Time is Running Out for My Christmas Music Listening

My interest in hearing Christmas music has dwindled over the years. Let's face it; most of it is not good, and even my nostalgia factor for it has waned. It's been the same songs, over and over, for at least seven decades, and new Christmas songs are difficult to write because there are a limited number of words one can rhyme with "bells" or "snow". 

I once didn't hate Christmas songs, or at least I tolerated them good-naturedly. I would reserve a night to decorate my tree and throw on a CD, usually the one by Anne Murray, to set a holiday mood. Her rendition of O Holy Night is the best version of a traditional carol I've yet to hear. (Most traditional carols don't have pleasing melodies. I guess you had to be there, in 1739, to appreciate them. But then again, in that age competition was scarce.)

 

Some people claim to hate Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree, but while it's pretty worn out, I still like the fact that it at least has some energy to it. And Brenda Lee is a good singer, as opposed to the likes of Burl Ives and Gene Autrey. (Seeing Burl Ives on my TV screen scared me when I was little.) 

In the country music Christmas world, the first recording that even made a splash was in 1965, with Buck Owens' Santa Looked a Lot Like Daddy. Maybe it became a hit because it was one of the first non-saccharine Christmas songs ~ and because it could have been a regular country hit with just a simple change of lyrics.

To hell with sentimentality; this Alan Jackson track is probably my favorite country Christmas song:

 

A few years back, I created a Spotify playlist of Christmas tunes, and that's been my go-to each holiday season, but again, the trouble lies in the fact that it's so repetitive. I haven't added a new song to it since it was created, because there aren't any good ones! Just to make the playlist last at least an hour, I had to include songs I don't really like, but are considered standards.

As for eighties pop Christmas tunes, I'm not a hater. I can listen to "Last Christmas" and even "Do They Know It's Christmas" once, but only once per year. On the other hand, two guys considered the best rock songwriters of all time probably wrote two of the worst Christmas songs of all time. Apparently a trait they shared was writing crappy Christmas tunes.

Just to get this out of the way, the all-time worst Christmas song EVER is Little Drummer Boy. They should play it on a loop at Guantanamo Bay as a form of torture.

To be fair, I'm not a big Christmas fan; at least not a big Christmas expectations fan. It was an exciting holiday when my kids were little, with all the treachery and the misdirection; then at last the big reveal(s) under the tree. I also went all out on the baking and candy making, because there were little people in my household who appreciated it. Now? Ehh, it's definitely an expense; I'll give you that.  

As for Christmas music, it's not that I'm a cynic; I'm just picky. I stopped singing along with Jingle Bells when I turned six. There is, however, one song...just one...that I would listen to regardless of whether it was December or July. Long-time followers of this blog know which one it is. Featuring it here has become a yearly tradition. It's worth pulling up my Christmas playlist just to hear it again.

Will I listen to Christmas music this year? Well, I've still got three days, and I'm not keen on breaking a tradition. I might have to give my playlist a whirl, despite myself. 

My 2024 Spotify Wrapped

I really fell down on the job this year, only managing to listen to 4,104 minutes of music. I've been working on a novel, and I can't write and listen to music at the same time. One of the two will suffer, and it'll likely be my writing. I plan to do better, listening-wise, next year.

I'll readily admit that I found no new music that interests me. Wait ~ I heard a song while I was waiting for my car at the auto dealership, and I Shazamed it. Turns out it's called Flower Shops by a guy named ERNEST (yes, all caps), featuring Morgan Wallen, who's apparently country's bad boy, but beats me. I don't listen to new music. I did, however, add the song to my "liked songs" on Spotify.

 

But I digress. For some mysterious reason, my most streamed song this year was "Perfect Love" by Trisha Yearwood. I have no idea why. The song is fine, but it's hardly a favorite. It's not even my favorite track by Trisha. Since the single is from 1997, I'm thinking it might have come up first on my 90's playlist, which would account for its multiple streams.

(I notice her ex-husband, Robert Reynolds, makes an appearance.)

Aside from this song, which I was frankly surprised to find at the top of my plays, my most streamed artist was....guess who? Yes, the undefeated champion, George Strait. In fact, I'm apparently a top 9% fan; kind of an insult. I should rank higher than that.

