoOdLeS is “a sad christmas song” after you left and broke his heart. This BLUE ALERT alt pop is only music box sad, so no drastic hotline calls… yet. He does count up to 8.
We Like That use ‘Nutcracker’ to squeeze out the depressed “Home for Christmas.” This roller coaster of dysfunctional family fun spies out: My grandmother just gave my niece The ninth check of the day; And when my aunt found out She told her that she only gave her eight. But then the spier gets a bottle. Solid comedy.
Too much in his head, _patrickconnor applies his heavily orchestrated pop “Cynical Christmas Song” to itself. His meta-criticism goes like this: This song is the pinnacle of cynical devices That are present in the best Christmas tunes: Emotive chord-progression and a syncopated drone To get these feelings across to you, Eight-part harmonies, String-section bassline, descending… Excellent. No notes.
Hiding from Helicopters gets grrl kooky with “Bells.” This xylophone experimental pop takes poetry to the endtimes (Wait, are these the end times?) with lines like: Christmas is for hope And we left that in last year. Yet, we are encouraged to Light your pretty candles Light up 8 or 9, but only if you want. Hauntingly confusing.
8 reindeer? What if they get the flu? “Fly Possum Fly” is Grant Malory Smith (feat. EmiSunshine)’s bluegrass solution featuring critters (with 50 teeth in little mouths) who have eight, then six, then four, then two more hours to gitRdone. Wild stuff.
Kid stuff ready is VeggieTales with their famed “The 8 Polish Foods of Christmas.” This is polka ’12 Days’ with culinary edifying applied. Learn something. About meat.
Nathan Webb name checks a brand (Eating loads of cookies like they’re going out of fashion, Eating After Eights, yes please I’ll have the last one) while exploring the input/output math of “Christmas Farts.” This tootling Middle-Eastern rap rollicker makes a party game out of who dealt it.
Wild slide guitar takes “Cowgirl Mermaid Christmas” all over the range. It’s been eight long months of quarantine. So get ready for a ho ho hoe down. Yule haw.
Also marking time, Mirabelle Meek notes It’s been eight and a half months; It snowed when we fell in love, Now the crisp air’s back and it smells like you. “Yours This Christmas” is light pop that wafts above ordinary concerns to reach the heights of love.
Pulling a 180, Ants on a Log (feat. Billy Jonas) pop announce “I’m Not a Christmas Celebrator.” Instead of the 25th, they watch for dates like January 8th, National Bubble Bath Day. Plenty more holidays come up; you should join. in.
How far? “THE GRINCH” by Alexander Pielsticker (ft. Manny Houston) promises through instrumental rap that he’s not as scary as the guy from ‘8 Mile.’ So not that far.
I’m eight stories up… bury me six feet deep… Hishandsmilk (feat. Hashter) self degrades while bemoaning Rudolph’s outcast fate in “Have Christmas Without Me.” This is morose rap, so it trickles more than tom-toms.
Deseis is awakened Christmas Eve Night, but not by Santa. More cutesy rap revels in “The Night I Battled Krampus.” I mean he was eight feet tall without even tryin, but the showdown becomes a rap battle. Sick burns ensue.
As monstrous, BLUEALERT “Saint Dickolas” has eight inches as well as eight reindeer. And this chipmunk rap details how he’s using it. Pant, moan.
You know what should be eight feet tall? The tree from “Del Davis Tree Farm.” Follow along with the industrial (yet drawling) rap from Primus.
Or, the other kind of tree, the “Pringle Rothell Christmas Tree.” this turns out to be an 8 foot yucca on a barbed wire fence All dressed up in aluminum cans. Race Ricketts plays this unplugged folkish recitation for cultural significance.
Rocking his love, Crlo wants you to be his “Santa Baby.” He does promise to deck the halls with 8 inches of snow tonight. Hair metal sentiment.
Jeff Mac is far from where he loves. His peri-prog rocker “One More Step” poeticizes this trouble with similes about soldiering, weather, and pain. Still, gonna fight: One step at a time, Eight more makes nine…. Will he make it??
Painful childhood memories contribute to BLUE ALERT rap from Yabba in the syncopated “No Christmas.” So poor, there was no Christmas. Plus which, that’s Santa in blood; I’m killing them raindeers I don’t give a fuck As shot start to spray that 8 year old me. Hard times. Now she rich.
Goo Goo Dolls address the rockabilly to the naughtiest of eight year olds: “You Ain’t Gettin’ Nothin’.” Underage drinking, grand larceny, pet torture… i think 5 to ten would be more appropriate than nothin’. Super cool.
Matt Dorrien uses rose-colored glasses to “Sure Miss Those Days atChristmas.” Sure there was snow and tree shopping, but also Long ago when I was eight I can still remember My parents fought all holiday (All those broken dishes). Ironic easy listening pop.
Matthew West similarly asks Take me back to eight years old (These days Peace on Earth is hard to find). Strangely the pop “Hope of Christmas” is in simple prayer. Do eight-year-olds do it better?
Eight years old and in a wheelchair… in line to see Santa–holy cow! “Santa’s Prayer” by Doc Edwards and the Buffalo River Boys is a plodding country tear-jerker about the coma-bound trucker daddy. Holy Moley Cow!
Now a “Hat Made of Mistletoe” could be a creepy number, but Cody Johnson’s barn-burning fiddling and the childish revelation: Miss Darla, how you sparkle like a shiny new toy, And I know I’m just an eight year old lonesome cowboy leads us to be happy for the little entrepreneur. Yippee-kiss-ya.
Just as sure is the protagonist of Bruce Hornsby’s leader of the tree searching posse song: Such a strong boy could haggle too; Eight years old could arm wrestle you, Fast as a horse and slick as a snake; We’ll make it snappy and won’t be late. But this ragtime rocker becomes “Lost in the Snow,” and this little kid is dying…
