Santa’s Mixed Bag

Schickele Mix Episode #163

Part of The Schickele Mix Online Fan Archive

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1998-12-16

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[This is a machine-generated transcript, cleaned up and formatted as HTML. You can download the original as an .srt file.]

Hello there, I'm Peter Schickele and this is Schickele Mix, a program dedicated to the proposition that all musics are created equal.
Or as Duke Ellington put it, if it sounds good, it is good.
And this is a good time to give our thanks for the fact that our bills are paid by the
Corporation for Public Broadcasting and this radio station, and also for the fact that the program is distributed by PRI, Public Radio International. And speaking of distribution makes me think of publishing. I'm sure you've noticed, as I have, that there are several kinds of book, several genres, for which there seems to be an absolutely inexhaustible market. We can start with the two Cs, cookbooks and cat books.
Can you imagine the day ever coming when one editor says to another, nah, I don't think we should publish this Christmas cookbook, the greatest recipe ever told. There's an awful lot of cookbooks out there already.
Or when an editor says to an author, I'm afraid we're going to pass on your book. It's a good title, everything you always wanted to know about cats, but didn't know you wanted to know until this book was published. But well, we just published a cat book 12 years ago and we don't want to saturate the
market.
That day is a long way off, I should think.
In fact, it seems to me that someone could make a mint by combining those genres.
How to cook your cat.
Okay, I've got to take the phone off the hook after saying that. Or how about cooking for your cat, 25 dishes, the leftovers of which you'll enjoy yourself. A little clumsy, I guess. But this one is the essence of simplicity, the cat cookbook. You know, recipes for mouse and vole and half a dozen different songbirds.
Hey, I just got a good idea for a radio show.
It's called Catman.
He's a mysterious Himalayan figure who foils wrongdoers by clouding their minds.
Who know what evil lurk in hearts of men, Catman do?
Well enough of this.
And of course, you have to add self-help books to the list of inexhaustible markets, including the yin to the yang of cookbooks, diet books. Well, in the recording industry, there's just one field that matches the cook, cat, and self-help book fields in terms of fathomlessness, and that's Christmas music.
If I had a nickel for every Christmas album out there, I could stay at the same parking
meter for years.
Almost all the mainstream artists have at least one Christmas album and every kind of music you can think of.
I've got CDs like a Cajun Christmas, a Jazz Christmas, a Blues Christmas, a Classical Christmas, a Baroque Christmas, a Rhythm and Blues Christmas.
I don't have a Polka Christmas, but I'm sure there's one out there. Now part of the reason for this cornucopia is simply that Christmas means a great deal to a lot of people and they want to experience it in musical idioms that are close to them.
And especially if they're not wasps who grew up in the northern half of the United
States, as I did, some of what is considered to be part of the traditional Christmas atmosphere might not mean much to them.
Snow, a sort of English jollity, old-fashioned European songs.
I can imagine someone from my background listening to our first selection and thinking, oh, this is sort of a folky rendition and she's singing it in translation, forgetting perhaps that we too sing it in translation. It was originally written in German and not knowing perhaps that the very first time this
song was sung, it was accompanied by the guitar.
Oh, I like it.
[No speech for 140s.]
Tony Komatsu singing Silent Night in Hawaiian.
The song was written by the Austrian composer Franz Gruber on Christmas Eve in 1818.
It was first sung that night at the local church, but since the organ was broken, it
was accompanied by guitar.
There are probably few songs that have been translated into as many languages as Silent
Night.
But there's another reason for the proliferation of Christmas music. And that is that for the recording industry, it all comes together at Christmas time. There's a rich repertoire of beloved music ranging from traditional carols to modern
standards.
It's a communal time.
People are getting together more than usual and they're buying gifts for each other, which means that they're in the shops and the malls hearing the ubiquitous music brought to them by the spirit of Christmas presents.
The market is huge.
And let me say right here, flat out, that on today's show, we will be dealing with Christmas
mainly as a cultural phenomenon.
No matter what your faith or your background, you can hardly live in this country without being impacted, as we say in the biz, by Christmas. As I said, the market is huge. The only trouble is that there's so much stuff out there, product we call it in the biz, that it's hard to come up with anything new. In a journalistic first and a shickly mix exclusive, here is part of a tape we obtained from an anonymous source who used to work at Acme Records.
What are we going to do, Manny? Here it is August and we haven't even started work on a Christmas album yet.
We need ideas and we need them fast. How about a jazz nativity?
Been done.
Calypso nativity?
Been done.
A NATO nativity?
Come on, Manny, get serious. Nobody cares about NATO.
