‘Twas the night before ch-(vi)-rusmas and all through the house, Covid and germs were scaring the mouse. Well, the usually meek and mild-mannered slimster was not really playing at being a mus, Latin for Mickey’s kin but trying to figure out what mus-ic to play. Suitably seasonal yet not saccharine and treacly like the garbage played in public spaces. An annual complaint, for there the dreaded earworms strike, and the lean one sure does not want to spend hours with Frosty, subliminally told to be jolly under the holly.
Hence the CD that dominated the playlist that miserable evening three years ago, Twisted Sister’s “Twisted Christmas”. Highly recommended for those who abhor horrid covers of “classics.” Just listen to the metal masters vibrant version of Silver Bells and you will never want to listen to the original again. Although, why would you want to? (Curious historical trivia footnote: Twisted Sister hails from the aptly named burg of Ho-Ho-Kus, New Jersey. Look it up if you doubt the musical magi, and tell me that they are not qualified to interpret Yuletide tunes. As well, no Sopranos suffered in the making of that album.)
That was then. Three full years later the slender songster has matured somewhat. A fine phrase for those who have not seen you for a long time. Ain’t getting old, just getting around to aging gracefully. The isolation of the corona period led to the acceptance of new technology and a return to old interests. The first meant developing a slight dependence, addiction is harsh, on the computer for music. YouTube is a wonderful repository of tunes rarely heard on the radio, often the first place that one heard a classic. Paired with this development was figuring out how to Spotify (to the Bose, what sound compared to the ancient computer!) and streaming CBC’s 200 choices from the spectrum. Man, no advertising to ruin the feeling. Just needs tweaking to avoid the twerking.
The second resulted from spending far too much time outdoors at night. The bars and concert halls were closed, and even with a respectable record collection the experience of live performance was dearly missed. No surprise then that scanning the evening sky was part of those nocturnal perambulations. Full moons of all colours and their names re-entered the consciousness as well as all the songs written to celebrate their impact. The long-suffering and sometimes bitter half-suggested the venting to others as a way of herself being spared arcane astronomical and musical footnotes.
Fleeing the onslaught of Xmas xcentrics in the musical world is a short-term solution. And while, baby, it has not yet been cold outside, one must return to the warmth of the indoors, where silence does not reign. Hence the gracile guy dusted off some old classic Estonian CDs as well as some truly curious purchases made over the years. (Anybody out there wishing to be gifted Eino Grön’s “Valkea Joulu”, yup, White Christmas? Truly melancholy musical meandering of covers and mournful minor-key musings by the Florida-based Finnish warbler that will turn anyone off covering seasonal songs. Best exemplified by Oi Jouluyö, also not needing translation.)
And a delightful re-disc-overy. And an anniversary of note to mention. Noorkuu (New moon, thus satisfying lunar interests) is a wonderful a cappella group. Their jõulu CD, not too imaginatively named “Christmas in a cappella” was released 20 years ago this month. And smite me down if the opening cut is not “Jõulukell”! Polar opposite of the version performed by the deformed distaff relative noted above. Silver Bells it ain’t, but cheerful it is. Noorkuu unfortunately fell victim to the need experienced by many Estonian singers back then, to sing covers in English without perfect pronunciation. Thus “Last Christmas” and the very same “Oh Holy Night” butchered by Grön may be pitch-perfect, as quality a cappela must be - but grating nevertheless. However, a lovely and thankfully short CD to listen to while stirring hapukapsas, peeling beets and chopping herring, all the while attempting to feel that the merry-making is worthwhile. It can be, after all.
(Hint: dour Scandinavians, for just this reason, invented Jul glögg. A reasonable ration of glögg, rather than a noggin of nog, the other sickly sweet treat of the season make the excesses go down easy. Just watch out for Rudolph’s contribution to the spices in the mulled wine…)
