Ah, the holidays.
A time at which we put aside our petty differences to compulsively stress over meeting the conflicting deadlines of finding the perfect gifts and doing all the bullshit you promised your client by the end of the year. Somewhere in there there's the story of a child being born to humble - in fact, humiliating -- circumstances, who would grow up and literally change the world.
Enough....I was hoping to write about holiday music. In the spirit of full disclosure.....the spirit of this entire blog, I suppose... I'll tell you: I love Christmas music. Almost all of it in fact.
Some cringe when they hear "Sleigh Ride" in the mall for the ten thousandth time. Not me....that song is a goddamned American masterpiece. Particularly the low brass right around the two minute mark.
O Holy Night? Gives me a lump in my throat every time.
Johnny Matthis? Sorry, but that stuff is golden.
Hell, there's a mentally challenged street musician who plays electric guitar across the street from my apartment on most weekends. The guys drives me up the fucking wall because he only knows about nine songs and plays them on a loup for the better part of five hours most nights (Jesus Christ, enough with "All Along the Watchtower". I can't get no relief, neither, Jimi.)
I despise this guy with an uncommon passion, for his insistence on playing at a volume so loud that I can hear it clear as a bell with the windows closed, half a block away, five stories up and across one of the busiest thoroughfares in all of Washington D.C.
And yet, this evening when he busted out "Silent Night", it was the first time I didn't hate him.
But not everyone gets off the hook. No siree....If you want to hear more about the Christmas tunes I love, you can check out the blog from last year. (Proud of that one, in fact).
This year, you get to hear about the Christmas songs I hate.
Baby Its Cold Outside - Ray Charles and Betty Carter
I'm not even sure this is a Christmas song, but I hear it an awful lot this time of year.
People who know me know my feelings about Ray Charles: he was an abusive son of a bitch, never you mind the grinning and swaying Jamie Fox nonsense. You want a nice blind piano player, I can find you one. You want one who gets off on humiliating his drummers, Ray Charles is your man.
Moving our attention back to the song, let's start with Betty Carter's voice. What the fuck is that all about? She sounds like she's been drugged.
Which brings me to my next point: This song seems to be the preface to a date rape.
No means no, Ray.
Santa Baby - Eartha Kitt
There are certain members of my family who love this song, including my mom.
And this has always struck me as a little ironic, because at the time we were growing up, mom usually was teetering on the fine lines between depressed, angry and fucking crazy.
Regardless of how you want to diagnose the state of her mental well-being, an unavoidable fact is that a great deal of her depression and anger manifested itself in some very staunch and vocal opinions that were well into the realm of the puritanical. The fact that she has a soft spot for this completely trashy piece of schlock novelty makes me crazy in its inconsistency with her worldview as we once knew it.
(Think I've got mommy issues? Fine. But I'm willing to bet that an awful lot of the people who find this song to be sexy also like to use the word "daddy" in bed.)
Seriously, Santa is a married man. Try not to give him a blowjob this year, Eartha.
Simply Having A Wonderful Christmas Time - Paul McCartney
Dude. You were in the Beatles. Get it the fuck together.