B-Sides For X-Mas

Brenda Kutz White, 1985 — You know, I think that’s it. I’m done. I quit. This has gone too far. I just can’t do it anymore. Not now. Not after this. Anyway, Merry Christmas!

Tom Waits, 1989 — Sweet mother of mercy, that voice.

Mistletoe Disco Band, 1980 — Christmas and Disco, together at last.

Billy Gilman & Rosie O’Donnell, 2000 — I’m not a violent man, but the first time I heard this song, I was waiting in a long line at Best Buy, and the sound of Billy Gilman’s voice made me want to strangle someone. After the second chorus, I ditched the items I had planned to purchase in the nearest end cap, and somehow left the store without injuring myself or anyone else.

RuPaul, 1993 — Back to back Drummer Boys! RuPaul doesn’t have as much of an ego about his/her rendition, dropping the definite article “the”, probably in an effort to appeal to the everyman cross-dressing Christmas caroler. I think it works.

Ringo Starr, 1999 — Ringo Starr would like to take this opportunity to remind you that he was in the Beatles. Ever heard of them?

Pebbles & Bamm Bamm, 1965 — This seems like a pretty bizarre choice of song for a pair of pre-historic toddlers to sing. Especially when you consider that they’re singing about the birth of Jesus, which would be several thousand years in the future. Maybe they heard about it from the Jetsons. Either way, it’s still an odd choice. Maybe not as bad as Britney covering the Rolling Stones, but weird nonetheless.

C-3PO, R2-D2, and Friends, 1980 — Good tune or not, you’ve gotta admit it’s a tough question to answer.

Evie Tornquist, 1977 — Christmas is all about traditions. For me, as a kid, the Christmas season hadn’t begun until we’d picked up my prodigal sister from the airport, set up the tree, brought out the anglocentric nativity scene, and put on the Evie record. Come to think of it, that’s probably where my love for mind-bendingly awful Christmas music came from. Here’s where it all started.

Robert Goulet, 1969 — That’s not just a warm sentiment, either. You’d better hurry your jingle-bell-jinglin’ ass home or, well, the reindeer won’t come back, or something. No ho-ho. Woah-woah. Until you get here mistletoe will miss a kiss that won’t be kissing. Wait, what?

Cindy Brady, 1970 — Quite possibly the all-time worst interpretation of this particular holiday classic, which is an accomplishment, because it’s not an especially difficult piece of music. There’s something charming about how consistently behind the beat she is, but then again I did just drink a half-liter of eggnog, so my judgement may be impaired.

Christmas Accordion, ???? — I have next to nothing on this one, but who doesn’t love Christmas carols played on an accordion?

Crash Test Dummies, 1991 — I might have more to say about this song if I could get past the first 14 seconds. When played back on high-end speakers, Brad Roberts' voice is capable of the fabled brown note, causing people and pets alike to suddenly lose control of their bowels. Which, depending on the quality of your headphones/computer speakers, might render today’s song NSFW. You have been warned.

The Pointer Sisters, 1987 — And he’s bringing assless chaps for all the girls and boys.

David Seville & The Chipmunks, 1959 — You’re almost certainly familiar with the Chipmunks’ song where Alvin wants a hula-hoop. This one is different. In this one, Alvin doesn’t want a hula-hoop, he wants a girl chipmunk. He’s not picky — small, fat, tall — it doesn’t matter. Luckily, Alvin has a magic harmonica that he uses to make girl chipmunks to do whatever he wants. BONUS: If you think that’s creepy, just listen to what Alvin really sounded like.

Little Rita Faye, 1953 — After her music career didn’t pan out, Little Rita Faye found her calling teaching abstinence-only sex education to pine saplings had two children, one of whom requested that I remove potentially libelous statements about Rita Faye, specifically the allegations that (a) Rita Faye had a less-than-lengthy music career, and (b) that Rita Faye taught sex education at any point in time, to any species of tree or animal; both of which are absolutely false.

Buck Owens & His Buckaroos, 1968 — Leave it to a country singer to tell it like it is about Christmas consumerism. Things haven’t gotten much better since Buck sang this song, but I’d like to think the gifts are a little more interesting these days. A coloring book?

