10,137 Days Until Retirement

Sitting at home, on the computer, awaiting a work call. So: I'm on the clock. Work sucks (I know), but hey, at least I'm working from home.

I'm not at home every day. Until recently, I was WFH six days a month. Then they changed it to three days a week. Though my social schedule took a bit of a hit now that I only have two days per week to stretch a half-hour lunch into an hour with Center City friends, I still appreciate the home/work balance. I don't think I'm alone in feeling this. Taking the train every day fucking sucks. Getting home 90 minutes after my shift is over fucking sucks. But logging out and walking upstairs and hanging with my girls 30 seconds after I shut down the work computer for the night? That feels great. All of what I'm saying is pretty cliché at this point, but it's worth sitting back and appreciating it every once in a while. Life is easier when you're working from home, and I'm grateful that I get to do it 60% of the time.

There is a vicious rumor going around my workplace, and around other workplaces connected to mine. The rumor goes like this: my boss's boss's boss's boss's boss's boss's boss's future boss has plans to get rid of the hybrid working system, and go back to in-office full-time. The reasoning is something like "well she feels like if everyone was back at the office, the businesses around the office would make more money, thus creating a healthier city" and so on and so on. Capitalism, basically. The worker's lifestyle is impacted in negative ways in order to praise the almighty dollar.

The general consensus is that there is "nothing we can do about it." Unfortunately, I tend to agree with that. Note how many "boss's" I had to include in the previous paragraph; I'm a tiny insignificant speck on the boil on the mayor's ass, and there is nothing I could do. There's nothing I should do, either. The thing I've learned about working in government is that speaking up just makes things worse. It's a hierarchy, you see. There are bosses above me, and bosses above them. Picture us like a ladder of pigeons. And every time I open my mouth, the only thing that happens is I get pigeon shit in my mouth.

That's okay. I think that, generally, the work I do is worthy, and I take the shit because I believe that it has positive effects on my city (in non-capitalistic ways), and also on my family (in a necessarily capitalistic way—I'm talking about my paycheck). I plan on keeping my mouth shut and letting the union-backed momentum take me to higher perches on the ladder, where I will be paid more and hopefully limit the amount of pigeon shit I'm dropping in other people's mouths.

I have visions, though. Dreams of defending my hybrid WFH lifestyle. Opening my mouth and sticking it to the man, somehow. One idea that keeps getting stuck in my craw is, like, a petition. No, a boycott. Say that all of my peers in this government system got together, all kinds of workers from every department, and we signed something in ink, making a commitment that if WFH was taken away from us and we were forced to return to the cubicles full time, that none of us would ever, and I mean never, spend money at any business in the general vicinity ever again. The message being that bringing us back full time would actually be detrimental, financially speaking, to the business that she is allegedly so hell-bent on "saving." And, of course, if we were able to remain WFH two days a week, those two days would be a spending spree at lunchtime, caviar and champagne from any business willing to hawk it, even at exorbitant prices. So you have a choice, Mrs. Mayor. Let us see our families at reasonable hours or watch as your city crumbles under the fist of the workers' collective resolve and might.

Just a pipe dream, though. I know that putting myself out there, getting marked as a "nuisance," will come back and bite me in exponentially harsh ways over the next 28 years of my working life. WFH is also not worth it if those seven and a half hours at home are a living nightmare, and there are plenty of ways in which those nightmares could be sent all the way down the chain onto my desk. Plus, let's not overestimate the "resolve and might" of a bunch of office drones who wouldn't be able to give up their precious Bubby's bacon-egg-and-cheese sandwiches for anything, even a chance at a better life.

Let's just hope for the best: that I can continue to blog from the comforts of my cold basement, instead of the stuffy office cubicle. Let's hope for the best, but expect the worst.

2023 in Review: New Music (to Me)

I finally figured out how to do one of these, even though it kinda spoils the results of the Top Ten below

I've been doing a version of this short list every year since I can remember, but this year it feels particularly inessential. Used to be that I would just list every single album that I heard for the first time that year, split them between new albums (came out that year) and old albums (came out prior to that year), then just drop a Top Five or Top Ten for those old albums.

But these days, I'm filtering out all the older albums I heard via Record Club (they'll be ranked tomorrow) and all the older albums I heard via A Year of Blind Spots (they were ranked yesterday). Plus, I'm already writing a bit about older album throughout the course of the year via Song of the ___ and the "Something Old" sections of SO/SN/SB/SB. And then plus again, I received a lot of great recommendations for album through the Summer Song Challenge, which means that if I fall in love with one of those albums, then something has already been written about it on the blog by someone who isn't me. So at a certain point, it's like, why even do this?

The main answer is because it gives me something to write about in between Christmas and New Year's Day. The secondary reason is that listening to music and ranking music and writing about music brings me joy, and so I'm going to take those opportunities as often as I can. The tertiary reason is it helps me put a period on the sentence of a great year, and aids in a constant search for closure (all the while acknowledging that there is no real "closure" when it comes to a life of music listening).

So here's a quick Top Ten for you. I probably wrote about a lot of this already, or else other people have when they publicly made me aware of it on the blog last summer. If you're interested in reading more, then hit that search bar at the top left of your screen. Otherwise, I'm mainly just idling away the hours by making sure you are aware of some good music, just in case you were not previously aware.

Top Ten Non-2023 Albums That Were New to Me in 2023

10. The Good Earth by the Feelies

I'm told—by the album's title, by write-ups from the archives—that the Feelies' sophomore album is "more organic" and "more down-to-earth" than their debut. I don't know if I'm knowledgeable enough about how music works to be able to explain why that is true, but I listen to it, and can definitely feel that truth. It's a nice change of pace from the formula laid down by Crazy Rhythms. I don't know why, and I don't care that I don't know why.

9. Life on the Line by Eddie and the Hot Rods

When I'm bored, I'll scroll through websites like RateYourMusic, looking for albums that might be worth my time (I will often do this while listening to music). Apparently this is the fourth-best pub rock album of all time? I had never heard of Eddie and the Hot Rods, and I had never heard of "pub rock" (thanks also to Nick Lowe), but yeah, sure, this is the fourth-best of something alright. I like it.

8. Diesel and Dust by Midnight Oil

Shoutout to Fisher for landing two albums on this list inspired by Summer Song Challenge picks. When the man was on, he was lights out. I had been familiar with Midnight Oil, but only a random album with a random song I heard on XPN like eight years ago. Diesel and Dust helped the reality of the situation sink in: the Aussies knew how to rock in the '80s.

7. Decipher by Gina Kaz

I guess there's a possibility that I'm overrating this album due to the wild circumstances under which it came to my attention (local children's musician has a secret piano rock album from two decades ago). At a certain point, I stop caring about overrating or underrating or whatever, and just enjoy the show that's performed for me. More Gina Kaz in 2024, please! It's been promised!

6. Original Pirate Material by the Streets

I barely know anything about American hip hop, let alone U.K. hip hop, but when I hear the latter phrase, I imagine exactly what the Streets presented to us here: basically some white dude doing the British version of slam poetry in a barely decipherable accent, and sounding like he's having the best time ever. Weird, but good weird.

5. Harmlessness by the World Is a Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid to Die

"We set out to make up / All the mistakes of our parents and their friends." I don't want my kids to be able to claim this while getting into tWIaBP&IANLAtD. I am correcting past mistakes. I can see how huge this thing is now, and how essential.