I've featured so many George Strait videos on this blog, I thought I'd do something different this time and feature a Brooks & Dunn song:

 

But really, my 2024 Wrapped isn't all about country.

 1. A Perfect Love ~ Trisha Yearwood

2. Addicted to Love ~ Robert Palmer

3. Everybody Wants to Rule the World ~ Tears for Fears

4. Someday Soon ~ Suzy Bogguss

5. Could It Be Love ~ Jennifer Warnes

On the other hand, my top five artists:

1. George Strait

2. Dwight Yoakam

3. The Mavericks

4. Marty Stuart

5. Johnny Rodriguez

 

It seems that Spotify was a little chintzier with details this year, but I was a little chintzier with my streaming, so I guess we're even. Even so, it's always nice to take a look back.

Kris Kristofferson

The late sixties and early seventies were Kris Kristofferson's time. One could not turn on country radio without hearing one of his compositions, though you might not have known it was his. Some pundits posit that he changed country music. Maybe, to a degree. They were certainly a jolt to a country fan's senses. Most country was straightforward. There was little to ponder in the lyrics. Whether it was Merle Haggard or Tammy Wynette's singles (mostly written by Billy Sherrill) or Loretta Lynn, the singer told you where they stood. 

Kristofferson's lyrics were straightforward, too, but they were elegant. And bittersweet. I joked once that every time a woman left his bed, he wrote a song about it. (Prove me wrong.)

His songs lent themselves to the syrupy, stringy fad of the time, but they could have been recorded in a more "countrified" manner ~ it wasn't his fault. Ray Price schmaltzed up what was probably a really good song, but I've never liked the recording.

 

Sammi Smith's producer also had a heavy hand, but I like this one far better:

Unlike a pure lyricist, Kristofferson could craft a melody; not a unique melody, but at least a pleasing one. His melodies broke no ground and they didn't vary much. Lyrics were his strong suit and he wrapped his melodies around the words.

The first time I heard Sunday Morning Coming Down was a live performance on Johnny Cash's ABC variety program. I didn't know it was also being recorded at the same time for the single release. My first take on it was, this melody is boring and repetitive. Only the chorus saves it. While I understand the mood the song wanted to convey, it basically consisted of, "I did this and then I did that". 

There are a few lesser-known Kristofferson songs (lesser known to non-country fans) that are much better. These, too, were big hits, by the way:

This is probably my favorite (sorry, can't find a decent live performance):

 

And who could ever forget this? (JLL was a treasure):
 

Again, no live video, but here's Faron Young:

Waylon:

Obviously, I can't include every hit. There are far too many for this space. But it struck me that reviewing Kris Kristofferson's songs is like a trip back in time to revisit all the greats in country music. (No, I didn't forget about Me and Bobby McGee.)

Kris would probably have been the first to tell you that he was no singer. That he was passable is the best one can say. Nevertheless, he had one big hit of his own:

Kristofferson transitioned from music to acting, then back again as one fourth of The Highwaymen.
 

(No, Jimmy Webb wrote that one.)

Kris Kristofferson lived to be eighty-eight; a very full life. And he left an indelible mark on country music.

Joe Bonsall

 

When my best friend Alice and I were barely in our teens, we'd go to every country music show that came to the old World War Memorial building in town. We barely cared who was playing, some old codgers like Ernest Tubb or Kitty Wells or a singer we'd only heard one song from on the radio. There wasn't much to do in our little town. We could either see a movie or go bowling. And most of the movies were awful, generally some hastily spat-out Elvis flick or something like Paint Your Wagon. The only fun we had at those movies was making fun of them. Thus, we attended a lot of what were called package shows, with a headliner and two opening acts.

On one of those shows the opening act was a southern gospel quartet called The Plainsmen. We'd, of course, never heard of them. Living in the Upper Midwest, we hadn't heard any southern gospel. They were great! High energy; a perfect blend of lead, tenor, baritone, and bass, with songs like Have a Little Talk With Jesus and other gospel tunes we might have heard one time in our lives (we were barely churchgoers, much less attendees of any service with this kind of music). 