The Golddiggers, 1969 — There’s a virtual truckload of information on the innermets about The Golddiggers, but I didn’t really read any of it. The gist of it is that they were strategically placed eye-candy on Dean Martin’s variety show in the late 60s. Why strategically placed? Allegedly Dean Martin refused to attend any rehearsals for his own show, so every bit he did, he was just winging it. The girls were there for “padding”. If it seems odd to jump from variety show eye-candy to holiday music recording artists, remember that Lindsay Lohan and Paris Hilton both made records, and someone you hang out with probably bought one. You see, we’re all part of the problem.

Gospel Bill, 1981-ish — I couldn’t find a ton of information about this one, but it appears to be from a special christmas episode of an early incarnation of the Gospel Bill Show, in which a dog named Barkamaeus saves the town of Dry Gulch from money-hungry real estate developers by winning an ad-hoc rap competition with this performance. Okay, I made up the part about the developers and the competition, but there really is a dog named Barkamaeus, and he really does rap about Christmas.

Bryan Adams, 1984 — I don’t know what manner of record producer looked at the world’s christmas music offerings and decided he needed Bryan Adams to record a reggae song, but it was an inspired decision. To those who would point out that Bryan Adams is French-Canadian and in no way qualified or capable of doing reggae, his birth certificate does say that he was born in Kingston, albeit the one in Ontario.

Cheekyboy, 2006 — This is genius: what happens when you put DJ Kool’s classic Let Me Clear My Throat in a darkened room with Hillary Duff and some eggnog and peppermint schnapps? Holiday Magic™, that’s what. (Taken from the 2006 mash-up record Santastic II: Clausome.)

Pete Fountain, 1967 — Nothing says “rock” like a clarinet solo, so if you’re Pete Fountain and you find yourself making a Christmas record, Jingle Bell Rock is the obvious choice. I love how the vocals come in at seemingly random intervals, and then just as you’re ready to start singing along — BAM! — more clarinet. That’s Pete’s gift to the world: more clarinet. Thanks, Pete.

Cyndi Lauper, 1998 — We all know what she was getting at with She Bop, but what the hell is Christmas Conga? I guess it’s what you do when you’re 45 and looking to rekindle that holiday magic, so to speak. I can’t connect all the dots, but somehow I blame Gloria Estefan for this. (Hat tip to Kristina for sending me this monstrosity.)

Ray Bolger, 1963 — Yes, that Ray Bolger. He wasn’t just a figment of Dorothy’s imagination. In real life he wrote and performed songs about developmentally disabled elves whom other elves coerce into breaking into people’s homes in order to give “toys” to “children”. Now there’s a story that needs to be told with Will Ferrell in the lead role.

Boney M, 1981 — From the German-by-way-of-the-West-Indies mastermind who brought us BABY DO YOU WANNA BUMP comes this handsome retelling of a holiday classic. I hear these guys were huge in Iran in the mid-80s. No, seriously.

The Three Suns, 1952 — Okay, maybe Christmas polka is a good idea. Wow, are we done already? Merry Christmas, everyone! See you next year!

Liberace, 1974 — Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about, he’s just eccentric. Lots of guys wear fur coats and diamond rings and eye makeup.

Robert Goulet, 1969 — I’ll cut right to the chase: a reindeer told Robert Goulet that Santa Claus, like the old testament God of the Israelites, is angry with the world’s evil and iniquity, and is therefore canceling Christmas indefinitely. Like a modern-day Jonah, Robert Goulet is burdened with the responsibility to go into the world and warn of Santa’s impending judgment. Wait — what the hell?

69 Boyz, Quad City DJ’s, and K-Nock, 2000 — Hey Player! If you’re like me, you’re terrible at providing your friends and family with a reasonable list of items you might like to receive as gifts. My lists always include things like a new car and a case of beer. This song features not one, but two lists, chock-full of helpful holiday suggestions. Check it out.

Bobby Vinton, 1987 — Christmas polka? Who thought this would be a good idea? “Santa must be Polish/All dressed in red and white/Slipping down the chimney/While you’re asleep at night.” Is the Polish Defamation League aware of this?