4. Cosmic Thing by the B-52s

See, the Song Challenge was a beautiful fucking thing, because it was able to recontextualize so much music that I had previously mistaken as something less than. You hear "Love Shack" at enough First Holy Communion parties at the Rockledge Fire Hall and you start to think that it sucks. Your friend posts it on your blog and you're hit with the sudden realization that, holy shit, no, this is actually still a great song. And then you follow the bread crumbs and realize that this hit song is only the tip of the iceberg, and that there's a deep hole of new-wave perfection underneath.

3. Nite Flights by the Walker Brothers

Ditto what I said about the B-52s, except exchange "Rockledge Fire Hall" for "iconic music documentary." 30 Century Man did not convince me to listen to Scott Walker. It probably did the opposite. You're told for two hours that Scott Walker is a weirdo, and you start to believe it. Then five years later your told that this weirdo music is actually enjoyable, and you're given a song to prove it. And you realize that you completely misinterpreted what the documentary was trying to say. Weird is good. Sometimes, weird is fucking genius.

2. The Power and the Glory by Gentle Giant

But then the really funny thing about Song Challenge was that it didn't even take a sincere recommendation for me to find some great music. Not every prompt requires you to embed the best song ever. Some of them are asking for some specific function, even if that function is not necessarily "be a good song." So claimed Sam when he said that this Gentle Giant song fulfilled the weird time signature requirement "even though it sucked." That's the joke, and we didn't even know it at the time. It didn't suck. Gentle Giant is fucking amazing. The densest, dorkiest prog rock I've ever heard, and I'll never stop listening to it. You can't tell me what to do!!!!!

1. The Evil One by Roky Erikson and the Aliens

I still don't really know if this album is serious or not. If you took a gander at some of the subject matter (monsters, demon, extraterrestrials, and so on), you might guess that it's supposed to be silly, as if no one could possible sing about shit this deranged. At the same time, consider the fact that Roky Erickson had a legitimate mental health diagnosis of schizophrenia, and there's no doubt in my mind that when he sang about evil three-headed dogs, he was singing the truth as he saw it. The one thing that separates The Evil One from the rantings of a homeless person on the corner is that this also happens to be some of the gnarliest, most badass, hard-psych-punk rock you're ever likely to hear. I'm not the type of person who's ever going to believe in conspiracy theories involving Satan, but The Evil One gets me closer than I'll ever be for the rest of my life.


And a List of Non-2023 Songs That I Loved in 2023

• "The Decline" by NOFX
• "Goodbye Earl" by the Chicks
• "Hello? Goodbye!" by Lake Street Dive
• "I Can't Run" by In Endeavors
• "If You Can Smile" by Gothic Horizon
• "It Must Really Suck to Be Four Year Strong Right Now" by Four Year Strong
• "Manthem" by the Bouncing Souls
• "My Brain Is Hanging Upside Down (Bonzo Goes to Bitburg)" by Ramones
  
• "Okkervil River Song" by Okkervil River
• "Rumble Pack" by Royal Coke
• "Shake It Off" by A Golden Era

Based on how this year went, and based on the fact that we have our Yearlong Song Challenge starting in four days, I'd guess that the "Best Non-2024 Music" list next year is going to be completely swallowed by Song Challenge recommendations as well. Not a bad thing.

A Year of Blind Spots: A Complete 2023 Ranking

A few things to remember, before we kill some time on one of those weekdays between Christmas and New Year's, as we remember the blog column A Year of Blind Spots as it existed in 2023.

First, this is probably the only column on PoYB in which the experience of listening to music takes priority, and the writing is in full service of that act, not the other way around. I sincerely enjoy exploring older "classic" albums, and I refuse to let blogging get in the way of that exploration. I feel like sometimes, say with the film in the Never Seen It series, the joy I get from watching a movie is diminished ever so slightly due to the fact that I'm obligated to write about it in some significant way. I don't want that to be the case with my musical Blind Spots. I'm just over here enjoying some music, that's all. I'll type up some words, but it ain't that deep (note, for example, that none of my aYoBS entries made it onto Monday's "best writings of the year" list).

Second, because I'm just hanging out and enjoying some music, and focusing on learning about them and not necessarily considering them in any sort of critical or comparative way, the act of "ranking" this year's 50 albums seems like a fool's errand, and way more arbitrary than the other rankings that I usually concoct each December. Still, I figured it might still be fun to figure out what ends up being the best Blind Spot I listened to this year. I just don't want you to think that, like, the #47 album isn't worth your time. I believe all these albums are cool in their own way, and worth exploring, if you're the type of person who is going to get preoccupied sometimes with what others consider "the canon."

Third, since this list isn't designed to be time-consuming, I'm not going to link back to any of the write-ups devoted to any of these albums over the course of 2023. But they are all compiled HERE, and you can refer to the main landing page if you're curious as to why certain albums ranked higher than others, or whatever.

Anyways, here ya go:

50. John Barleycorn Must Die by Traffic
49. If You Can Believe Your Eyes and Ears by the Mamas and the Papas
48. Tres Hombres by ZZ Top
47. CrazySexyCool by TLC
46. Night Beat by Sam Cooke
45. Bitches Brew by Miles Davis
44. Moving Pictures by Rush
43. Whitney by Whitney Houston
42. Rockin' the Suburbs by Ben Folds
41. White Pony by Deftones
40. Get Rich or Die Tryin' by 50 Cent
39. Kill for Love by Chromatics
38. Slippery When Wet by Bon Jovi
37. Baduizm by Erykah Badu
36. It's Dark and Hell Is Hot by DMX
35. All Eyez on Me by 2Pac
34. Tha Carter III by Lil Wayne
33. Mezzanine by Massive Attack
32. Dusty in Memphis by Dusty Springfield
31. Ready to Die by the Notorious B.I.G.
30. Minor Threat EP by Minor Threat
29. Moanin' in the Moonlight by Howlin' Wolf
28. Like a Prayer by Madonna
27. In Search Of... by N.E.R.D
26. Goin' Off by Biz Markie
25. Pastel Blues by Nina Simone
24. Daydream by Mariah Carey
23. Untrue by Burial
22. Rio by Duran Duran
21. Reckless by Bryan Adams
20. The Chronic by Dr. Dre
19. Walk Among Us by Misfits
18. Hard Core by Lil' Kim
17. The Score by Fugees
16. Silk Degrees by Boz Scaggs
15. Word of Mouf by Ludacris
14. Power, Corruption & Lies by New Order
13. Paid in Full by Eric B. & Rakim
12. Indigo Girls by Indigo Girls
11. Dummy by Portishead
10. The Blueprint by Jay-Z
9. Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables by Dead Kennedys
8. Trans-Europe Express by Kraftwerk
7. Jesus of Cool by Nick Lowe
6. Illmatic by Nas
5. In My Tribe by 10,000 Maniacs
4. Zen Arcade by Hüsker Dü
3. Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) by Wu-Tang Clan
2. Los Angeles by X
1. The Low End Theory by A Tribe Called Quest

Looking at the slate for 2024 (yes, I already have all 50 albums lined up... I have 2025 ready too...), it looks like I'm loosening the pedal on hip hop music slightly. Let's say 50% of the number of albums that we covered this year. But the trade-off is that I plan on listening to a lot more rap outside of this column, especially now that many of the critically acclaimed artists are no longer Blind Spots to me. I have a whole separate list for rap albums I'm interested in, but that's more than like going to be just for me (unless any of the music shows up in, say, Yearlong Song Challenge).

Otherwise, next year's another 50 albums from another 50 artists who don't have much of a presence on my iPod as of yet. Looking forward to beginning next week with John Coltrane. See you then.