I don't even know what its capital is.
Hey, hey, hey, hey, Archie, how about Christmas carols as if they'd been written by famous
classical composers?
Hey, hey, here's an idea. Christmas carols as if they'd been written by famous classical composers.
Good idea, boss.
Who's that panty-waist piano guy that all the effete snobs love so much? It's something about a musical getting a bad review.
A musical getting a bad review? I'm not saying that is his name, but it has something to do with, you know, like a Broadway musical getting a bad review. You don't mean Chopin.
Chopin, yeah, that's it.
See, Chopin writes a Christmas carol, except really it's already been written, but he doesn't know that.
Hey, hey, hey, maybe we could pair it with another piano style, like boogie-woogie. No, no, no, no, no, no, here, this is even better.
We pair it with another piano style, like boogie-woogie.
There you go.
Chopin and boogie-woogie, what a concept.
I think it's got legs, boss.
[No speech for 208s.]
Drink the horse with boughs of holly, fa-la-la-la, la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la.
Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la.
Tis the season we got to be jolly, fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la.
Don't we know our game of carols?
Fa-la-la-la, la-la-la, fa-la-la-la-la-la.
Tis the season everybody's got to be jolly, fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la.
[No speech for 19s.]
Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la-la.
[No speech for 35s.]
Don't we know our game of carols? Fa-la-la-la, la-la-la, fa-la-la-la-la-la.
Tis the season we got to be jolly, fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la.
Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la.
Y'all have a very merry Christmas and a very prosperous New Year.
Y'all hear?
And Santa, baby, please, it would do me so much good if you would just leave me a five-pound box of money
under my Christmas tree wrapped in a red ribbon.
We Three Kings is composed by Chopin, at least according to Jeffrey Reed Baker, on whose album A Composer's Christmas the selection appears. Nicely done, very tasty.
Then we heard Katie Webster singing and playing Deck the Halls with Boogie Woogie from the Alligator Records Christmas Collection.
How much is a five-pound box of money?
All depends.
But the maw of demand for Christmas product still gapes. It must be filled with product, preferably product that will make consumers sit up and take notice, something that will jolt them out of their jaded complacency.
We asked Professor Sigmund Freud, who holds the Andrew Warhol Chair of Popular Psychology at the University of Point Barrow, to comment on the next two songs.
Well, there never is a phenomenon of intense enthusiasm for a person or an institution or one of those things.
It is often followed by an equally intense reaction, an opposite feeling of revulsion or at least clinical disinterest.
It happened with Lennon.
It happened with the Hula Hoop.
I'm sure it will happen with the Beatles one of these decades. But with Christmas, there's an added parameter in that many people feel, I think, that they are being coerced, that they are being required to have a good time during the holidays. And with these people, especially if they did not rebel, if they did not effectively rebel as teenagers, they effectively reach a point where they equate the season with parental assault, which whether they know it or not,
they detest with an unconventional passion.
Christmas time is here by golly.
Disapproval would be folly.
Deck the halls with hunks of holly.
Fill the cup and don't say when.
Kill the turkeys, ducks, and chickens.
Mix the punch, drag out the dickens.
Even though the prospect sickens, brother, here we go again.
On Christmas Day, you can't get sore.
Your fellow man you must adore.
There's time to rob him all the more.
The other three hundred and a six, a D, a four.
Relation, sparing no expense.
Send some useless old utensil or a matching pen and pencil. Just the thing I need.
How nice. It doesn't matter how sincere it is nor how heartfelt the spirit. Sediment will not endear it.
What's important is the price. Bark the herald.
Tribune sings. Advertising wondrous things.
God rest ye merry merchants.
May ye make the yuletide pay.
Angels we have heard on high. Tell us to go out and buy. So let the rock a sleigh bells jingle.
Hail our dear old friend Kris Kringle.
Driving his reindeer across the sky. Don't stand underneath when they fly by.
Ah, Christmas time.
There's a certain time of year when the world has a special glow.
Children's laughter I can hear from sleigh rides in the snow.
And while everyone's heart is light all across the land one thing I know tonight
I can't stand it, man.
Every Christmas
I am listless giving gifts just ain't my bag.
Sleigh bells ringing and off-keys singing Christmas music makes me gag.
To play that junk should be a crime.
I hate Christmas time.
Have mercy.
It's the time when Stimpy's sickly sweet.
He's always trying to fatten me with another Christmas treat. I hate this hole, hole, hole. I wanna go, go, go as far away as I can from that jolly fat cat man.
I'm blinded by Christmas lights. They make the night too bright.
Then I can't sleep when I go to bed.
