For the next few months, things are going to be a bit mad. So to keep up my writing and this site, I'm going to do in blogging what Radiolab occasionally does in podcasts and affectionately call 'shorts'. No, not the abbreviated pants, but abbreviated posts.

So today, let's catalogue my family's odd Christmas traditions:

• - a empty space where a tree should be 
• More accurately, a bunch of boxes and a treadmill. My parents are constantly reshuffling the house, and I think they hate the to-do associated with setting up and taking down the tree. Christmas, unlike nature, apparently doesn't abhor a vacuum, but I do! - the sight of a pretty, lighted Christmas tree is sorely missed.
• - poorly wrapped presents
• My parents are the worst gift givers. As noted in a previous post, if they could just give me a plain, unvarnished stack of dollar bills they would. But they know that their daughter finds the idea of money gifts thoughtless and rather insulting, and so they try (I'm a spoiled only child, I know). 
• But the idea of wrapping gifts in beautiful bows and carefully coordinated, pleated paper: that's completely beyond them. If something is stuffed in a paper grocery bag or still in its original shipping box, in their minds, that is gift-wrapping enough. So in the process of opening presents, I've had the pleasure of using box cutters and scissors to hack them open, the adventure of wading through pools of packing peanuts and endless bubble wrap to reveal the prizes inside. 
• (Though, at one point in time, they somehow obtained a roll of Dragon Ball wrapping paper, and all my presents, birthday or holiday, for the next few years were surrounded by truly embarrassing reams of Gokus and Gohans. Embarrasing, but kind of sweet.)
• - Chinese food
• I'm slowly transitioning them to traditional dinners of some sort of roasted meat and side dishes - what can I say? I'm a twinkie. But inevitably, we will, over the course of the holiday, consume something harking back to our Asian heritage: stir-fries and lamb casserole at the local hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant where my parents know every waiters' name; an incongruent plate of steamed bok choy with oyster sauce placed next to the centerpiece of a tender, burnished prime rib roast; dim sum for Boxing Day breakfast. I used to hate it, but I've learned to compromise: this year, we're making dumplings for Boxing Day.
• - movies on Christmas Day
• Basically, we'd be Jewish, if we weren't Christian.
• - watching a Doctor Who marathon in preparation for the Christmas special
• Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm a nerd, and I'm one of those. It's a fairly new tradition, given that I just got sucked up into the Time Vortex that is Doctor Who, but now during some holiday in the year, I sit my parents on the couch and force them to watch the most recent season. In fact, last year during Thanksgiving, while I cooked, I made them watch a crash course of the best episodes from various seasons with various Doctors in an attempt to help them make some sense of the 50th anniversary special, which I made them watch with dessert. And then last Christmas, I proceeded to make them watch the Christmas special (also known as Matt Smith's last episode), where they have to put up with my teary eyes and stifled sobs as I mourned the loss of Chinboy. 
• (I won over my dad, at least - my mom, not so much). 
• - singing Christmas songs on Christmas Eve
• When I was really young, my parents used to make me preach a little message on Christmas Eve; I made a truly fiery and compelling preacher, with my Precious Moments peach colored bible, my school-ruled paper and penciled notes, and high-pitched voice. Needless to say, we don't do that any more (Thank God), but every year on Christmas Eve, we will gather around the piano and sing through the liturgy of traditional Christmas hymns before opening presents. It's rather lovely, touching, and a true tradition for us in every sense of the word.
• 
  