Explorers Are Frequently Lost: A Well-Drawn-Up Play

 written by Sam

Maggie and La Salle at Christmas.

 

PHILADELPHIA—Parenting can be like running a collegiate basketball team. You manage children with irrational desires who bounce off each other in unexpected ways, and any plan you cobble together to replicate the semblance of order nearly always goes awry.

But other times, the players (and children) execute exactly as you drew it up, and you can sit with that for a second.

Such was La Salle's 107-41 thumping of the lowly (I can't bring myself to say hated) Rosemont College Ravens (2-9) Dec. 21. Just like Fran Dunphy plotted a cupcake pre-holiday drubbing to instill confidence in every single member of the Explorers (9-3) leading into conference play, I played the afternoon of childcare tic-tac-toe perfectly.

Not until I had children did I realize the numerable and seemingly unending breaks, in-services, holidays, sick days, parent-teacher conferences, and random bullshit off days that suffocate your calendar and cripple your life. From Dec. 16 to Jan. 1, my children will not attend school due to enforced worship of the christ child that our secular society (and Q4 revenue projectors) demand. That's 17 days of programing to fill. 

So when I noticed that La Salle had scheduled a 2:30 p.m. Thursday contest against a Division III team (I mistakenly said D-II in last week's column), I smiled at the gift provided and dragged Maggie to 20th and Olney.

My five-year-old daughter had already attended two games this season, and the luster had worn off a little. She's fine to hang out, so long as we ply her with soft pretzels and yield to judgment-free iPad time. For this solo trip with dad, I needed to up the stakes. 

Ambitiously, I envisioned taking her to campus early and regaling her of my halcyon days. Yes, outside Olney Hall in the bushes is where Uncle Kory peed before an improv show. Of course, that's the Intermission's Karaoke stage where my PoYB editor was restrained. Also, I wouldn't sit on that Collegian couch, that's where your mother and I... hey look, a Fran Dunphy photo! Maybe, just maybe, my daughter could appreciate something so meaningful to me, and I could kill some time before tip off. 

Unfortunately, La Salle missed my memo on the glory days, as pretty much the entire campus was locked up. No classes meant not even the Student Union was open; no drinking 40s in the cats this time around.

However, a recent redesign to the Quad resulted in some fun trampoline hammock things she could play with; there was tons of Christmas decorations, and Maggie was dazzled by the huge tree; and the bookstore was open, so La Salle got a bit more from my wallet.

More importantly, Maggie actually enjoyed herself. I think she appreciated the one-on-one time with dad, and even noted with approval that I must be skipping work to hang with her (sorry, taxpayers!). La Salle at Christmas can be a nice place, and the campus impressed her at least.

Then, she reciprocated with the ultimate gift—she watched the basketball game. Minimal iPad, though a sickening amount of Skittles were expended to earn her interest in an old-fashion assbeating. More of a glorified scrimmage than a game, but a win's a win!

As Nate described it to me, it was a shameful affair. La Salle opened the game on 13-0 heater, pushed the lead to 22-3, and finished the half up 56-21. The Ravens had no answer for the unstoppable force known as Rokas Jocius, as the lug finished with 15 points on 7-9 shooting and 6 rebounds, 3 blocks, and 2 steals. His height finally worked to his advantage, as it looked like he was placing ice cubes in a cup against the diminutive Rosemont defenders.

Coach Dunphy emptied his bench in the first half, and all 13 Explorers who saw action scored. The team whooped it up when Serbian freshman Milos Kovacevic registered his first collegiate point from the free-throw line, and lost their shit when Turkish freshman Efe Tahmaz drained a three-pointer. I don't know if the Explorers' Eastern Block bench will become household names, but for one afternoon, they all found joy in Olney.

Maggie was impressed by Daeshon Shephherd's sick slams, and got out of her seat to clap when Jhamir Brickus effortlessly drained a couple of threes. She was even a little sad when we had to leave early (gotta get to the lights at the Elmwood Park Zoo!).

The afternoon was a success for me as a dad, and Coach Dunphy as a leader of men. Only the reluctant Ravens were harmed, but fuck them, they signed up for the shellacking.

...

Up next, the Explos host Howard (4-9) Dec. 30 at 2 PM in the team's final tune-up before the Atlantic 10 Conference schedule starts in 2024. I'll be skiing in Vermont, so we'll see what I can muster for next week.

"Explorers Are Frequently Lost" strives to be a weekly column about the La Salle's Men's Basketball Team, but I hope is about other stuff, too. 

The Quad remade with hip Adirondack chairs.

Skittles made the blow-out verses Rosemont palatable.

Merry Christmas, We're Closed (You Should Know This by Now)

If you find yourself on Puke on Your Birthday on Christmas Day, then you should pretend that you are the pregnant virgin Mary and I am the callous innkeeper: no room here, go meet your birthing blogging needs somewhere else. We are closed.

I blog every day, even Christmas! Writing this in advance, of course, but still. Here is a new blog post, on December 25th. For the past couple years, I've used this space to drop the veil of humility and round up some of what I perceive to be the best blog posts I wrote this year. I'm doing this under the assumption that no one is reading this anyway. If you ARE reading this, then here is the truth: I'm a shit blogger whose blog posts are fucking worthless dreck and should be avoided at all cost.

Another perennial caveat: the best blog posts this year were written by bloggers not named Joe. I spend a decent amount of time advertising those blog posts, though. I value them and I make my evaluation known in various emails and through word-of-mouth. I love my friends and fucking adore what they write, but it's my opinion that I don't need this Christmas space to talk about it. I already do. If you are one of our star writers and you honestly feel like I don't make my love of your work publicly known to a sufficient degree, then let's talk tomorrow (or wait until the new year, when I double down in the Sunday emails and start linking to non-Record Club content).

For today, and just today, here are some blog posts that I wrote. It was actually pretty tough to comb through 1800 blog posts from 2023. Good work, everybody! We killed it!

Some Decent Blogging from 2023

• First, a few RC reviews (or, occasionally, "reviews") that stand out, here at the end of the year. I enjoyed writing the Sam Smith review, and thought that it was one of the better examples of the "fake transcript" bit that I pull out of the drawer every once in a while.
• The Burna Boy review was something I felt proud of at the time, but also might feel less and less integral the further I move away from my grad school experience.
• I made myself laugh a lot with the JVKE review. No idea if anyone else was laughing. On most days, I don't care.
• The Max Roach review is one I cherish, both for what it was in the moment and for what it has come to represent. I believe that it is a faithful tribute to both BoJack Horseman (specifically, the episode in which BoJack gives a voiceover narration about how much he hates himself) and Infinite Jest (specifically in the way that it is a review that speaks about another review, without actually letting you see that other review). It was also written at the tail end of and at a nadir of a long relationship with alcohol, and, though sincerely a tribute to entertainment that I love, was also pretty honest, in terms of how I was feeling about myself, at the time.
• Some decent writing about sobriety this year, since that was a "thing" that existed for me in 2023. There was the buried reveal underneath the 100 Sparks. There was also the "five guidelines" that I still try to follow, nine months later.
• As far as the Thirsty Thursday column is concerned, I am fond of the one where I compare myself to a dog (the self-hate is palpable, but also weirdly helpful in this case), the one where I discussed the previous sober streak (letting go of emotional baggage, basically), and the one where I talk about the old drinking games (goodbyes can be celebrations too).
• Song of the ___ got the short shrift this year, due to the Summer Song Challenge (which will be covered later in this blog post). But I enjoyed writing the one for "Chet Baker" (felt like the comparison to blink-182 was the closest I got to emulating my new favorite writer, Nike Stratis). And I enjoyed the one about Matchbox Twenty (feels good to not love everything, ya know?).
  