New Kids on the Block, 1989 — I can’t believe anyone ever took these guys seriously. It would be such brilliant self-parody if only they weren’t serious. I mean, they announce within the first two TR-808 clave hits that they are, in fact, serious. Following in the footsteps of their forefathers New Edition, the New Kids tried to add a meaningful social message to their holiday single, but I’m not sure they know exactly what that message is supposed to be. It has something to do with children. The children of the world.

Patsy Raye, 1959 — So I guess this is what hipsters were like in the late fifties. That is, if hipsters wrote poetry about Christmas and performed them with a muffled trumpet.

William Hung, 2004 — This isn’t really fair, because William Hung’s entire career is based on the fact that his singing is terrible. And to be honest, I wasn’t all that amused by the whole thing the first time around; for an Asian guy doing awful karaoke versions of popular songs, he wasn’t particularly interesting or innovative. I had a Grinch-style change of heart when I realized that Silver Bells absolutely belongs to William Hung. Like Jeff Buckley covering Hallelujah, Hung has made the definitive version of the song — for better or worse — and all future versions will be measured against it.

Sonny James, 1966 — I don’t really have anything clever to say about this one, except that those kids on the chorus make my ears cry. Instead of conjuring images of childhood innocence and the warmth of Christmas, I can only think of horror-movie kids, like those blonde kids or that movie about the corn. The only thing keeping me listening is that virtuoso celesta (like a glockenspiel; less German, more Mister Rogers), which is a little creepy in and of itself. Creepy good.

C-3PO, Jon Bon Jovi, and some Star Kids or something, 1980 — First of all, yes, this is a Star Wars Christmas song. And yes, the whole record is terrible — and I mean truly, deeply terrible. But that’s not the half of it: it’s also Jon Bon Jovi’s first-ever commercial recording (he’s credited as John Bongiovi), in which he’s commissioned by C-3PO to lead an intergalactic boys choir in singing Christmas greetings to R2-D2. It boggles the mind.

Johnny Paycheck, 1993 — Johnny Paycheck is probably the greatest country singer you’ve never paid attention to. What I love about this tune is that slight tinge of bitterness and anger he brings to an otherwise trite and emotionless song. It’s as if his family kicked him out years ago, saying, “Go spend Christmas at one of those honky tonks you always go to.” We’ll have a honky tonk Christmas, all right. All night long.

New Edition, 1985 — New Edition is indirectly responsible for unleashing a whole lot of crap on the world. From establishing the template for the whole boy band thing, to launching the pop/r&b careers of Bobby Brown and Bell Biv DeVoe, it’s hard to deny their influence on the pop world. Then there’s this 1985 Christmas feel-good-a-thon, which set the gold standard for schmaltzy Christmas pop — a standard we have yet to really improve upon. Thanks, guys.

Captain Kangaroo, 1962 — Captain Kangaroo explains puberty to a fir tree. “Little fir tree, don’t cry so much/You’ll be a Christmas tree next year/You’ll grow so big/You’ll grow so stout/All your little twigs will soon branch out.” Ewww…

Extreme, 1992 — Isn’t Extreme supposed to be a metal band? Has anyone heard an Extreme song that’s even remotely — in the hard rockin’ sense — extreme? No, these gentlemen are known for their softer side, and Christmas Time Again is no exception. It’s like More Than Words' home-schooled little sister, full of sentimental notions that completely miss the point, and occasionally tries to rhyme “time” with “time”. (Nuno, it doesn’t rhyme; it’s the same word.)

Jimmy Osmond, 1976 — For my money, it just doesn’t get any better than thirteen-year-old Jimmy Osmond pleading with Santa not to bring him a sleigh for Christmas. See, there’s not enough snow and ice in Los Angeles — where Jimmy Osmond lived at the time — for a sleigh to be practical, or even useful. That’s all Jimmy’s saying. It just wouldn’t make sense, would it? A sleigh, in Los Angeles? Sacramento, maybe. Sure, it’s hardly the North Pole, but you’d be close enough to the mountains that you could just drive a few miles out of town — or get one of your eight siblings to drive you, in Jimmy’s case — to the country for the occasional sleigh ride. But not in Los Angeles. That’s just silly.