• Throughout the rest of the holidays, though, you'll hear a strain of one holiday song or another drifting through the house. I can hear my mom singing "Winter Wonderland," as I type, except that she doesn't know any of the words besides "snowman," and is humming everything else in between. We define Christmas songs very loosely, so currently, besides the traditional and contemporary classics, our repertoire consists of:
• - all the songs from Les Miserables ('In My Life' is a particular favorite of mine, with classic holiday lines like, "Every word that he says/is like a dagger in me.")
• - all songs from Frozen, which my parents watched yesterday for the first time (my dad: "I really liked the music. I could understand every word they were saying without the subtitles.")
• - the Canadian national anthem (you know, winter? cold?)
• - the soundtrack from the Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe (truly underrated, fantastic instrumentals)
• - this one, which I heard IRL for the first time this year as a cover by a Southern boy with a twang at a local Philadelphia bar, and heard about on NPR's Pop Culture Happy Hour in a great holiday episode (don't miss the epic rant about Heat Miser and Snow Miser)
• - since we're watching Into The Woods on Christmas Day, I'm thinking that'll be added to the playlist next year as well...
• - I'd like to submit this as a new holiday favorite, soon to be a classic. And this (yay The Killers!):

• - overnight french toast, easily made the night before in preparation for Christmas morning. Even better when made from pannettone (yum.)

Do you have any crazy family traditions of your own?

Merry Christmas Eve, Happy last day of Chanukah, happy holidays, and may you have many more new and wacky traditions in the years to come!

/c

Good Wednesday!

This is one of those composite, short posts, one of those mind dumps of pleasant things to jot down in virtual memory -- a compost if you will. [cue the groans]

Like one of those benign, only mildly creepy individuals who like to retire from the forefront of the world, and simply watch the world from behind the heavy velvet curtain - a group often known as writers, of which I'd like to someday be a part - I like to people-watch, and even more so, to people-listen.

Not in a creepy, sit-so-close-that-I'm-right-on-top-of-you, purposely snooping way, of course. And not like eavesdropping, with its negative connotations. Mostly, it's about filtering the ambient noises coming from my neighbors in coffee shops and public places, and maybe turning down the music on my ever-present headphones. (In my opinion, if you're talking so loudly that everyone can hear you, it's basically public property)

Occasionally, it's disturbing. Often, it's TMI. Occasionally, it yields wonderful little ditties like this, heard while waiting in line at the register at an store.

You know those kids on the street corner, the ones carrying shoeboxes of candy bars and fruit snacks, with a plastic jar for donations for their basketball teams stuffed beside? You know, the ones you sneak by guiltily, because you

• 1) don't have cash, 
• 2) really don't need to have any chocolate or excess sugar lying around
• 3) their adorable, accusing eyes just weigh on your soul?

source

Or those bent little ladies, pushing their granny carts down the clattering metal boxes known as the MTA subways, wrinkled paper signs proclaiming "$2" in thick black Sharpie, taped to rumpled cardboard pallets of what must be Costco-style bulk chocolates, or worse, slightly off-putting self-packaged (?) Twizzlers or soft candies or nuts in opaque sandwich bags?

They should have learned a lesson from this woman, who according this cashier girl, apparently wandered into Philadelphia clothing store in the middle of the day, in the middle of the week, hawking her sugary goods.  Maybe not the best place or time to try to sell her goods.

But her business plan?

"Chocolate baa-aars, I'm selling cho-co-late ba-aars!" (just imagine this in a rich, brassy gospel voice, fabulous vocal runs included.)

"We were totally mocking her the whole day," says the cashier girl, while plonking away at the keys of her register, "like, 'Fold those clo-othes, Jess-i-ca pu-leeease!'"

"Yeah," says the teen customer with wildly grown-out crimson streaks in her hair, but who, despite her youth and misguided hair, speaks for us all, "but did you buy anything? Because that's hilarious - I would!"

"I would have!" replies the shopgirl, "But she was asking for two dollars for a chocolate bar, and why would I do that? The Rite Aid down the street sells them for a dollar." 

(Common sense and fiscal responsibility: nice to hear from the mouths of the babes of America, and from salespeople at that.)

But that doesn't deter this spunky street treat-seller.

"Yeah, they might cheaper, but," says this sharp, shark-eyed vendor of snacks, "will they twerk for you?"

Yeah, kind of obsessed with this song via

No -- no they won't.  Someone put this woman on The Apprentice already!

Moral of the story: If you want to make a sale, always offer a little something extra on the side-- particularly if it's a dance move. (It's worth at least a dollar more!)