• A few random-ass blog posts that I was kinda proud of this year. First, my top five Bluey episodes. It's relaxing to write about kids' entertainment, especially quality shit like this.
• There was the crossword puzzle that was a good idea in theory, and fun to put together, but I doubt anyone had much use for it after I hit "publish."
• The Boy in the Box felt like a worthy do-over, especially with the recent crack in the case. It also afforded me an opportunity to reflect on what exactly I'm trying to do here, on the blog.
• The one where I gave tips for calling 911 might end up being useful, I guess. Assuming that you ever call 911 within the boundaries of Philadelphia County.
• The defense of How I Met Your Mother had been percolating for a long time. Felt good to finally get that shit on the page. Fuck you if you think that that show had a bad series finale.
• This has less to do with blogging and more to do with extracurriculars outside of blogging—I miss Infinite Jest book club, and no amount of wrapping it up via blogging will help me ease the pain.
• I challenged myself to meet the arbitrary and hypothetical dare presented in a random tweet I saw. 4000 words spread out over two blog posts about the time I shit my pants.
• My final semester of school (ever) caused some indigestion, as presented in wokeness and brokeness.
• The Friends of the Blog Part II thing was an exercise in VERY BAD writing, so I don't know if it necessary fits here. But I will continue to refer back to this blog post over the coming years, as AI continues to threaten this blog's very existence and all those like it.
• A couple Never Seen It posts stand out to me as "interesting writing" (as opposed to "competent writing"). The one for The Philadelphia Story was fun to write, since it's easy to write about things I know (friends) when I'm writing about things I don't know (film). And the one for On the Waterfront was probably the only time all year I felt really captured the spirit of blogging as I see it, as opposed to just writing about a film on an arbitrary blog.
• The Burholme Tapes column has been fun to write. The one I felt maybe touched on something poignant was the "My Own Worst Enemy" post. If one of the purposes of writing this column is to begin to say goodbye to some old memories, then this one nailed it.
• The Beatles column has been fun too, though occasionally draining. I don't revisit those posts too often, I'm finding, which explains how I ended up accidentally writing the same blog post for two different songs ("She Loves You" and "I Want to Hold Your Hand") without even fucking realizing it.
• That being said, the timing on the "Free as a Bird" post was just so goddamn lucky and fun.
• Most of my favorite writing came from Summer Song Challenge. I was proud of a lot of it, but I'm trying to keep this blog post at a reasonable length, so let's group some of them together. As far as "this feels creative" goes, we have "Siberian Breaks" (run-on sentences are really fun), "Young Americans" (I felt in the pocket for this one, like I could do no wrong, even without a plan), and "Up Song" (always a fun challenge, to write in the style of others).
• Felt good to tell some minor stories from my life through this format. There was the obelisk of the water tower at Burholme ("Constructive Summer"), getting my ass beat at a frat party ("Big Songbirds Don't Cry"), the Swiss Cheese Pervert ("The Ultracheese"), and my favorite mix CD ("Would You Come with Me").
• There was the "Mulholland Drive" crossover with Never Seen It's Mulholland Drive, which I was proud of (your mileage and patience might vary).
• I thought about nostalgia a lot. I thought about a bunch of high school memories ("Come On! Feel the Illinoise!" being the best place to start, probably). I thought about how some of those memories are wrong and inaccessible (the shaggy dog tale of "DK Rap"). I thought about how nostalgia can curdle into something darker (regret via "The Arctic Circle"). I thought about what nostalgia might look like to other people (regret via Gina Kaz's "Dreaming"). I thought about what our responsibilities are regarding the cultivation and maintenance of nostalgia ("January 10, 2014").
• I wanted to obliquely tell the story of a dude from my theater group at college who is a registered sex offender, and so I buried it under at least three additional layers of blog constructs (his story, under the guise of a blog post about Lizzo, under the guise of a blog post in which I'm answering fan mail, under the guise of a blog post about a song about a banana).
• Felt good to write about a bad song for a good reason. Felt good to write about good songs from bad people that are played for bad reasons.
• The funeral song thing was not particularly well-written, but it was long. 14,000 words, and the second-longest blog post I've ever written. Doubt too many people read it. It exists though.
• The write-up for "Robbery, Assault and Battery" felt like the apotheosis of what I was trying to do with my SSC blog posts. That's just my opinion, though.

Merry Christmas, Pukers! See you tomorrow for our 875th day of blogging in a row. PoYB never sleeps.

Album of the Week: Famoe's 16Bars Rap-Blog

The calendar dictates that Record Club's Sunday Album of the Week write-up occurs on Christmas Eve this year, so I suspect there are not too many people reading this right now, which is totally understandable, but I am going to proceed with the sentimentality anyway.

Because we have also arrived at the final Record Club album of 2023. It was another excellent year of listening to and writing about music with you guys, and I am thankful for every minute of it. Though this marks no ending of any sort beyond a calendar page-turning, I still feel like it's the right time to look back and to be appreciative of what we did this year. In 2023, we wrote more reviews as a family than we have in any year prior. That feels good. That feels right. I love hanging out in this space with you, and I want you to know how thankful I am.

Here's another album. Keep coming back.

Record Club:

archives | supplemental

spotify playlist | youtube playlist

choose | writing | map

WEEK 256 — December 24-30, 2023

Famoe's 16Bars Rap-Blog EP

by Famoe

LISTEN:

Spotify | YouTube | Bandcamp | Apple

~~~~~~~~~~

PICKED BY JOE

FAMOE'S COMMENTS:

JOE'S COMMENTS: I thought it would be funny to feature an artist I found through Cameo. If you're not in the know (or haven't been following some of PoYB's best moments), Cameo is a service that allows you to contact celebrities, and hire those celebrities to send personalized video messages to fans' friends, loved ones, or to the fans themselves. Prices vary according to how popular the celebrity is. I filtered the musical artists from cheapest to most expensive, and found a whole host of musicians I'd never heard of charging fewer than $3 for a video.

Famoe was charging $2, and because of a Black Friday deal, I ended up paying $1.90. I didn't choose randomly. Three basic criteria: 1) that the artist looked kinda silly, or at least someone whom we could lightly poke fun at, while still having some fun in a good-natured way; 2) the artist had a short album that we could listen to during the week of Christmas without being too much of a pain in the ass; 3) that short album had a title that seemed somehow thematically appropriate.

I would argue that, at least on a superficial level, Famoe looks kinda goofy and lovable, based solely on a snap judgment (kinda looks like Nacho from Better Call Saul). I would say that an album less than five minutes in length more than satisfies the second requirement. And I considered it kismet that Famoe had an album with the word "blog" in it. So here we are.

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ALBUM DETAILS

GENRE: Hip hop

RELEASED: December 28, 2015, according to Famoe's website. Streaming services claim it was released in 2023. The fact that Famoe himself says in the Cameo video that this is something he did "a while ago" makes me believe the 2015 date. Maybe it was rereleased on streaming recently, or maybe it came to streaming for the first time this year or whatever.

LENGTH: 4:51

TRACKLIST:

1. Efreezee
   
2. Circumstances
3. The Story
4. Lost
5. Amen
   

LYRICS: Some Famoe lyrics on the internet, none from this EP

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ARTIST DETAILS

PRONOUNS: he/him/his

ABOUT: It's Christmas, so I'm just gonna copy and paste Famoe's "About Me" section on his own website.

Fabiano Montesano, better known for his stage name Famoe, is an English rapper who started his musical career with the name "Fantastical." He was born in 1987 to Italian parents, but he's currently based in Stuttgart, Germany, where he produces most of his music. He has worked with numerous recording labels during his career before deciding to launch his own record company called Rap & Rhymes Records.

Famoe's career in entertainment began in 2001 when he joined a music video clip contest by MTV Germany, where he reached the final round. He joined another talent competition shortly after, performing his own cover of a song by American hip-hop rapper and singer Nelly. Famoe considers Nelly's 2000 album Country Grammar as his inspiration to start his ventures in rap, which became instrumental in his music career.

Despite being new to the industry, Famoe decided to establish his own music label, which is what the world now knows as Rap & Rhymes Records. Through this company, he met Nino, who works with him to produce his music, including his first EP, Dancing in my Block. Nino is an experienced mixer, so his services came in handy for Famoe, as he released his first single entitled "This Life."

In 2006, Famoe finally released his first-ever studio album, which he called The Italian Stallion. The album was released with a circulation of around 1,000 compact discs, which coincided with the changing of his stage name. Famoe traveled to Boston in 2009 to work with Surefire Music Group who produced his album Xplicit. That same year, he recorded his two music videos as well, "Actin like This" and "On and On."

Famoe split with his manager in 2010, which paved the way for his collaboration on a dance production with Stephan Endemann. The finished material was entitled "To the Top," a smash hit that reached in the compilation charts a number one and was on many international compilation charts a top ten in other places. Famoe also worked with Sony Music and Universal Music and merged his Rap & Rhymes Records with Roksolid Entertainment in England in 2010.

As a sub-label for Roksolid Entertainment, Famoe founded Rap & Rhymes Records Ltd. in London after dissolving his old record company. This was an excellent decision as his career continued soaring, even reaching number one on the German music channel Yavido with "On and On." The first release under Rap & Rhymes Records Ltd. is a compilation album called Past, Present, Future, inspiring the release of his mobile app.

Famoe shares that in his success, he boldly did things differently instead of going with the flow and following others. He wanted to be that unique artist that the music industry is sorely missing these days. He always desired to do things he's passionate about, and for him, it's all about music.

Famoe wants to set his mark as the music artist who dared to be different. He continues working to improve his artistry despite having spent years in the business already. For Famoe, it's not about becoming the best musician, but it's about loving what you do.

DISCOGRAPHY: Check out the discography on his website. Some albums, mixtapes, singles, appearances on compilations, and "official soundtracks of graphic novels."

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ADDITIONAL INFO

READING SOME SHIT: Interview about his short film or documentary or something

WATCHING SOME SHIT: "Cave Session #06"

PREVIOUSLY ON RECORD CLUB: We have a new record for shortest RC album this week, with four minutes and 51 seconds absolutely crushing Pop? by Tierra Whack, listed at eight minutes and 23 seconds. Other short efforts include Ducks Ltd.'s Get Bleak EP (12:13), Caracara's Better EP (12:33), and Mountain Brews' Let It Grow EP (14:31).

I also thought it would be a fun bit to list all the Record Club alumni who are currently offering their services on Cameo, but a cursory search turned up exactly zero hits. I guess that makes sense. Most RC alumni are either 1) way too popular for Cameo, or 2) not so delusional about their own level of fame that they'd waste their time collecting the occasional $0.80 profit for making 26-second videos. Though that's probably more money netted than 100K streams on Spotify, so what the fuck do I know.

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Happy listening, RC family!
Merry Christmas!

Shelter from the Storm: Solo, Not Solo

(Puke on Your Birthday's recurring Xanga flashback exercise moves to its new day. In 2024, you'll find it here at 4:00 PM each Saturday. Please allow this brief parenthetical to act as an advanced apology as well.)

May 7, 2005, 2:37 PM

It's a Saturday afternoon, and apparently I spend Saturday afternoons eating peanut butter cookies and chilling on Xanga. While I'm here, let's give a little update for the other losers and creeps who also stalk the Xangas on Saturday afternoons instead of having any sort of social life.

Tough week, is my general feeling, now that it's over. I wasn't blindsided by anything, it was just all the normal end-of-year testing and whatnot that really pressed me flat. The storm before the calm, one might say. Summer is a light at the end of the dark tunnel of finals week month. I'm trying to imagine what it would be like to also have to study for AP tests at this time of year. To all of my peers who took that plunge a year early: good luck and godspeed. You can remind me how much it sucks next year when I find that I'm stupid enough to take a couple AP classes.

I don't know why I'm being obsessed with this Gazebo literary magazine thing. This will be the third Xanga entry in a row I mention it. It shouldn't be that big of a deal. I'm not a poet. I don't have aspirations in that regard. I guess I'm still just kinda looking for my niche at this school, and at this very specific juncture—end of sophomore year, halfway through the four-year experience—I'm feeling desperate. Not outwardly, but it lies just below the surface, and it bubbles up when I think about the possibility of maybe finding clarification on who I am and who I'm meant to be through a goddamn high school lit mag. Anyways, I talked to Ms. Anderson yesterday, just in passing. She said she thought it was, to quote, "interesting." I guess that could go either way.

The annual end-of-year jazz band concert is this coming Monday. As it stands now, I'm lined up to have my first solo (two measures of a solo—still counts!). I've spent the year in sixth period band, which is on the class schedule titled "Intermediary Band." I'm thankful for the opportunity, and I had a good time in the trenches, but I think it's time to move up. I'm a shitty drummer, don't get me wrong here. But I think I can keep time pretty okay. I have that metronome whispering in my head, and I can keep the beat most of the time. I don't want to disparage anyone who deigns to play the drums but can't keep time (as I said in the previous paragraph, we're all just looking for our extracurricular niche, ya know?), but that is the purpose of drumming, right? I'd be lying if I said that the lack of rhythm in some of my peers wasn't occasionally frustrating this year. Hoping to be in Advanced Band next year (seventh period, one step below Honors Advanced, which, no way I'm ready for), where allegedly the drums are rock steady. Tired of all the flam-tappa-diddlediddle-rammaflams that are impressive but out of step with the song itself. Oof... sorry for ranting. I am humble. I stink at drumming. But still.