The Oak Ridge Boys, too, began as a gospel group. And they just might have been "secular gospel" throughout their careers. They tended toward tracks with that same kind of vibe, from Elvira to Love Song. Yes, they had "smoother" hits, too, but it was that gospel arrangement that shot them to fifty years of fame. Was there ever a time when The Oak Ridge Boys didn't exist in our consciousness?

Like most every long-time country fan, I, too, saw The Oaks in person. It was right around the height of their Elvira/Bobbie Sue fame, and I saw them from a seat at a State Fair grandstand, from which they were quite tiny, but the sound was still huge. Seeing them had been on my bucket list for a while, so I grabbed my chance. My kids were little, but they went, too, along with my parents.

I think the first Oaks album I ever bought turned out to be, accidentally, a gospel album. The LP's name, simply "The Oak Ridge Boys", didn't give it away as such. It wasn't that I had anything against gospel, of course, but I'd meant to buy one of their country albums. That album was good! It had country tracks that could be construed as "sort of" gospel, like The Baptism of Jesse Taylor and Why Me, as well as Loves Me Like a Rock. 

Two Oaks hits from 1977 cemented my fandom:

 

Here is a Rodney Crowell song:

In case you don't know, Joe Bonsall was the tenor of the group. He's featured on this one:

 

Love Song demonstrates the call and response I referenced in the group's gospel style. The Oaks excelled at it. 

The thing about The Oak Ridge Boys was that while a few of their tracks did highlight one singer's vocals, that wasn't the norm. They were a group in the purest sense of the word. Yes, I talk about them in past tense, because the group will be no more. The remaining members are in bad health, and with Joe Bonsall's passing, there will be no replacing him (if that was even possible). There was a brief period when William Lee Golden left, that a replacement was found. It turned out to be a sad chapter. And in recent years, fill-ins have stepped in from time to time. It's sad to ponder that those years are gone, but they aren't really. We still have their music and we have the videos. 

I'm glad I made their musical acquaintance. 

RIP, Joe.

 

How To Not Make Waves

A writer for The Federalist got in hot water recently for pointing out that Dolly Parton is non-committal when it comes to social issues. Because, you know, everyone loves Dolly and thus she has no faults. One of the "perks" of getting old is the freedom to speak one's mind, and no bones about it, at age 78, Dolly Parton is old. But the fact is, Parton has never expressed an opinion on anything. That's her modus operandi. One could ask her if she prefers okra or collard greens and she'd say, well, I don't want to make a judgement on that. Is that why she's so beloved? Because she's an empty vessel (or pretends to be)? 

I'm old enough to have witnessed Dolly Parton's rise. I watched her on The Porter Wagoner Show in the sixties when she was the new "girl singer", replacing Norma Jean. She was tiny with a big blonde beehive and other big things, and she was definitely bubbly. And she complemented Wagoner's voice, which is one of her talents ~ she can complement nearly anyone's voice, from Kenny Rogers to The Trio to whomever she's singing with. Porter would let her sing one of her own songs solo each week and they were "good", in that they had an original point of view. Up to that time most female country singers, except Loretta Lynn, of course, recorded songs written by men. Truthfully, though, when she began recording her own albums, most of the songs weren't great. Except for her first couple of releases, she leaned toward sort of folk, with tracks like "Joshua" and the dreaded "Jolene". And she foisted the awful "I Will Always Love You" on the world. I bought her albums and really wanted to like them, but aside from her duet LP's with Porter, which I adored, Dolly was never really my cup of tea.

Then suddenly she went Hollywood and became a gay icon. Fine. Don't care. She made her debut in Nine To Five, which was a cute, funny movie, although actually Jane Fonda's character was the best (and I'm no Fonda fan). It was really the late Dabney Coleman who made that film, but Dolly's performance was "fine", albeit a bit amateurish. She was in all the tabloids, attended all the parties, posed for the cover of Playboy. She may have no opinions, but she's always had plenty of ambition. And naturally she strayed farther and farther from country. "Islands In The Stream" is a Barry Gibbs pop song, but again, her duet partner, Rogers, was a pop singer. 