I hate that stupid tree.
And no one sends cards to me. All I can see is green and red. Just color me blue and I'll be fine.
I hate Christmas time. Yes, I do.
I know what I'm talking about. And I'm not too fond of New Year's either.
Okay.
A Christmas Carol from the album An Evening Wasted with Tom Lehrer, followed by I Hate Christmas
from Ren and Stimpy's Crock-A-Christmas.
By the way, the opinions expressed by Ren are not necessarily those, as a matter of fact, they are not those of Peter Schickele, the host of Schickele Mix,
from PRI, Public Radio International. Santa's Mixed Bag.
We're exploring the fact that the tremendous demand for Christmas music results in albums that stretch, or perhaps exceed, the limits of what is considered appropriate musical behavior for what is, after all, a holiday steeped in tradition.
But as we mentioned earlier, different cultures or different parts of the culture
adapt the traditional songs in ways that bring them closer to the people doing them.
This next cut is too long to play in its entirety. I'll fade it out after the first verse. But I'm curious how you feel about it.
Is the purpose here to shock?
This is not a setup, by the way. I'm curious, is the purpose to shock, or is the singer simply doing the song in a way that is meaningful to him, or are they both the same thing?
acoustic guitar plays softly
[No speech for 12s.]
Silent night
Holy night All is calm
All is bright
One young virgin
Mother and child
Holy infant so
Tender and mild
Sleep in heavenly peace
[No speech for 21s.]
Silent night
Silent night by Sisqo Poison
from an album called Santa and Satan, One and the Same. It's your typical heavy metal Christmas album.
I expect that some people are deeply offended by that.
I must say,
and I am about as un-punk as you can get,
that I like it, although it certainly is the least silent silent night I've ever heard.
Franz Gruber is, I expect, turning in his grave, which, I expect, doesn't bother the members of Sisqo Poison at all.
As I say, the album is called Santa and Satan, One and the Same.
It says, indisputable proof inside.
On the front you see Satan all there in red saying,
Ha, ha, ha!
And on the back you see Santa all in red saying,
Ho, ho, ho!
And some of their points here on the inside
are Santa, nickname is Saint Nick.
Satan, nickname is Old Nick. Santa, red is favorite color.
Satan, red is favorite color.
Santa, sees you when you're sleeping, knows when you're awake.
Satan, ditto.
And our final proof, by transposing one letter in his name,
Satan can instantly cash his social security checks made out to Santa.
Okay, this insatiable demand for Christmas music results not only in traditional songs being done in every possible way, but also in an unusually high number of novelty albums.
Even though Santa Claus is not really a religious figure,
I think people get a slightly sacrilegious thrill hearing him placed in everyday situations or even embarrassing situations.
We asked the Santa Claus at the department store near here what he thinks the best gift you can give at Christmas is.
Um, laughter. I think, yeah, laughter.
Come on up here, kid.
Ho, ho, ho.
[No speech for 20s.]
Somebody stole my Santa Claus suit.
Somebody ripped off my beard, hat, and boots.
Some little fatso is all dressed in red.
He even had the gall to swipe the pillow off my bed.
Not what my kids going to think. If Santa's a no-show, well, boy, they'll raise a stink. But deck the halls and what the hell, I've still got my jingle bells.
I've still got my jingle bells. So, sir, you can keep the suit,
because frankly, I don't give a hoot.
Ho, ho, ho. Yeah.
Somebody stole my Santa Claus suit.
Somebody ripped off my beard, hat, and boots.
Some little fatso is all dressed in red.
He even had the gall to swipe the pillow off my bed.
Not what my kids going to think.
If Santa's a no-show, well, boy, they'll raise a stink.
But deck the halls and what the hell, I've still got my jingle bells. So, sucker, you can keep the suit, because frankly, I don't give a hoot. But where, oh, where's my Santa Claus suit?
That get-up set me back a bundle of loot.
The beard alone was $4.98.
The box it came in was an antique orange crate. Somebody took the whole shebang.
If I find that roly-poly mother, he's going to hang.
But, gee, I guess that's no way to be.
He might do some good with it, in all facts to me.
So, sucker, you can keep the suit,
because frankly, I don't give a hoot.
Santa won't be back next Christmas Eve. It sounds strange, I know, it's hard to believe. But the state patrol's watching everybody these days.
He was weaving in the sky in his reindeer soleil.
So they radioed to every cop in the state that it was only a matter of minutes to wait when he landed on a housetop.
And there they were, telling Santa to exhale in a breathalyzer.
Santa got a DWI.
For we were around in the sky. Believe me, I wouldn't lie.