Friday night report: it was okay! I started the night walking the three blocks to cousin-not-related Andrew H.'s house. I guess I should mention here that Andrew is two years younger than me, an age gap that will seem smaller as time moves forward, I'm sure, and a gap that doesn't even seem that large now due to Andrew's older-than-his-age social proclivities with substances. But still. The age gap occasionally means that I'm going to show up at his house and find a small party in his basement populated by eighth graders. Very strange for me, a big bad high schooler, to witness at this point.

I guess most of them had a 7 PM curfew(?), so me and Andrew bailed on his own party, and we met up with Cory, Joe G., and Matt S. Longtime readers will notice that these five people were the core group who formed my very first garage rock cover band (formerly known as "T.H.E." a.k.a. Three Horny Elephants, but at our demise known generically as "Community"). It feels like we hadn't hung out like this in a while. It was nice.

As Community/T.H.E. is wont to do, we set out in search of a keg, which may or may not have been happening in the first place. Rumors and near-facts lead us into the darkness of the woods in search of that magic elixir of our youth. Of course, this is Northeast Philadelphia, where the police take it personally when you invade their space (the woods, I guess?), and so eventually we had to turn around and run the other way when we saw official-looking flashlights and meaty, sweaty men in uniform pointing them in our general direction. Does it make a difference that they were probably SEPTA cops, instead of "real cops"? I don't know. Probably not. No mythical keg spot is worth such a risk.

I ended the night going my separate ways from my garage band pals, and ended up chilling in my own backyard. Cindy, Mary, and Maryrose stopped by for a bit, and we just chilled and shot the shit and jumped on the trampoline a little bit. Also, not to bury the lede, but my sister had her birthday party in that same backyard at that same time, so I ended up meeting a few St. Basil's freshmen, which was cool. This neighborhood is small, and feels smaller the more connections I make. That's a good thing.

We'll see what kind of "weekend plans" are cultivated tonight. Clock is ticking.

Before I go, here's a hypothetical for you. If you were an adult, and had a child or children, and that child or those children kept a regular diary, and you knew where they kept it, would you read it? Say that you had your suspicions that they were "up to no good," that they weren't being completely honest with you, would you snoop? Would you overstep boundaries in search of the truth? Okay, now: would you look through your children's friends' diaries? Don't the boundaries become a little stricter when it's not your own kin? Is that good parenting? This is all hypothetical. I'm not saying anyone is actually doing this, or that I'm worried or anything. I guess I'm just trying to frame this situation in a different way. "This situation," of course, being a meta reflection on the idea of Xanga-ing itself. Would you be comfortable reading your kids' friends' Xangas? I'm not a parent, I have no idea, but something about the idea seems a little icky to me, that's all I'm saying.

(As far as I know, my own parents don't know about the existence of this Xanga, but I suppose time will tell.)

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Comments

Joe_Mac89: I'm having my first and last solo on Monday. I get 8 measures.My brother knows about my xanga. I think that's all though. He doesn't read it often though. I can tell. Parental Stalking is not a good thing. If they feel they have to gather info about you behind your back, that's pretty sad. Your parents shouldn't pry into your personal life unless you're suspected of doing drugs, which we all know you don't do, and neither do I.You should still be allowed to have your own privacy once in a while.-Steven D. the Frosh!

CoCain18: hey this is my 4th solo so wat else is new! haha and about ur xanga yeah i no wat ur talkin about cause i heard the whole story and ur parents are really gay for doing that!

Shelter_fromthe_Storm: It's not MY parents doing the snooping, thank god.

Anonymous: That's kind of sick if some parent who isn't your own parent reads your xanga–like don't they have anything better to do? I can understand why a parent might want to read their kid's xanga, but that's just weird, too. I know my older sister and my brother-in-law read my xanga and my older brother's, and it's kind of weird, but I really don't care. It's really weird when they come visit us and bring up a subject that was on my xanga; it weirds me out.
I'll be sure to check out the Velvet Underground, too; got any suggestions of a good album to start with? 

sgtpepper841: i just lost my virginity to you...
no, don't read your kid.s diaries...not cool
look at my xanga to make me feel important...
can't wait to see your ramblings in Gazebo
regards,
Charlie

Anonymous: Heh makes me wonder how a kid's xanga gets found out by their parents. Then again, I'm sure other kid's parents go on the computer alot more then mine, and probaly check their site history. I'm glad mine don't, becuase I would get grounded for certain naughty websites.

The Christmas Album, Sunny

Earlier this week:

Kelsey: What are we listening to?

Sunny: Neil Diamond's Christmas album.

K: [laughter] Is this Joe K***'s thing? Well not Joe K***'s but you know.

S: Yeah, it's Record Club this week.

K: [As "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town" is playing] It's like he's taking all the old Christmas songs and just adding his own little bits.

S: That's Diamondization baby!

As a younger man, I would get Diamond and Young confused. I didn't know many Neils. Now I mostly know the former as the Sweet Caroline-r basically, having lived in Boston for even one Red Sox win. I find this funny considering he is an alleged king of adult contempo, yet that's the only song I know. But of course he has a '90s Xmas album.

It isn't my favorite RC Xmas album, but it gets the job done. Perplexing mostly is the track selection, the key factor for any Xmas album. Diamondification is great sometimes ("Santa Claus Is Coming to Town") and less great other times ("Drummer Boy"). I get the impression Neil doesn't want to be thought of just as a "Jingle Bell Rock"-er, but he might be.

P.S. holy cats, in trying to google the tracklist to this album, I've discovered Diamond has a 2022 Ultra Xmas compilation available in a limited-edition gold opaque 180-gram vinyl double album set, including many songs from this very record. Now that's Diamondorphosis for you!

The Christmas Album, Nate

Neil Diamond is a scholar whose groundbreaking work in the emerging field of "Pronouncing Words in Unique and Unexpected Ways" is visible in the opening moments of his holiday album's medley, in which he says the word "Israel" in new and provocative ways. "Holiday album" is a misnomer, really, since this is a Christmas-ass-Christmas album, with its opening Advent hymnal run and whatnot. Diamond has always had a theatrical workingman quality to his vocal performance. He's always sounded like the most flamboyant and showiest choir director in his non-holiday work so it is nice (for him, at least) that he gets to be fully himself.

It feels both reductive and accurate to say, in the interest of speed, that this is every inch a Neil Diamond Christmas album, with all the pageantry and stuffiness that it suggests. It is corny but not insincere, like a living nativity at a midnight mass. His take on "Santa Clause Is Coming to Town" is unlikely to unseat either of the canonized versions, but it does find new ground to dig into. Alternatively, his version of "Happy Xmas (War Is Over) is a level up on the Lennon version, as it lands at the earnest heart of the song's optimism without any shed of cynicism or satire. Diamond loves the sound of his own voice, and if you didn't know that coming in, you're going to know it by the end of "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen."

Ultimately, it's not as good as Whole Lotta Red, and you're all pieces of garbage if you voted for this dreck and don't review it. I am going to come to your house at night and watch you while you sleep and I will to shuffle silently into your bedroom and stand over your sleeping body and I am going to lower my face until it is inches from your own and I will breathe into your mouth and you will inhale deep the vapors of my being into your lungs and blood and you will wake the next day changed and marked but forever unsure of how or why and I will be with you like a shadow or a shade and no amount of sun will ever make you feel warm and no amount of soap will make you feel clean and no amount of rest will make you feel fully awake or present and when your children try to hug you they will feel weight but not warmth and when your lover seeks your touch they will feel something cold and wet like a mossy rock in a moving stream and when your friends call you will not hear them in a way that matters and the distance between you and everything that affixes you to this world will grow and when you die it will be your only relief and when your loved ones try to remember you they will only remember a person-shaped hole, and absence, and we will rest together in a defiled eternity where there will be only me towering above the light and only you forever in a cold shaded nothingness.