Maybe it was longevity that turned her into a "legend", but now even people who've never listened to one of her records considers her the queen. One would think after all these accolades that she wouldn't be afraid to speak out about...something. Doesn't she have enough millions by now? (Yes, I know she's a very charitable person. That's not what this post is about.)

I, for one, think she would be admired more, and actually listened to, if she didn't always deflect. At age 78, it's okay to say something.  

 

Why Is Everyone So Depressed?

I enjoy browsing Reddit, particularly a few forums I've joined, but when logging onto the site, one is presented with a variety of topics, and many contain posts from Gen Z'ers asking a variation of "Who else is depressed?" or "How do you handle your depression?" I generally skip past those posts because I hate self-pity. Then I realized that depression has even invaded the music market.

Years ago when we were plugging our music I joined a few licensing sites. The only one that ever offered a return was AudioSparx, which isn't even listed among the top sites anymore. A few times a year we'd get a check for twenty or so dollars from them because they'd included a few of our tracks on their compilation CD's (although who was buying those CD's is a mystery to me). I'd forgotten that I'd joined Broadjam. It had to be a long time ago, because only our early songs existed on the site. But every once in a while I'll get an email from them offering a free submission credit. I generally take advantage of it because free, after all, is free. With our newer (better) tracks uploaded, I figure there must be one or two licensing opportunities we would fit. Not particularly.

There are a lot of calls for "melancholy". If this is what people are listening to, no wonder they're depressed! I don't do melancholy, and on the rare occasions something depressed me, the last thing I felt like doing was writing a song. Lie down and pull the covers over my heard, sure. Maybe kids need to steer clear of depressing music and everything else in their environment that encourages them to wallow. When, in what decade, was life ever easy? I must have missed it. But at least I could always count on music to lift my mood, and yes, as I've written before, even sad country songs can make one feel happy in a way. A pouring out of emotion is cathartic. "Hey, at least I don't have it as bad that singer does!"

I admit that my musical knowledge is antiquated. Apparently that's not necessarily a bad thing.

Oh, The Controversy

Granted, Beyonce's rendition of Jolene is awful, but people seem to forget that Dolly Parton's original is no gem, either. I hated the track when it was released in 1973; thus, it was played constantly on radio. All the worst ones are. Don't get me wrong; the original lyrics are fine, but that melody! Not only banal, but depressing. (Don't tell me, well, it's a depressing message. A good song isn't just lyrics. That would be a poem.) Dolly is a decent enough songwriter, but melody is not her strong suit (see: Coat of Many Colors; To Daddy)

I've seen a lot of commentary this week about Beyonce's version. She took the only adequate component of the song, the lyrics, and changed them completely! And need I say that those changes reek? A commentator I admire said it best. "Now the song doesn't mean anything." I agree that it presents no message other than, "I'm gonna whup your ass". Okie-dokie. And really, no one can convey that message quite like Toby Keith. It's not even a contest.

I suppose what annoys me about the commentary, though it really shouldn't, is that these people are suddenly country music experts. I don't doubt that they've heard the original version of Jolene. It's probably the only country song they've ever heard, yet each of them is quick to pronounce their "fondness" for country music. "I like Brad Paisley," said one. I'm surprised no one said, "I shore could use me some of that Hank Williams." It's okay, guys; everyone is not required to like it. 

I freely admit that I'm not a fan of current R&B, or whatever it is that Beyonce does. I'm also not a fan of her voice. It seems to me that she used to at least stretch her vocal cords a bit, but on this album she's singing in a dreary alto.

And why is there any debate over whether Cowboy Carter is a country album? The answer is: It is not a country album. Plain and simple. It's not. There can't possibly be any argument over that. And by the way, why is it so important for her fans to try to label it one? Big George Strait fans or something? Honestly.

What's almost worse are the songwriters/original artists who've praised her cover versions. Sincerity seems lost nowadays. Dolly and Paul McCartney certainly have good musical taste. They can't possibly think these lifeless dirges are "awesome". Was she really tired when she recorded them?

I suppose, like Taylor Swift, Beyonce is a pop culture star; mediocre but with a ton of flash. Flash is what matters. Beyonce's new album has zero impact on my life, so people can call it whatever makes them happy.