B-Sides for X-Mas

One last treat for you, since it’s Christmas and all. Happy New Year!

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!

Sweet mother of mercy, that voice.

Christmas and Disco, together at last.

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.

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

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.

Good tune or not, you’ve gotta admit it’s a tough question to answer.

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.

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?

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.

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

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.

And he’s bringing assless chaps for all the girls and boys.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.)

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.

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.)

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.

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.