Merry Christmas!

The Christmas Album, Melissa

The Christmas Album, by Neil Diamond, is a classic from my childhood. Why it was chosen for this holiday album review I will never know. Eleven votes? For Neil? I love this so much. I screamed when Gary informed me that it had won. I then shouted at Alexa "PLAY NEIL DIAMOND THE CHRISTMAS ALBUM" and that bitch of a device did me dirty and kept playing "Sweet Caroline"! Not what I asked for, Alexa. I get it, but not what I asked for.

Things I learned:

Did we all know the line was "Bearing gifts we traverse afar" and not "travel so far" in "We Three Kings"? I did not.

Here is what I forgot about this album:

Neil's voice is so dreamy and so corny. Some people may feel Christmas nostalgia listening to Julie Andrews' bell-like soprano sing "A Few of My Favorite Things," or Judy crooning softly to "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas." Well, I have Neil's warbly, dulcet tones singing "Morning Is Broken" to deliver me back to the Christmas days of yore. For a lot of this album, I crafted impromptu dance routines for Mom-Mom. She would enable me and my "very rehearsed" dance numbers. She smiled, clapped, and praised me for my moves. I think of these moments a lot when I become a Zombie on my phone around my children. Mom-Mom didn't have the luxury of ignoring my dancing fancies, and I shouldn't either. Neil reminded me to be present like Mom-Mom.

I forgot how "Keep Christ in Christmas" this album leans. For a Jewish-American artist, this has a lot of non-secular music on it, but in Neil's way. Again, I love it. I love his exploration of these songs because he plays around, but also stands firm in his brand of charm and the charm of these songs. It reminds me of Johnny Mathis' tackling Christmas songs—that specific voice, but now it's Christmas!

I forgot about the doo-wop version of "White Christmas." Did I remember every "oo-wah-oo" of the background vocalists? Absolutely. Those "oo-wah-oos," and most of this album, exist in that same space of my brain that can recall a poem I had to recite in fifth grade about Harriet Tubman, and all the lyrics to the Mentos commercials.

Did I need this take on "White Christmas"? Eh, probably not, but I will defend this album forever and doo-wop "White Christmas" is part of the nostalgic charm for me.

Speaking of defensive, at this point Gary asked "Is this album still on?" And I divorced him for his blasphemy.

I forgot Neil tried to strike romantic gold with "You Make It Feel like Christmas" (not to be confused with Gwen Stefani's take on this topic). We have the romantic melancholy of "You Don't Bring Me Flowers," but, again, Christmas!

"Santa Claus Is Coming to Town" and that intro hit me right in my wistful heart. Ten out of ten... why hasn't anyone else paced this song out, in this way, before Neil? Love it. The "Ya better be good, ya better be good, better be gooooooood," repetition and crescendo are so iconic.

Finally, I forgot how much I knew about Neil Diamond, that my parents saw him in concert maybe five times, that Papa-Jim still wears his hair in a similar Neil Diamond fashion, and just how important adult contemporary music is in my life. Between Neil Diamond, Barry Manilow, Phil Collins, Rod Stewart, and Hall & Oates, I was doomed musically to love a little cheesy melody, some dramatic pop-ish guitar playing, and all the glitter and glitz that pairs with adult contemporary music.

So, hell yeah! I'm so glad we voted for Neil and that it jogged my ass down memory lane. Merry Christmas and ya better be good, ya better be good, better be goooooooood...

The Christmas Album, Gary

What's your favorite Christmas movie? For the longest time I always thought mine was It's a Wonderful Life. It has it all. Love. Redemption. Family. There is even a battle of good and evil. Then Melissa introduced me to Love Actually. I had never seen it before. And it's been my go-to whenever December rolls around now.

What the hell does that have to do with Neil Diamond and, The Christmas Album? Well, in Love Actually, there is an aged singer who is selling out to make an extra buck. And he hates himself for it, but it's what everyone wants. He gets piss drunk and thinks it's garbage. That's what The Christmas Album was to me.

Sure, Neil Diamond is there singing. But mostly it's a bunch of background singers, absolutely incredible instrumental, and the occasional voice of someone who just sounds tired. Obviously, all the classics are here. And I'm sure some generation felt that this was a real banger, but it just wasn't doing it for me. I couldn't wait for it to end. And when I asked Melissa, "Is this seriously still going?" She told me to shut my wh*** mouth.

So, Merry Christmas, all. And especially you, Neil. Hopefully you're still getting those residual checks.

The Christmas Album, Rachel S.

I'm just going to say it: we're all better for having lived in the same timeline as Neil Leslie Diamond. And this album? A blessing.

It's got everything you could want in a Christmas album. For starters, the name The Christmas Album—simple, straightforward, perfect UX. No notes. Then the offerings. We've got the classical holiday hymnals, tearjerkers, bops, and loads of goofy cheer. What's not to love about Christmas classics jazzed up with the charisma of a man made for Las Vegas? Save it divas, all I want for Christmas is more Neil Diamond.

And the real stocking stuffer is the ORIGINAL number "You Make It Feel like Christmas." Original Christmas music might possibly be the hardest genre out there. And Neil DID IT. All while being a member of the Tribe. The Chosen People, if you will. Now that's a mitzvah.

Hallelujah. Amen. L'chaim.

The Christmas Album, Joe

Music is integral to the proceedings. Despite the onslaught of shitty holiday songs we are inundated with for one month (plus) each year, I try to hang onto this basic truth. It would not be Christmastime without music.

It's integral almost to the point that it doesn't even matter what music you are listening to, as long as you listen to something, and just, I don't know, be open to that experience, and to allow that music that finds you to become your holiday tradition. In other words, it's the only time of year when music is not really a personal choice. From January to the end of November, you choose the music because that music says something about you. In December, the music chooses you, and you allow it to define the season.

Pam has a joke that she often tells this time of year, a memory that she supposedly has of me, very early on in our relationship and prior to our first Christmas together (2010), that I told her that "the only Christmas music my family listens to is Sufjan Stevens." The joke being that this was an unbelievably pretentious thing to say. Truth: for at least five years, during the Christmas morning ritual, my family did indeed listen to the first couple Sufjan Christmas EPs that I had burned onto a CD at some point. Fiction: that this was the only Christmas music we listened to. My common response to Pam's joke is that I could not have possibly said that, since I know for a fact that my family also listened to A Christmas Together by John Denver and the Muppets.

Neil Diamond's The Christmas Album this week unlocked a memory of a third Christmas album that the K***s would listen to during pivotal holiday moments each season. It was a compilation CD of some sort. I don't think it was part of the Now! series, because I'm looking at various releases from that soul-sucking enterprise online now and don't see Neil Diamond anywhere near them. Who knows, man, probably just some random ass holiday purchase at the register in the years before Alexa ruled my parents' living room music selections. Point being: "You Make It Feel like Christmas" was a song familiar to me, since it soundtracked (arbitrarily, but still!) some core holiday nostalgia.

And that makes me feel good, listening to it now. I understand that "x reminds me of y" is the lowest fucking form of music criticism, but I excuse it during the holidays—this really is the only reason why we tolerate holiday music at all, because it reminds us of simpler times, way back when.

"Tolerate" being the operative word here, since I'm not going to go out of my way to praise this still rather cloying Christmas album from one of rock 'n' roll's hokiest performers. I can't say with full honesty that this is a good album of music, but it serves a very specific function for me, and it performs that function extremely well. In this week leading up to Christmas, it acts as a conduit to warm emotions and hazy complacency and family-borne sentimentality. Were I to be forced to listen to Neil Diamond's The Christmas Album in, say, April, then you might as well hand me the noose.

I've expressed in the past a certain sense of responsibility I feel toward music criticism vis-á-vis Christmas music during Christmastime, but I'd like to fine-tune that theory a little bit today. I don't think it's a matter of being kind even in the face of bad music or lazy music or cravenly commercialized music; kindness is encouraged in general, but the purpose of music criticism occasionally supersedes it. No, I think when it comes to holiday music, it's more a matter of valuing honesty and humility and genuineness in that music, valuing it in ways that you might be less willing to do during the other seasons of the year.