Oh, Santa got a DWI.
They took Santa down to the county jail.
Gave him one phone call to raise $10,000 bail. By some strange note, Santa called me. Said he needed 10 grand just to set himself free.
They impounded Santa's sleigh and his reindeer too.
And they'll probably end up in the city zoo. And there won't be any Santa next Christmas Eve.
I can't raise his bail, no one will believe.
Santa got a DWI.
For we were around in the sky.
Believe me, I wouldn't lie.
Oh, Santa got a DWI.
There's a moral to the song, don't be mad at mad. If you have a few numbers, better catch a cab. Don't ever try to drive if you can't walk.
Cause even old Santa ain't above the law. Santa got a DWI.
For we were around in the sky. Believe me, I wouldn't lie. Oh, Santa got a DWI.
Everybody now.
Santa got a DWI.
For we were around in the sky.
Believe me, I wouldn't lie.
Oh, Santa got a DWI. Yeah, Santa got a DWI.
Oh, Santa got a DWI.
Yeah, Santa got a DWI. Oh, Santa got a DWI.
Yeah, Santa got a DWI.
OK, we heard the Christmas Jug Band featuring Dan Hicks doing Somebody Stole My Santa Claus Suit and then Sherwin Linton doing Santa Got a DWI.
Those are both off a fairly amazing Rhino compilation album called Bummed Out Christmas. I mean, those are very easygoing.
Some of the stuff on that album is really dark stuff.
Christmas in prison, Christmas in jail, Christmas in Vietnam.
It's got a great photo on the cover
of a little white plastic Christmas tree set up in a motel room next to the TV.
But, so, now I'm beginning to wonder, there are so many of these novelty items. What's the most off-the-wall Christmas cut I can find?
I mean, we've heard different styles,
classical, boogie-woogie, heavy metal.
We've heard anti-Christmas songs. We've heard making fun of Santa songs.
What's next?
Ha, ha, ha! Oh, my name?
Well, that shouldn't be hard.
Hee, hee, hee! It's, uh, claw-beating.
And I'm the animal trainer here at the, uh... at the, uh, circus, and, uh... Well, you know, I think that animals are, uh...
smarter than we give them credit.
You know, sometimes.
Sometimes I think that they're, uh... smarter than I am.
Hee, hee, hee!
I like these dogs here.
Now...
Now, you used to have...
You know, if you wanted animals to be like, uh, singing and, uh, you know, for a movie or, you know...
You had people, people pretending to be... You had them singing for, you know...
But my dogs here...
Well, all I can say is...
You know those three-tenors? They should be feeling pretty nervous.
Hee, hee, hee!
Dashing through the snow
In a one-horse open sleigh
O'er the fields we go
Laughing all the way
Bells on bobtails ring
Making spirits bright
What fun it is to ride
In a one-horse open sleigh
Jingle bells, jingle, jingle bells, bells
Jingle, jingle all the way
Oh, what fun it is to ride
In a one-horse open sleigh
Hear them bells, them jingle bells
Jingle, jingle all the way
Oh, what fun it is to ride
In a one-horse open sleigh
If you're moving or to a ball
Hi-ya! I'll see you there
And see you standing right there
While seated by my side
A horse, one, two, three, four A cat, two, four, five, six
A monkey, a turkey, a hippo A penguin, a duck, duck, duck
Jingle bells, jingle bells, bells
Jingle all the way
Oh, what fun it is to ride
In a one-horse open sleigh
Jingle bells, jingle bells, bells
Jingle, jingle all the way
Oh, what fun it is to ride
In a one-horse open sleigh Go, go, go, smile, be bright Do it while you're young
Take the girls to ride
And sing their praising song And get up off their mat
Party, party
Then hitch him to an open sleigh
And crack, you'll take the lead
Jingle bells, jingle bells, bells
Jingle all the way
Oh, what fun it is to ride
In a one-horse open sleigh Jingle bells, jingle bells, bells
Jingle all the way
Oh, what fun it is to ride
In a one-horse open sleigh Jingle bells, jingle bells, bells
Jingle all the way
Ooooooh!
Oh, what fun it is to ride
In a one-horse open sleigh
Oh, what fun it is to ride
In a one-horse open sleigh
Jingle bells, jingle bells, bells
Oh,
oh,
[No speech for 89s.]
We're getting into the outer reaches of novelty space here. Animals old style were represented by the chipmunks singing jingle bells.
Rodents on speed, double speed.
And then we heard a medley. It came upon and we wish you a hairy Christmas from an album called Top Dog.
Holiday favorites in dog.