Other things making me happy this week [watch out for random links below!]:

a. This wonderful, lovely interview with David Mitchell, the British author whose elegiac and widely differing books should be on everyone's reading list, by Kathryn Schulz, whose every article should be on everyone's reading list, too. (She finds ties in his books with Madeleine L'Engle's Chronos & Kairos series - an amazing observation!)

b. This gorgeous short film with Roberto Bolle & Polina Semionova (give it a chance even if you're not a fan of ballet - this could change your mind. I'll twerk for you if you watch!)

c. This hilarious interview of our favorite, curiously work-unimpeded OB-GYN Mindy Kaling, by it-girl/observer of our generation Lena Dunham, and these golden quotes:

• Dunham: “I love seeing women stand up for things they believe in, teach their daughters how to do the same, prepare meals out of whatever they have in their fridges, wear helmets when they ride their bikes, call BS when they see it, and accept that feminism comes in a lotta different forms.”
• 
  
• Kaling: “I love women who are bosses and who don’t constantly worry about what their employees think of them. I love women who don’t ask, ‘Is that OK?’ after everything they say. I love when women are courageous in the face of unthinkable circumstances, like my mother when she was diagnosed with stage IV pancreatic cancer. Or like Gabrielle Giffords writing editorials for the New York Times about the cowardice of Congress regarding gun laws and using phrases like ‘mark my words’ like she is Clint Eastwood. How many women say stuff like that? I love mothers who teach their children that listening is often better than talking. I love obedient daughters who absorb everything — being perceptive can be more important than being expressive."

d. This cover of "All About That Bass" - the original song offends me musically and lyrically, a little bit, but the existence of this fabulous cover by the fabulously husky voiced Emily Davis covers a multitude of the original song's sins, and makes it so much better.

e. A little good news in troubling times: so glad to see something being done - finally - about the Ebola outbreak, and so proud that someone I know is involved in this cause!

à bientôt, mes chéris! /c

This song was quite literally the only reason I could wake up and crawl out of bed those icy December mornings. The only way I could force my legs to keep mechanically moving down the uncooperative street, trying to breathe in the stinging air. 

That beat. That chorus. The part that goes, “Make that money/watch it burn/sink in the river/the lessons I’ve learned.” (One of the catchiest bridges ever.)

How to recognize a great song: when, at 5 AM, half way to your destination, you're grinning like an idiot and practically dancing down the slick pavements. This is a great song. 

My perception is that OneRepublic is one of those bands that people relatively enjoy, but viscerally label as being “too pop” or “too top 40” to take seriously. It's not the kind of band you name-check at a party. There's this old episode of Gilmore Girls where the aforementioned Gilmore girl, at her friend's indie-rock band's gig, kindly makes conversation with her ex’s new girlfriend, who isn't really enjoying the music. "So what kind of music do you like?" 

“I don’t know,” says the sweet, dull, blonde girl, vaguely, "uh, Michelle Branch, Matchbox 20?“ 

“Geez,” mutters a James-Dean-wannabe character, and there follows a half-hearted attempt of the main character to pacify, though our intrepid heroine clearly agrees with the greasy-coiffed-leather-jacketed fellow.

The point of this tangent being: if that scene had been set in the present, I have this feeling that OneRepublic would have been one of the names slipped into that list.

But you know what? Ryan Tedder knows his way around some good music. 

He spins some incredible melodies and counter-melodies, soaring choruses, and frankly, I’ve never heard better use of dynamics by any other band.  The music is consistently epic, anthemic; it always sounds like it’s reaching upwards towards an ideal. It’s unusually positive for our post-modern culture, but it's just as thoughtful and well-crafted, if not more so. 

(More than, for instance, this eloquent line from Afraid by The Neighbourhood, whose actually poetic Sweater Weather I do like: “It hurts but I won’t fight you / You suck anyway / You make me wanna die.” Nice, guys.)  