Grandaddy, 2000 — The best part about this dead-pan farce of a Christmas tune is that you get the sense that Grandaddy really does admire Parsons’ work. Why else would they devote nearly three minutes of bone-dry sarcasm to him?

Burl Ives, 1968 — A brown-nosing mouse wraps up a piece of cheese as a gift for Santa Claus, who names him “Santa Mouse,” and lets him hang out on Santa’s shoulder. Also, Burl Ives is completely insane.

Paul Revere and the Raiders, 1967 — Arguably the biggest band to come out the northwest (if you ignore that whole grunge thing), Paul Revere and the Raiders made one corker of a Christmas album, with bizarre psychedelic rock punctuated by interludes from an authentic Salvation Army band. Rain, Sleet, Snow — a musing on the efficacy of the postal service — is somehow the centerpiece of the record, and it’s probably the only track that could hold its own on a best-of compilation. If you have the means, I recommend listening to this one while drunk and/or heavily sedated.

Tony! Toni! Toné!, 1990 — This is just embarrassing. It sounds like it could easily have been an outtake from some forgotten holiday special episode of A Different World, yanked at the last minute because the song was making people irritable. It’s surprisingly religious for an early-90s R&B Christmas song. But listen to how seamlessly one of the Tonys intermixes the sacred with the profane: “So this Christmas Eve/I’m gonna lay out by the tree/Me and my girlie sharin’ the Word/Ooh, you know what I mean…/[squealing girl]/Opening up the presents.” So the song sucks, but you gotta give the Tonys some credit for their skillful use of holiday innuendo.

Bryan Adams, 1985 — I told you there’d be Bryan Adams. In a shining example of the over-wrought power balladry that made your sister cry in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, who else (besides perhaps Adam Sandler) would have absolutely no problem belting out lines like “To see the joy in the children’s eyes/The way that the old folks smile/Says that Christmas will never go away”? It’s that rare combination of glittering generalities and queasy sentimentality that earns Bryan Adams his rightful place as chaplain aboard the SS Holiday Cheese.

Bob Loftis, 1974 — The premise is simple: contrary to popular belief, Santa Claus is in fact a Texan, and something of a cowboy, though instead of roping/herding cattle, he laughs a lot and sings for his herd of reindeer. As they say, everything’s bigger in Texas, and you can’t get much bigger than Santa. This is a novel idea, of course, but Loftis presents practically zero evidence to back up his claim — even the anecdotal evidence you’d expect to be in a song devoted to the subject — so I’m unconvinced.

Prince and the Revolution, 1984 — Revolution-era Prince sings to his dead girlfriend, reminiscing about swimming and gambling (well, pokeno). We’re not sure if it was pneumonia or strep throat that did her in, but Prince admits to spending the last seven years drinking himself blind on banana daiquiris and admiring her younger sister. Fa la la la la, la la, la la.

Lou Monte, 1967 — One of the most important functions of art is to help us convey complicated ideas in a meaningful way, forging relationships and bridging gaps of time, space, and culture. Lou Monte wrestled with such an idea: how would Santa’s reindeer cope with the rocky terrain of the Italian peninsula? While the answer might seem obvious (Santa’s reindeer can fly), Lou Monte goes deeper than that, and tells us a story about a donkey. A christmas donkey.

Kurtis Blow, 1979 — Ignore the obvious pun in the title and the lack of any discernable hook, this novelty track was perhaps the first charting hip-hop single, ever. (Rapper’s Delight, the first hip-hop single to hit gold record status, was released a month or so later.) Its success launched the career of hip-hop pioneer Kurtis Blow, and introduced middle America to the awkward, angular cadence and barely-reinvented disco of early hip-hop. And like every other early hip-hop track, listen closely for the parts the Beastie Boys have sampled. (Hold it now…)

Bob Rich, 1970 — We’ve seen this one before — it came to my attention last year about three weeks too late. So to start off this year’s round of holiday goodness, here it is again. Information on this track is scarce, but it sports some unapologetically deep lyrics: “I’ve got Christmas in my pants/and my hands on my hips/I’ve got Easter for a zipper/and Shakespeare’s upper lip.” Whoa.