Rocks Off's Annual Descent Into Sunny 99.1's Christmas Music K-Hole
Sometimes being naughty is nice...
Since 2008, I have spent an hour listening to Sunny 99.1 FM's Christmas music for the Rocks Off blog. Right after Thanksgiving, it's the first thing on my checklist, right next to finding new, weird holiday music for you and trying not to gain 20 pounds in merriment by January.
Most of the time on Sunny 99.1, the holiday tunes don't start until the day before or even Turkey Day, but this year it started last week, to the misspelled "shagren" of plenty of folks on station's Facebook wall. Well, it's been a rough year here on Earth, what with all the death, destruction, Charlie Sheen, and the pepper spray, so why not start the Christmas music early to further rattle our flimsy cages?
For that matter, is it too early start live-blogging Christmas music on the radio? There is just no time table for such things, and I am bored and listless from all the food yesterday.
With each passing year, my perception of the hour of Christmas jams has changed, from angry and pious, to catty and shitty, and then riddled with frustration. Maybe it's called acceptance and growing up, but this year may be our last doing this to ourselves. It's time to pass the torch and let someone else get Christmas on their shoes. Quite frankly we would rather hear an hour of this stuff rather than listen to most of the music in the top 40 right now.
Oh Hell, let's do this thing, after the commercials end...
"Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas," The Carpenters
"Christmas future is far away," sings Karen Carpenter, as co-workers pass by my window smoking cigarettes and wearing warm-weather clothing. Honestly, Ms. Carpenter could have sang anything and made it sound maudlin. "Now you're messing with the real son of a bitch," and there go the waterworks.
"Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer," Harry Connick, Jr.
I have a confession to make: I don't like swing music, and certainly not cross-bred with Christmas stuff. It reminds of the '90s, being fat and trying to get into a style of music that wasn't threatening to my parents to not make waves.
"O Holy Night," Josh Groban
See, now at least I can respect the voice, because this has a zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.....
"Winter Wonderland," Eurythmics
Hey Annie and Dave, what was with the horror synths at the beginning? Awesome. I don't think that many people who sing Christmas music think about what they are actually singing and it's reflex and muscle memory. But there will never be new holiday music because it's too easy to sing songs from the public domain, that and our country to devolving into godlessness I tell you.
"O Tannenbaum," Vince Guaraldi
This was over too soon. I was getting a holiday chub and it jingle-balled me.
"Holly Jolly Christmas" Michael Bublé
I'm not going to kiss anyone for you, Mike. What if I told you to fuck your wife for me?
12:38pm "Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!," Dean Martin
Say pally-boy, can you freshen my drink? I bet Christmas in '60s was better because we could have all been wiped off the map by the Russians at any given moment. That, and the pot was way better.
"I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus," The Ronettes
Mom was doing Santa on the side for extra presents for you, because you just weren't that good this year since you tattled on your soccer coach for taking pictures of you in just a training bra. Don't shoot the messenger.
Station break: Of course the streets around the malls are all too goddamned busy. Baybrook Mall is at 95% capacity. There is blood on the floors. So much blood. Someone had a baby in line last night and handing it to a cop since she didn't want to lose her place in line. And every commercial is set to sleigh bells and strings, and December isn't for three days. The voice in this one car dealership ad sounds like he's an alien overlord. Neuuu cahhhhs.
"Jingle Bell Rock," Hall & Oates
Snowing and blowing indeed, bros. You just know that in the '80s, Oates' moustache wasn't called the "Dust Buster" for nothing.
12:52pm "Little Drummer Boy," Wilson Phillips
Any Wilson Phillips is good Wilson Phillips. That whole self-titled album is gold.
"Jingle Bells," Ray Conniff
This picture to the right of Mr. Conniff is all I wanna know about him. Anything more will ruin the appeal. As a man who also likes holding tiny dogs, I salute him. Rest in peace, sir.
"Happy Xmas," John Lennon / The Plastic Ono Band
I just realize that the snack counter at the YMCA next door is closed today. Dammit. Oh, hey John Lennon.
"Frosty The Snowman," Willie Nelson
A country Christmas double-shot begins with Willie. Insert generic drug reference. Repeat.
"Do You Hear What I Hear," Martina McBride
I want Martina McBride to eye me at a bar for Christmas and make out with me in a photobooth, or a reasonable facsimile.
"We Wish You A Merry Christmas," Kenny G
The other night I went to this event for the families of organ donors with my family and they snuck in some Kenny G as the background music and I giggled, because probably would have made my late grandfather giggle too. Even though I found a Celine Dion album in his office after he passed on.
"It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas," Bing Crosby
I only have ten minutes of this left before I can go back to listening to the new Childish Gambino LP on Rdio. Sweet relief. It's really easy to sound like Bing Crosby actually when you are all alone.
Station break: A message about donating toys to less fortunate kids. Into it. Give them all turntables and Sabbath records. It's humanitarian, really. A cash-for-gold ad reminds me that I didn't get my Glenn Beck fix this morning on the way to work.
"Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas," Amy Grant
I needed this to close me out, really. No irony, no bullshit, just straight-up, lush holiday madness. I want a pill that makes my body feel the way this song sounds. And that's not just a former pill-head talking, I swear.
P.S. I am still editing this blog and I haven't changed the station yet. Who's the sicko, now? I will cut it off after Bruce Springsteen's "Santa Claus Is Comin' To Town" wraps up. Promise.
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