And they are both charming and electric live. I had the pleasure of seeing them at their concert in Terminal 5, a really underrated venue, in which they were continuously delightful. The highlights: 

• - their cover of Take Me Out, 
• - the duet with surprise opener Sara Bareilles, 
• - the part where they charmingly passed a bottle of champagne to the crowd and said, "We kind of got in trouble for this at the last concert because there were people who were underaged - so pass this around and only drink it if you’re over 21,"
• - the shirtless gay guy in white pants who was sinuously dancing around in a 2-square-foot space with his hand in the air like it was a nineties' rave, and went around telling everyone that everything was fabulous
• - the cello. Any band with a string instrument is worth a listen.

So, leather-jacket-wearers of the world: I will gladly admit to listening to OneRepublic (you know what, I used to listen to Michelle Branch, too). And now, in the words of Elizabeth Bennet, despise me if you dare!

Mirrors:  

Oh JT. The 20/20 Experience was generally something I didn’t need to experience again, with the exception of Mirrors. The melody is epic and catchy, the beat light and nicely self-contained.The mirror metaphor gets overworked to the point where no songwriter, present or future, can ever use it again, but the lyrics are clever enough to be entertaining:

“Aren’t you something to admire/‘cause your shine is something like a mirror/

…If you ever feel alone and/the glare makes me hard to find/
Just know that I'm always parallel on the other side.”  

Aw. (Those are the perfect forgot-our-anniversary-but-get-out-of-jail-free words, right there.)

It’s also the first time in a long time that JT isn’t singing exclusively in falsetto. That’s kind of exciting. 

And at 5:45, where the part of the video most worth watching begins, he gets to show off some Gene-Kelly-Channing-Tatum moves in a wonderfully and tightly designed set. Will anyone ever say no to watching a good-looking man dancing in a black trench and turtleneck?

The dancers in the video are a bit weird (they’re what I imagine Capitol citizens would look like in a slutty, ill-fitting-hosiery version of The Hunger Games). And, like most of his songs these days, it’s a bit long. JT dear, not everything you perform has to be the musical equivalent of Beowulf.

But the probable reason I actually like and remember this song is because it reminds me of this exchange, one epic August night when two of my far-off friends descended into Philadelphia to rock the town:

[“Mirrors” starts to play in the background]

AH: (looking up upon hearing the song) You know, it’s a commitment.

Me: Oh, yeah. I heard that it was for his wedding to Jessica Biel.  

AH: …no.  I meant that listening to this song is a commitment.

Truer words have never been said.

I'm finally getting around to my memories of 2013! I was starting to forget...

There's so often a song playing in the canopy of my mind that I might as well have an internal soundtrack to my life. I've come to realize that I consist of 80% music, not water; from day to day, many of my life's moments and emotions are defined by and saturated in rhythm, voices, and melodies. As follows, much of 2013 was reflected in the music I heard and loved. Here's one:

Wicked Game - James Vincent McMorrow

About 45% of the new music I “discover” is from watching TV, usually bad TV. This is no exception. But if there’s good-bad TV, So You Think You Can Dance would be it, and since in my alternate universe life (where polar vortexes don't exist and I always make wise and perfect decisions), I would have become a ballerina instead of a doctor, I not-so-secretly love this show, and I very secretly try to learn the choreography. 

But how could you not? Watch the video above, listen to that beautiful song and watch this exquisite interpretation. 

If your heart doesn't ache a little after watching that, you don't have one. (Doctor says.)

I downloaded this song the next day and listened to it for about 8 hours straight. I kid you not. (I am one of those people who greedily latch on to melodies and suck each nuanced pause and instrumental riff dry until it's memorized in my own veins; a musical vampire.) 

What's more: one day later, while looking for other versions of this song, I realized this song was itself a cover of an 80s song. I still loved it - and given my disdain for the eighties, that means something.

This lovely cover was a gateway drug to the rest of JVM’s beautiful music: lush, lavish, and quiet melodies laced with that touching, broken voice. Undeniably rooted folk, but with some intriguingly r&b touches: addictive, evocative, and extraordinarily harmonic. 