Neil Diamond, with his penchant for overwrought singing and dramatic readings of even the most stoic classics and a born showman's ability to make a crowd excited about some otherwise treacly corny bullshit, is the epitome of the type of emotions we seek during this time of year. When I hear his "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town," with the huge stadium drumming and gospel choir and rough-edged-yet-immaculate lighter-in-the-air vocals from this middle-aged man, I detect no false pretenses. This is Neil Diamond in the pocket. This is who he is. He is presenting his true self, and I think that that's so fucking important during Christmas. That's enough for me to appreciate this album, at least this week. That's my responsibility, to be critical but not cynical.

It's corny as fuck, basically, but I'm saying that it is to society's detriment that we don't value corniness and that we push away sincerity, and that it is now, Christmastime, when we should eschew our hip cynical ironic detachment and embrace that which is true and honest and thus gooey and sentimental and corny and pap and maybe a little uncomfortable.

Were I to completely dismiss the lame ass dreck of "You Make It Feel like Christmas," then I'd be dismissing a time in my life when Christmas seemed pure and magical and totally worth the effort, and I don't want to do that. Christmas compels me to enjoy that which would otherwise feel corny. There's nothing wrong with corny when seen the right light, and Christmas provides all the light we need.

It's not a matter of giving bad music undue forgiveness, because there is also a lot of bad music around this time of year. Some of the worst music you'll ever hear in your long, sorry life will be heard in December. What I'm saying is that bad music isn't the music that's important. The important music is the, yes, corny music that actually fucking means something, even if that meaning is borne out of happenstance. I can enjoy Neil Diamond and for the only time throughout the entire calendar year not worry about what that enjoyment says about me. What it says is simple: Christmas is nice, and it's okay to feel nice, and to use those feelings of niceness to continue to feel nice through all the Christmases Yet to Come.

I still speak about Christmas magic, but the definition has changed over the years. Used to be that Christmas felt like magic because I sincerely believed that a mythical man in red would deliver presents to all the children of the world, and that this act of delivering gifts would thus deliver peace and harmony to the world's inhabitants, so in tune were they with each other due to Santa's performance. At the average age of 8.34-years-old, we stop believing in Santa, but the magic persists, and it can be found in such joys as music. Christmas frees me from the confines of the pretentious judgments and persistence in finding the music that feels "worthy," and allows me to connect to simpler emotions. That, in my opinion, is magic.

That's all I'm trying to say, man. I'm not trying to say that Neil Diamond is doing anything special here. He's not. Dude is a good performer, obviously, and I'll shout along to "Sweet Caroline" any time I hear it from now until I'm dead. But this album is fine. It's not unique beyond the fact that Neil Diamond is singing it. I'm just trying to say that this album, among others (yes, Sufjan's and the Muppets' and Now!'s and whatever album you find yourself arbitrarily connected to), can perform that essential function of making you feel happy in the present by reminding you of previous happiness. Nostalgia in its purest form. That's the magic of Christmas.

GRADE: 3 pukes out of 5

Christmas with the Chipmunks, Vol. 1, Gary

Me, I want a hula hoop!

Let's be honest. Either you absolutely hate or you absolutely love the Chipmunks Christmas album. I think both arguments would be valid. At some point, the high-pitched Chipmunks do get to be too much. Having said that though, the album is full on 10/10 nostalgia for me.

Poor Dave. He just wants to force these three talking chipmunks to sing so he can make lots of money.  And all they do is cause him grief. Well, let's be honest. Alvin is a pain in the ass. And nothing brings 35-year-old me more joy than hearing "Alvin!" and my kids thinking it's hilarious.

Every track on this is basically a home run. Not that it's good by any means in terms of actual music and "talent," but every song is a classic that you just can't help but sing along to. And outside of watching A Christmas Story, nothing else gets me more out of my grinchy self and into the holiday spirit.

Christmas with the Chipmunks: Vol. 1, Joe

There's a difference between being a "Grinch" and being a "Scrooge." Both are designed as holiday-flavored insults, but they are not interchangeable.

A Grinch is someone who hates Christmas out of spite. He acknowledges that Christmas represents some darker part of himself, and, instead of dealing with that darkness, decides that it would be better if the spirit of Christmas were extinguished. A Grinch can't handle Christmas, and so no one else should be able to either. There is a maliciousness in a Grinch, hate for hate's sake. It's a subconscious self-hatred, too, which is what makes it so inconceivable that anyone could want to be so joyful and merry during the holidays. Any holiday mirth directed toward the Grinch is dismissed, since, deep within his soul, he truly believes that he doesn't deserve that mirth.

A Scrooge, on the other hand, is totally content with who he is and how he behaves. He acknowledges that his values do not align with Christmas's. There is a certain measure of blockading being done, both consciously and subconsciously, during the holidays. Treating everyone else with love and respect does nothing to further the Scrooge's causes, and so he attempts to distance himself from that love and respect, not because he doesn't acknowledge their ostensible value to others, but more because he doesn't find value in them for himself. To the Scrooge, Christmas is an interloper, a nuisance, and he believes that the world would be a better place if society stopped believing in such nonsense. That most other people consider it a gift, not a burden, does nothing to change his mind.

I fucking hate this album, and I am probably being a Grinch and a Scrooge about it.

The idea of listening to a grown man who sped up his voice and is pretending to be a trio of chipmunk children is the type of idea that makes me physically ill, to say nothing of the actual seasick-qualities of the onslaught of helium-inflicted vocals. When I hear Alvin et al., I hate Christmas, and I don't want anyone else to be happy when this hear this shit either. If I had a big sled and a small dog with a reindeer antler tied to his head, I'd go house to house and take every fucking copy of this album that I could find and bring them to the top of my mountain and burn them instead of letting my 3x-heart give them back. Hate, hate, hate. Hate, hate, hate. Double Hate. LOATHE ENTIRELY.

I also acknowledge that some people find happiness in such dreck, and mostly believe that it would be better if I just stayed in my room and enjoyed the cold darkness and let all the hoopleheads listen to their sickeningly high-pitched odes to commercial consumption. My goals and Alvin's goals diverge from the very beginning. I believe that there is worthy holiday music out there, just like I believe that there is worthy music in general out there, waiting to be discovered, and wasting my time listening to fictional mammals fight in the studio about who is singing which verse is not where I want to be. You celebrate Christmas your way; let me celebrate it in mine. Note my rictus smile as I imagine the idea of David Seville defaulting on his mortgage.

Call me a Grinch, call me a Scrooge, I don't care. Fuck this novelty bullshit. Bah humbug.

There's probably a good reason why "The Chipmunk Song (Christmas Don't Be Late)" is the first song we hear in the otherwise impeccably-soundtracked Almost Famous (Mandy and I never got around to talking about this in her interview; too busy talking about racial-motivated revenge celebrations soundtracked by "Who Let the Dogs Out"). Eleven-not-twelve-year-old William has a musical awakening when his sister, Zooey Deschanel, gifts him her record collection. Before good music, William was uncool. After he discovers good music, he is cool. So the implication is that the film itself "becomes cool" too, once its protagonist discovers the classics. The music we hear before the film becomes cool? The extremely uncool Alvin and the Chipmunks novelty Christmas song.

Maybe there is a point in everyone's life when you become uncool again. I imagine that it'll happen to me, if it hasn't already. The crushing realization is inevitable. And when it happens, I truly believe that I will hear "The Chipmunk Song (Christmas Don't Be Late)" ringing in my ears as the scene plays out.

GRADE: 1 puke out of 5 (full puke earned due to the fact that these are fictional cartoon characters, and so, like, what else would I have expected, other than this stupid silliness?) (or: one puke because I am not cool)