The dogs are named Bentley, Weaver, Henschel, Bogey, Pepper, Cindy and Roxanne. Their trainer is named Craig Huxley. Their back announcer is named Peter Schickele. And the show is named Schickele Mix from PRI, Public Radio International.
Okay, folks, this is it.
We're almost at the bottom of Santa's mixed bag.
The culmination of our search for the jaw-droppingest, off-the-wall-est, unlikeliest novelty number to come down the holiday pike.
Now, I've heard famous melodies played on practically every instrument around.
And I've played a few less usual instruments myself, such as the tuned water glasses, the balloons, the fog horn and the bicycle.
But it never occurred to me that you could play joy to the world with the following ensemble.
Table saws, pipes, ratchet, power drill, power screwdriver, two-by-fours, plane, hammer, saw, power miter box, anvil, framing square and T-square.
I don't know why it didn't occur to me.
[No speech for 166s.]
Joy to the World, performed by Woody Phillips from an album called A Toolbox Christmas. Well, okay, now that we've achieved Christmas novelty record nirvana, I'd actually like to go back to some real Christmas music in the broader, more all-encompassing sense. Not typical Christmas music, but pieces with a spiritual dimension, at least in my humble opinion.
We've been dealing mostly in pairs today, and our last pair is made up of two songs, each of which is rather daring in its way.
The first tells the story of Mary and Joseph in a modern context and an unexpected musical idiom, and comments calmly on modern Christmas observance.
And the second piece does something that really takes nerve and really pulls it off. It preserves the words of Silent Night, but sets them to new, original music, although there is a brief bow to Gruber's famous melody towards the end.
Here's Christmas Day and Silent Night.
Silent Night
Mary and Joseph drove into town Searching for a place to stay The moon was up and his foot was down A miracle was on its way
They tried the hotels, the motels The bed and breakfast locals But no one seemed to have any room Better find a double room soon
So where would Christmas be without
Mary and Joseph, Malcolm and Wise Laura and Hardy, a cracker surprise
Lights on the pine tree And all out to shave
I'm not forgetting Jesus Who was born on Christmas Day
Silent Night
They found a place with a neon light TV pool and vacant seats
The man on the desk didn't hear them right When the two of them booked for three They watched the TV and deeply She felt a push uniquely
And the heavens delivered this way And it happened on Christmas Day
Christmas Day
So where would Christmas be without
Mary and Joseph, Malcolm and Wise Laura and Hardy, a cracker surprise
Lights on the pine tree And all out to shave
I'm not forgetting Jesus Who was born on Christmas Day
Mary and Joseph were so surprised With admirers around the crib There was something in their son's eyes That magnetically took one in
Like a messiah and on fire Like a train around a tire We'd grip our roads to fortune's face
And it happened on Christmas Day
Christmas Day
So where would Christmas be without
Mary and Joseph, Malcolm and Wise Laura and Hardy, a cracker surprise
Lights on the pine tree And all out to shave
I'm not forgetting Jesus Who was born on Christmas Day
[No speech for 35s.]
Silent night, holy night
All is calm, all is bright
Round yon virgin, mother and child
Holy infant so tender and mild Sleep in peace
Silent night, holy night
Shepherds quake at the sight
Glories streaming from heaven afar
Heavenly hosts sing alleluia Christ is born
Silent night, holy night
All is calm, all is bright
Round yon virgin, mother and child
Holy infant so tender and mild Sleep in peace
Alleluia, alleluia
Christmas Day from Squeeze on a CD called New Wave Christmas and then Silent Night from Three Carols by Kevin Oldham performed by Pamela Williamson with Lyra Pringle-Ferrigo on flute and Wesley Kelly on harp. I love that piece.
We've heard it before on the show but it's certainly worth hearing again.
It's from a CD called Navitas, American Christmas Carols with the Kansas City Chorale. Silent Night has provided the pillars on today's show framing the silliness, sometimes inspired silliness but industrial strength silliness nevertheless that has made up the bulk of what we've heard.
Let's go out with Bob Kindred on tenor sax and our final Silent Night.
[No speech for 23s.]
And that's Schickele Mix for this week.
Our program is made possible with funds provided by the Corporation for Public Broadcasting and by this radio station and its members.
The program is distributed by PRI, Public Radio International.
We'll tell you in a moment how you can get an official playlist of all the music on today's program with album numbers and everything.
Just refer to the program number. This is program number 163. And this is Peter Schickele saying goodbye and reminding you that it don't mean a thing if it ain't got that certain je ne sais quoi.
Looking good. See you next week.
PRI, Public Radio International.