By Corey Deiterman
By William Michael Smith
By Jef With One F
By Craig Hlavaty
By Jesse Sendejas Jr.
By Sonya Harvey
By Jesse Sendejas Jr.
By Nathan Smith
Another year, another rich haul of Christmas CDs. But instead of coming up with just another essay about holiday music, this time around we decided to help out the ailing economy -- not to mention you frazzled holiday shoppers out there -- and do a Christmas CD Buying Guide. So jolly old Saint Wack took ten of the best records he got this yuletide and matched 'em up with a friend or family member on your list. All so you wouldn't have to.
If your loved one
has a mullet and likes to shred on air guitar: Santamental, Steve Lukather and Friends.
is a terminally depressed '60s drug casualty: What I Really Want for Christmas, Brian Wilson.
Highlights: Outstanding cover art; quasi-Caribbean arrangement of "Deck the Halls"; beautiful harmonies and easy-to-understand words of "Auld Lang Syne"; damn-near baroque rendition of "We Wish You a Merry Christmas."
is your frumpy maiden great-aunt: The Regis Philbin Christmas Album
Highlights: One and only one: "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer," which features both a terrible Donald Trump cameo and an amusingly maniacal outro. Hell, come to think of it, all of this CD has trainwreck appeal -- to cite just one painful example, Pat Boone never whitenized and neutered any tune more than Regis and wife Joy do here with the once hypersexy "Baby, It's Cold Outside."
is someone you wish would die a slow, painful death by "music"-induced brain hemorrhage: The Greatest Holiday Classics, Kenny G
Highlights: You can say one thing for Mr. G: The sound of his sax sure is, um, recognizable. But then so is the sound of a grackle colony in an uproar, and I'd rather hear that than this any day.
Highlights: Nothing in particular. It's not a bad CD, but there's nothing unusual or unexpected here.
has a fully functional margarita machine on their bedside table: Christmas Album, Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass
Highlights: Pretty much the whole enchilada, from the samba-fied and almost Beach Boys-like opener of "Winter Wonderland" through to the stately choir and lone trumpet of Bach's "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring" that winds things up. It's hard to believe, but this thing's been out of print for years. Kudos to Shout! Factory for bringing it back.
screams "Fuck you!" slams the door in your face, and blasts Saosin and UnderOath CDs: Taste of Christmas, various artists.
Highlights: Musically, absolutely none. For me, though, I find it amusing to ponder the near-certainty that within five or so years, virtually all of the kids force-fed this cloying drivel will be cranking hardcore tunes like "Christmassacre" on the down low.
is more a Bart Simpson type of eight-year-old, in body or mind: Pull My Finger: Jingle Smells, various (f)artists
Highlights: It's not just a fart record -- also features burps. And it's not just a Christmas record, either -- there's a "Stinky Dreidel" in there too. Actually, it's kind of amazing how these people put together fart sounds to carry the melodies of these carols -- it reminds me a bit of some of those 1960s records by synth pioneers Robert Moog, Jean-Jacques Perrey and Gershon Kingsley. And since Rabelais, Dante, Chaucer and Joyce have all used farts in their works, you could make an argument for this as high art. But we won't be making that argument here.
All hail Big Poppa! Not only was the Notorious B.I.G. a master storyteller and MC, but he also never humped a corpse. That may seem faint praise for such a legend. However, his abstinence from necrophilia sets Biggie apart from his surviving friends and family, who have turned his moldy bones into the town bicycle. Witness the new Biggie Duets album, on which Sean Combs has created collaborations between the deceased and such luminaries as Nelly, Eminem, Snoop Dogg and Missy Elliott. For greasing up your greed and rutting once more in the rotting flesh of your friend, we proclaim a fatwa on you, Diddy!
Combs's perversions know no limit. He has actually created a corpse daisy chain with this record, putting Biggie on one track with 2Pac (!) and another with Bob Marley (!!). He should replace his sunglasses and chain with an orgy-guy mustache and a pickax.
Fatwa! Fatwa! Fatwa! Diddy, you have been drilling new holes into Biggie since the day he died. In the afterlife, may he have his way with you. It is written. BETWEEN THE CRACKS More self-described local bands for your edification Band name: Hollywood Black
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