The sure cure for lame Christmas songs

99% of radio stations play the same handful of Christmas songs, over and over and over again. Tired of hearing Mariah Carey? Aren’t we all.

Last year I wrote a post about my favorite holiday tunes, i.e. songs that don’t suck. Here’s a nice article from American Songwriter about one of them, “Father Christmas” by The Kinks. It includes a funny story about how the song was such a crowd-pleaser in concert that the band The Kinks were opening for back in ’77 tried to keep them from doing it because Ray Davies dressed as Santa and rocking the rafters was a tough act to follow.

 

R.I.P. Allen Toussaint

Allen Toussaint passed away earlier this month. This article is a fine tribute.

I had the distinct pleasure of meeting Mr. Toussaint back in 1993, when I was working at a radio station and got to be the on-stage host for the Cincinnati stop of an “In Their Own Words” songwriters tour featuring 4 performers doing acoustic tunes and answering questions about their craft. Allen was part of a quartet that also included Guy Clark, Joe Ely and Michelle Shocked. He was the epitome of grace, class, humility and charm.

Most of his work was behind the scenes – writing songs for other performers, playing sessions, producing other artists – so he doesn’t get nearly the  credit he deserves. (He was even covered by Devo!) The article referenced above says, “he was arguably the greatest songwriter/producer to ever come out of New Orleans.” To me, there’s no argument – Allen Toussaint reigns supreme.

 

Music to my ears

My daughter Leah and my son Peter attend a Walnut Hills High School, which is typically ranked as one of the top public high schools in the country. If you start there in 7th grade (which Peter did and Leah is doing now), you have to take three years of Latin. (Ah, the romance of the original Romance language!)

Students also have to take at least one semester of music class… which went over like a pregnant pole vaulter at our house. Leah had never had a single music lesson in her life prior to choosing her musical weapon of trumpet. Practice isn’t always pretty… in fact sometimes it sounds like an elephant is being tortured:

But it’s a prime example of “practice makes perfect.” They may not put in the 10,000 hours required to reach Malcolm Gladwell’s “mastery” but they certainly become quite proficient by the end-of-semester concert. And the kicker is they wind up liking it. After completing his mandatory class, Peter wound up signing up for another semester of music of his own volition. So no matter how practice sounds to other folks, it’s music to my ears.

It’s like ol’ Bill Shakespeare said “If music be the food of love, play on”

Pedestrian at best

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There are a couple of different ways to use the word “pedestrian.”

pedestrian

So, is this sign about a detour for walkers, or is it about a boring detour… or both?

Either way, it’s a great excuse to play a Courtney Barnett song.

 

You can’t beat a live Pony

This weekend I went to see the same band two nights in a row. I’d never done that before, but for this particular band the concerts were a decade in the making… and well worth the wait.

I went to the Woodward Theater to see the Ass Ponys, a Cincinnati band that formed in the late 80s and had a brief brush with national fame in the post-Nirvana wave when major labels started paying much more attention to indie rock artists. They went on hiatus in 2005 and this past weekend marked their first full-length shows since then.

AssPonys

Probably the most apt adjective that can be used to describe the Ass Ponys is “eccentric.” They were a classic Donnie & Marie band: a little bit country, a little bit rock ‘n roll. Their lead singer, Chuck Cleaver (yes, his real name), looks like a refugee from a biker bar in the bad part of town, but often sings in a sweet falsetto. And their songs were unique, to say the least. They exposed and even celebrated the weirdos, the freaks, the outcasts, the underbelly of society. In other words, my kind of people. What other band can boast of songs about bed wetters, the morbidly obese, craft-crazy grandmas, wall-eyed girls, $25 death cars, people with polythelia and parrot-hating, pickled-egg eaters who die of indigestion?

And the songs weren’t novelty songs, they were damn good. 10 years later, they still sounded damn good.

In a better world, Ass Ponys would never have broken up. But when your band name is Ass Ponys and the first single off your major label debut is “Little Bastard” you’ve really limited your chances for broad appeal. Chuck Cleaver is now in the band Wussy, so obviously he doesn’t put his band names through focus groups. But the bottom line is both Ass Ponys and Wussy are brilliant.

Here’s a sampling of their catalog, in chronological order. Their entire recorded output is well worth repeated listens.