(Shaking up suburban weeklies' status quo...)It’s that time of year when we must once again contemplate the age-old question: Who would win in a fight – Mannheim Steamroller or the Trans-Siberian Orchestra?
I’ve never imagined it to be much of a fight, just a lot of dancing around the ring. The crowd grows impatient, shouting “throw a punch” and “knock ‘em out.” But to no avail. Just when the match is about to go down the tubes, a wise and wavering voice pierces through the grumbling. The Ghost of Burl Ives rushes to the ring, pushing his way through the throng of sweaty, frustrated spectators. Flipping over the ropes, he throws down the gauntlet and says, “C’mon, ya bubble-blowing Casio twits, I’ll pound the whole lot of ya!”
What follows is a brutal beating, absent any good will, charity or peace typically associated with the holiday season.
And with that joke, let me re-introduce myself to my remaining audience: the 40 and over crowd.
Since we’re on the topic…I mean, since I’M on the topic (I’ve got to stop speaking for others), here are my Top Five Favorite Christmas Songs.
She’s Right on Time (1982) – Billy Joel: It’s mostly the video, which I saw a hundred times in ’82 on HBO’s Video Jukebox (this was the dawning of MTV), that made me realize this was a Christmas song. The opening line “Turn on all the Christmas lights/Baby’s coming home tonight…” is also a hint. Although, I wondered “What’s a Jewish kid writing about Christmas for?” Joel, like me, is from Long Island. Although Jewish, he wasn’t raised in a Jewish household, and even went to Catholic mass with his friends. Me, I was Catholic, and so automatically (at least in New York in the 80s-90s), went to Catholic mass.
Everyone on Long Island is a Billy Joel fan, even if you don’t like him. In the pop pantheon, his is the voice of Long Island, much like Springsteen is the heart of New Jersey. You’re born on Long Island, you’re issued a thick guttural accent, and an 8-track of The Stranger.
One day in 1983, I was in Sears, in Hicksville (an actual town, with a name whose literal meaning did not occur to me until I was in my teens). Innocent Man (the follow-up the The Nylon Curtain, which contains the aforementioned song) had just been released, so I was there to buy the LP. An older woman approached me and remarked on the album in my hands. “Do you like Billy Joel?” I probably said, “Yeah,” or something. To which she offered, “I’m his mother.” I don’t know what I said, maybe “Oh!” I don’t remember the rest. She probably was. Billy Joel was raised in Hicksville, and I can’t fathom any street cred an older woman would have garnered fibbing to a 14 year old lame enough to be buying his albums in a Sears. (Sears was my local record store at the time – I’ve certainly come a long way. Thank you, Portland!)
Anyway, I’ve gotten away from the Christmas theme, but I’ve always wanted to document that experience for the two or three people who would even care.
Fairytale of New York (1988) – The Pogues: Two Oirish knackers sail to Amerikay. He promises “cars big as bars,” but ends up in the drunk tank on Christmas Eve.
The boys of the NYPD choirWere singing "Galway bay"And the bells were ringing outFor Christmas day
The best lines (issued by the fairer of the duet) aren’t fit for a family newspaper, but here they are anyway:
You *******, you ******,
You cheap lousy ******,
Happy Christmas your ****,
I pray God it’s our lastAh, who but the Irish can distill the dark stuff from the joy?
Christmas in Hollis (1989) – Run DMC: My brothers and I repeat this verse every Christmas (and sometimes in, say, April):
It's Christmas time in Hollis QueensMom's cooking chicken and collard greensRice and stuffing, macaroni and cheeseAnd Santa put gifts under Christmas trees
Later, a refrain begins:
Rhymes so loud and proud you hear itIt's Christmas time and we got the spiritWe do indeed have the spirit. “Christmas in Hollis” was the standout track on 1989’s A Very Special Christmas, a benefit album recorded to raise money for the Special Olympics. Overall, not the best album, but there are a few delightful songs on this collection, most notably Run DMC’s classic. I suppose my birth in Queens influences my appreciation of the song. Although where I spent the first five years of my life, southwest of Hollis (on the border of Brooklyn) was different from that neighborhood. Provincial as all the sections of Queens was, we all loved Christmas! Especially its top PR honcho, Santa Claus!
St. Stephen’s Day Murders (1991) – The Chieftains with Elvis Costello: A tongue-in-cheek fantasy of poisoning the turkey to rid yourself of family come St. Stephen’s Day. St. Stephen’s Day, as it’s known in Ireland (Boxing Day in England), occurs on December 26th, and brings with it many traditions (none of which typically include the offing of relatives). Costello and the Chieftains add a morbid twist to the misery of family at Christmas. It’s a grand song, with such illustrious lyrics as:
There'll be laughter and tears over Tia Marias,Mixed up with that drink made from girders.’Cause it's all we've got leftas they draw their last breath,Ah, it's nice for the kids,as you finally get rid of them,In the St Stephen's Day Murders.
From a gorgeous album by The Chieftains, The Bells of Christmas.
P.S. – The “drink made from girders” refers to Irn Bru, a caffeinated Scottish soft drink. I recall on my visit to Glasgow that I cherished its thirst-quenching properties. Of course, I was staving off a massive hangover from being treated by the locals to an overwhelming amount of Teacher’s whisky, which celebrates its 175th anniversary this year.
Father Christmas (1978) – The Kinks: A buncha Brit punks bust the gob of a storefront Santa, and empty his kettle of pounds and pence. The protagonist is the said Santa. The song is not an indictment of local bullies, but a suggestion to remember those of lesser means who might find themselves to forced to steal for provisions come the holidays,
Have yourself a merry, merry ChristmasHave yourself a good timeBut remember the kids who got nothin'While you're drinkin' down your wine
This typed while I’m drinking down my wine! Let us remember that “Merry Christmas to all” means just that.
And so, Merry Christmas and/or Happy Holidays to you all! And may the music of this season (and all seasons) bring you joy and insight now and always!
I just finished reading, though the novel is not yet finished with me, Reading in the Dark by Seamus Deane. The story follows a family in Northern Ireland from 1945 to 1971, though most of the drama, muted yet roiling, occurs in the 50s. The narrator is the third child, the second son, and unnamed throughout the pages. Delivered in brief chapters, and recalled like a dozen fragments of dreams the night before, the novel is thick with a suspense so persistent that even the lighter moments do not betray the ever-present haunting of the family's history. The narrator becomes almost an apprentice of the secrets, an archaelogist or even a curator of an invisible museum whose permanent exhibit is his mother and what she knows, may know, and may have told. Of what she keeps.
