record store memories: seasonal affective disorder and holiday music

Back in the early eighties I ran a record store situated on the border of Santa Monica and Brentwood…the upscale LA neighborhood that a certain football player put on the map after slashing his pretty blonde ex to death along with her friend. And in fact, OJ was one of the owners of the Honey Baked Ham franchise on the same block as us, so occasionally I’d see him when he stopped in for a sandwich.

My foray into the life of a record store manager lasted about four years because I found dealing with the public…especially the celebrity clientele that we had…simply exhausting. Working a dozen hours six days a week and answering the same questions over and over was like living a Bill Murray-nightmarish Groundhog Day existence. On the plus side, I met my future wife there during her stint as one of our many UCLA cashiers and the other day she reminded me as she often does that there were grounds for harassment charges if she had chosen to go that route and fortunately she didn’t, so here we are.

Yesterday I had one of those extended daydream-type moments where for a few minutes I went back to that time when I was younger, had much more hair, wore tight jeans and was the all-knowing answer man for the obscure and trivial. It was an article I saw on the inter-webs that took me back, one that focused on this year’s new releases of holiday music. A unique genre with a short shelf life unless you’re Nat King Cole or Bing Crosby, it has always fascinated me why an artist would take this road.

Many of the “new releases” that come out each year are actually quite old. Those wacky record label marketing execs love to show off that they are the masters of selling old crap as if it was new, so they come up with new compilations, new names and new ways to take your money. That there are only a dozen Christmas songs we really care about ever hearing, and that they have been done to both death and perfection is of no consequence. There is some small fraction of consumer that actually buys into the notion that they need to purchase this stuff because year after year it keeps coming out.

Last year Bob Dylan put out a collection of holiday tunes that were considered to be either genius or a weird mutation of self-destruction. I hated it until I saw a video of “Here Comes Santa Clause” that ranks up there with any Fellini film you can think of. Aimee Mann put out a holiday album a few years ago and although I own everything she has ever done and think she is the ice queen of cool, I couldn’t bare to check it out. My Christmas wish is that we never see another holiday release again. Fat chance.

This year we have a handful of pop stars cashing in with their take: Jessica Simpson, Lady Antebellum, Annie Lennox and for the second time around, Mariah Carey. In the “why oh why” category we have the Indigo Girls, Shelby Lynne, Steve Wariner and Dan Hicks and his Hot Licks. Bringing up this year’s “fingers on the chalkboard” releases, I’ll cast my vote for Wilson-Phillip’s Christmas in Harmony and the ever joyful and delightful Metal X-Mas.

Bringing back the initial focus of this piece to Hollywood murderers and such, let’s face it….Phil Spector’s A Christmas Gift For You is probably one of the best records ever made. Perhaps an artist needs a skeleton or two in their closet in order to create exceptional holiday classics. I mean….Bing Crosby is said to have been a bit of an abuser toward his sons, Elvis liked to watch teenage girls wrestle while they wore white cotton underwear and c’mon…those “chestnuts roasting on an open fire”…what did Mel Torme really mean when he wrote that?

In our record store we played non-stop holiday music during the final two weeks leading up to Christmas. Along with extended hours, no time off, long lines and all the other fun consumerisms that pop up during the season, it’s a deadly mix.

But this morning as I think it over, there is one artist and one Christmas song that I have never, ever gotten tired of hearing. A band that is squeaky clean…never a hint of scandal, no trashing of hotel rooms, no drug busts, no lead singer wearing sunglasses and leather pants trying to save the world, no appearances on American Idol, no sex scandals involving thresher sharks and willing groupies, no rehab stints, no “final tour” only to come back again and again, no break ups or lawsuits…please take a moment and sing along with me…and we don’t need no stinkin’ video or karaoke soundtrack as it’s etched into our collective memory bank:

(all right you Chipmunks! Ready to sing your song?
-I’ll say we are!
-Yeah!
-Let’s sing it now!
Okay, Simon?
-Okay!
Okay, Theodore?
-Okay!
Okay, Alvin? Alvin? ALVIN!
-OKAY!!!)

Christmas, Christmas time is near
Time for toys and time for cheer
We’ve been good, but we can’t last
Hurry Christmas, hurry fast
Want a plane that loops the loop
Me, I want a hula hoop
We can hardly stand the wait
Please Christmas, don’t be late.

Okay fellas get ready
That was very good, Simon.
-Naturally.
Very good Theodore.
-Ahhh.
Ah, Alvin, you were a little flat, watch it.
Ah, Alvin. Alvin. ALVIN!
-OKAY.

Want a plane that loops the loop
I still want a hula hoop
We can hardly stand the wait
Please Christmas, don’t be late.
We can hardly stand the wait
Please Christmas, don’t be late.

Very good, boys
-Lets sing it again! Yeah, lets sing it again!
No, That’s enough, lets not overdo it
-What do you mean overdo it?
-We want to sing it again!
Now wait a minute, boys
-Why can’t we sing it again?
-[chipmunk chatter]
Alvin, cut that out..Theodore, just a minute.
Simon will you cut that out? Boys…