So, I'm downstairs this morning doing an umpteenth load of laundry and figuratively shaking my fist at the radio. The super in my building has the laundry room wired for sound and has super-glued the dial onto 106.7 Lite FM, which is fair enough, it being his radio and all. The problem here, however, is that said station plays NOTHING BUT CHRISTMAS MUSIC AROUND THE DAMN CLOCK starting on freakin' Thanksgiving. As such, any time we have to do the laundry -- which, with two kids in the house, means practically once a damn day -- we're subjected to tireless airings of "Winter Wonderland,""Let It Snow," "Silver Bells," "Sleigh Ride" and the like in a sickly variety of insipidly "re-imagined" permutations (slick R'n'B, melismatic Country, ersatz Hip Hop, etc.) Suffice to say, it makes me want to tie the sheets I'm there to clean into a taut noose to hang myself with.
In any case, there I was this morning, and the signature bells of Band Aid's 1984 classic (if you're my age), "Do They Know It's Christmas?" come on. Now, like most folks from my generation, I find it hard not to love this song. It immediately transports me back to my doe-eyed high school days, no matter how many bajillion times I hear it. Sure, it acted as the launching pad for a thousand ill-considered ego-projects (notably the absolutely unforgivable "We Are The World" by USA for Africa, which is inarguably the worst song ever recorded by purportedly sentient human beings), but I still have a soft spot for Band Aid.
But when was the last time you really listened to the the song? Next time you hear it -- which will probably be within the hour, let's face it -- pause a moment to reflect on the lyrics. They're naive, presumptuous and not just a little ridiculous (I mean, of course there won't be any fuckin' snow in Africa! etc.) I'm especially puzzled by Bono's star-making turn on the mic, wherein after lamenting "the clanging chimes of doom" that ring in world of "dread and fear," the singer robustly implores you to give thanks to the evidently merciless deity doling out those cruel punishments on "the other ones" for sparing you from the same fate. That's not really very Christmassy, is it?
Well, such quibbles aside, I defy you not to belt along with it whenever it plays. And tonight -- should you choose to accept the mission -- you'll have another opportunity as my friend Ben assumes the microphone in Bono's stately stead at this afore-cited event. And while there may not be any snow in Africa this Christmastime, NY1 is calling for snow this evening on Delancey Street. What's stoppin' ya?
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