And he has a wonderful new album out: check it out. (spotify/amazon)

Welcome to my yearly rant on Christmas songs - and my yearly blog post, I guess.  Is a blog really a blog when one only posts once a year?  Does this count as persevering in my attempts to be a writer/cultural commentator (and maybe some day work for NYMag/Slate/NYT/New Yorker, in ascending fantastical order)?  What is the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything?   

All unanswerable questions, that.  

What is answerable is what particular Christmas songs elicit from the depths of my soul an inexplicable, disproportionate rage, which manifests itself in that pained half-sneer endemic to all New Yorkers, a clenching of the chest, a rapid means of escape (through the skip button or the door), and headache that sounds like a continuous scream of “WHHHYYYYY?!?”

(Since residency, I’ve had a lot of anger issues.)  

Being composed of 80% music instead of water, I could probably talk endlessly about songs I dislike and like, even holiday ones.  But evidently I have to save this material for a yearly blog post.  So let’s discuss “Last Christmas.”

I can’t even type that without an involuntary grimace.

The hate probably boils down to five things:  1)  it’s typical 80s music fare, 2)  the band name is ridiculous, 3)  the lyrics are even worse, 4)  it’s pure camp, and 5)  it’s not really a Christmas song at all.

Despite being born in the (late) eighties, I developed no love for 80s music.  I don’t know why.  Maybe it’s the heavy use of synth.  Maybe it’s the straight beat.  Maybe it’s the complete lack of cynicism when the singer looks into the camera with big teased hair, and earnestly croons, “If you’re lost you can look and you will find me/time after time.”  NO. So clearly Wham! already has that not going for them.  

And this video.  The hair.  The color-mismatched eyebrows.  The breezy, open, button-down shirt.  The gross misuse of overlays and fade-ins.  You can’t look away, can ya?

Also, the band is called Wham!.  Why?(!)  Did they get slapped so hard for making horrible, cheesy music that they had to add some random exclamation point to the end of their name?  The only reason they get any sort of pardon is because this band gave rise to running joke that is George-Michael Bluth on Arrested Development. 

But probably the most infuriating part is the lyrics, the meat of any song.  Well yes, George Michael, if you just randomly give your heart away at Christmas, and then revenge-give it to someone else the following year, you will be playing this song on the world’s smallest violin EVERY SINGLE YEAR.  I’m sure you thought that last year’s girl was “someone special” too.  Another unanswerable question:  how much of a dunce can one person be?  (At least he admits to “what a fool [he’s] been.”)

I’m also pretty sure we can banish “fire in his heart,” “soul of ice,” and “once bitten, twice shy” from the song lyric compendium for now and forevermore.  

Also, if anyone can explain what “A face on a lover with a fire in his heart/A man under cover but you tore me apart,” means, you're a better man than I.  Even my extraordinary talent for BS-ing my merry way through classes involving poetry and prose analysis have failed me.  My guesses:  he’s wearing a mask or attempting a scene from Faceoff?  the woman he’s in love with acts heartless like a man or is a transvestite? 

    

I don’t think there is a single arrangement of this song where someone is not singing this without eighties’ style melodrama.  There’s sentimental, and there’s saccharine.  It’s not a surprise, then, that most people who choose to cover this song are of an overly dramatic bent (Savage Garden, Taylor Swift, Lea Michele - though it’s a given that if she sings anything, it’s automatically going to be on histrionic overdrive), but it is seemingly impossible for even serious singers not to act like total hams while singing this.  Every singer will inevitably develop that baby whine of a catch in his or her voice during the course of this song, usually during “gave it awwa-ay“ or “someone spe-shul” 

Florence maybe gets away with it simply because she is Florence, and this is just how she sings: awesomely.  

Not even dub step is going to save this, Ariana Grande, although I guess bastardizing the verses might temper it slightly.  

The xx are not a band I would associate with wallowing drama, and honestly, I don’t even know what is going on with this cover.  

Christmas songs should meet at least one of these (personal and arbitrary) criteria:  the lyrics should be actually about Christmas, and the song should “be merry and bright.”  If the word “Christmas” was not in this song, it would be just a typical eighties’ song about heartbreak.  This is just blatant holiday profiteering.  Just think of all the royalties they get every year from this festering turd of a record.  

  

And if you’re going borrow on the Christmas spirit to make some change, shouldn’t it be at least a little uplifting?  Sure, I’m melancholic, but even I don’t think regret, jealousy, and revenge should be part of the Christmas liturgy.  Granted, there are sad Christmas songs (you can’t get much more depressing than the original lyrics to “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”) but at least these songs fulfill the first criteria:  they’re actually about Christmas.  

To close on a less negative note, in keeping with the spirit of the season, here’s a collection of Christmas-related good reads, interesting song renditions, and a Millennial classic that will never grow old, because

...all I want for Christmas, is you!

Snow Patrol - Just Like Christmas

Death Cab for Cutie - Christmas (Please Come Home)

Sugar & The Hi-Lows - Jingle Bells

The Civil Wars - I Heard The Bells On Christmas Day

Chris Klimek:  All I Want For Christmas Is A New Song - Why the Last Great New Christmas Song Was Written 19 Years Ago

Jonathan Fischer:  Our Best Chance for a New Christmas Standard  

Max Blau:  The Worst Original Christmas Songs of the Last 10 Years : some amazing stuff in here - I didn't even know R Kelly had a Christmas song.  

Merry Christmas, and see ya at New Years!

In honor of their rise in recognition, which I have happily and feverishly tracked over the last year; their 2012 Grammy nomination for Best New Artist; and the fact that I just bought tickets for their concert in February and am VERY! EXCITED!, this week's pick is "Flowers in Your Hair," by the Lumineers.

It's been amazing seeing them go from some band in Denver without a proper website to a Grammy nomination.  Whether it's the wave of Americana bluegrass sweeping the airwaves (Mumford and Sons, Avett Brothers, The Civil Wars) or whether it's increased exposure of their songs through clever ads (Bing, an instrumental on Blue Moon) or cheesy CW TV shows (humbly, I confess that this is how I came upon their music), the Lumineers are having a great year, deservedly so.

While the most well-known and popular song of theirs, "Ho Hey," is also required listening, if only for their reference to the Chinatown buses, and the awesome lyrics, "I'll be standing on Canal/and Bowery," which is one of those lyrics meant to be completely misheard, "Flowers in Your Hair" is standard Lumineers fare:  straightforward, simple lyrics that yield deeper ideas and a sense of humor; charming banjo-guitar-cello-driven melodies; and a unaffected, spirited rhythm that simply requires foot-stomping and hand-clapping.

Other required listening:  Dead Sea, Ho Hey, Stubborn Love

Happy (or is it merry) listening!

aka What I'm Almost Sure in the Blogosphere is Known as a Cheater Post

But hey.  At least I'm persevering, right?

Today's song, while not particularly esoteric or profound, is fun, energetic, and has been not only "that song" that I end up playing on repeat beyond the auditory saturation point, but is the song I use to pump myself up before I step onto the Labor and Delivery floor.

That means this is a Big. Deal.

I was introduced to it a week ago at the Move DC march on Washington, held by Invisible Children, a group mostly known for viral video Kony 2012 and, unfortunately, its founder's viral nervous breakdown.  It should be better known for its stand against children soldiers and sex trafficking, which is being perpetrated by the IRA and its leader, Joseph Kony.  Regardless of criticism leveled against the founder and foundation, it is a great cause, and it was a great rally, which will be the subject of another post.

BUT, even better, it introduced me to "I Knew You Were Trouble" by T Swift.

I know.  I know.  But it's good.  Give it a listen.  Or two.  Or three...

(Final thoughts:  This version is pitched--the semi-'dub step' is more pronounced in the original.  I am a not-so-closet Taylor Swift fan--can't help it.  I think it's about John Mayer.  Next Tuesday, there might be some pretentiousness and "some indie record that is much cooler than mine," to quote Ms. Swift herself.)

Yes/no?