In case you missed it (and assuming it interests you), here’s some of what my band got up to over the past 12 months, via TikTok.
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I guess after all that talk of burning longships in yesterday’s post, I felt a little guilty, so in the last post of this series, I’m giving the Scandinavians their due.
ABBA’s “Happy New Year” is, in some ways, the perfect song for January 1, opening with lyrics that refer directly to the festivities of the night before: “No more champagne/And the fireworks are through.”
From there, though, things take a decidedly darker turn, as the narrator (via lyricist Björn Ulvaeus) struggles to leaven his despair over the state of the world with a glimmer of hope for the future:
May we all have a vision now and then
Of a world where every neighbour is a friend
Happy new year
Happy new year
May we all have our hopes, our will to try
If we don’t we might as well lay down and dieIn the next verse, Ulvaeus presents a grim vision of a reality in which “man is a fool…never knowing he’s astray” in a “brave new world”. Whether he’s borrowing that phrase from Aldous Huxley’s dystopian novel of the same title or going straight to the source—William Shakespeare’s tragicomic play The Tempest—it’s a pointed indictment of the times. And this was in 1980! Imagine what he’d have to say if he were writing this song today. Or, actually, it’s probably best not to imagine that.
Sweden’s biggest cultural export and one of the most successful acts in the history of popular music, ABBA isn’t typically remembered for having especially topical lyrics. However, “Happy New Year” would not be Ulvaeus’s last flirtation with dark themes. ABBA’s final album—until 2021’s Voyage, that is—1981’s The Visitors, explored marital dissolution and Cold War militarism, among other uplifting topics.
The LP’s title track, which was released as a single, was sung from the point of view of political dissidents facing oppression by an authoritarian regime. No countries were named in the lyrics, but those commies in the Soviet Union were so vain that they probably thought this song was about them. (The album was banned in the USSR is what I’m getting at there.)
These walls have witnessed all the anguish of humiliation
And seen the hope of freedom glow in shining faces
And now they’ve come to take me
Come to break me
And yet it isn’t unexpected
I have been waiting for these visitorsThat is one seriously bleak song! And since none of the above is the most upbeat note upon which to begin a new year, here’s an ABBA song that won’t make you think of anything other than dancing. And perhaps feeling the beat from the tambourine.
Happy New Year!
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Lang may yer lum reek…
If you read that and immediately thought, “Wi’ ither folks’ coal!” then you’re probably Scottish and know that this is a traditional Hogmanay salutation. (It translates to “Long may your chimney smoke…with other people’s coal!”—but don’t ever dare suggest that Scots are “thrifty” unless you’re spoiling for a bout of fisticuffs.)
For the non-Gaels in the room, Hogmanay is what Scottish people call New Year’s Eve, an event traditionally celebrated with festive gatherings, fireworks, and the singing of “Auld Lang Syne”.
If you think that sounds a lot like what North Americans get up to on the last night of the year, that’s a fair perception. On the other hand, the Scots really, really like to burn stuff on Hogmanay. In Aberdeenshire, for instance, celebrants assemble bundles of chicken wire stuffed with flammable materials that they set ablaze and swing over their heads as they march to the harbour, into which they hurl their fireballs.
Edinburgh’s annual celebrations include a massive torchlight parade of folks dressed up like Vikings, who set a replica of a Viking longship on fire. Which, quite frankly, seems like an insane thing to do, albeit perfectly understandable when you consider that the Scottish people are, collectively, insane. (And I can get away with saying that, being descended from some of the craziest, including this guy.)
Lee Kindness, CC BY-SA 3.0 , via Wikimedia Commons As for “Auld Lang Syne”, it was introduced by Scotland’s bard, Robert Burns, in the late 18th century. Burns sent a copy of the song to the Scots Musical Museum in 1788, along with a note reading “The following song, an old song, of the olden times, and which has never been in print, nor even in manuscript until I took it down from an old man.” While Burns’s version does bear some similarities to an older poem, Burns scholars generally agree that he probably wrote most of it himself.
Arguably the most famous rendition of “Auld Lang Syne’ is a 1947 recording by Guy Lombardo and his Royal Canadians; this is the version played in Times Square annually as the ball drops to mark the start of the new year.
Lombardo and his band got a lot of mileage out of Burns’s song, playing it on radio and/or TV every year from 1929 to 1976 as part of their annual New Year’s Eve broadcasts. They also released at least four other recorded versions of it. Were Burns still alive today, a single royalty cheque could fund the razing of enough longships to constitute a declaration of war against Scandinavia.
In more recent years, one of the most popular versions of “Auld Lang Syne” is that sung by Mairi Campbell (who recorded it as part of a duo called The Cast alongside her husband, Dave Francis). The Cast’s version, which uses a melody that predates the more commonly heard one, was featured in the 2008 Sex and the City movie, but we won’t hold that against it.
And just for fun, here’s Lombardo’s very first recording of “Auld Lang Syne”, released in 1939:
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I really wanted to post Ella Fitzgerald’s version of “What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve?” (because that’s tomorrow night, in case you’ve lost track), but there’s no video for it, so I was forced to go see what Holidays-and-Observances.com had for me.
Turns out that December 30 is the Festival of Enormous Changes at the Last Minute. A festival, no less! Here’s hoping it involves what would generally be considered “festivities”—you know, family gatherings, sing-alongs, airings of grievances, maybe a roast beast. (Confession time: roast beast is a feast I can’t stand in the least.)
Let’s see what Google can tell us…
The consensus seems to be that the Festival of Enormous Changes at the Last Minute is an occasion to reflect on all of the goals you never got around to tackling during the preceding 12 months, and to then make “enormous changes” in order to accomplish them before the end of year.
Well, that’s no fun! No one’s going to bake cookies or go out carolling for that. Therefore, I deem it “not a festival”. Still, it gives me an excuse to post the video for “Something Better Change” by the Stranglers.
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It’s a tad early—much too early in the game, if you will—to post New Year’s-themed videos, and to be honest I’m a feeling a little bit lazy. So let’s just say that today is National Chocolate Day. Unless that was yesterday. Or maybe it’s actually on October 28.
This is not to be mistaken for World Chocolate Day, which is on July 7. As Wikipedia helpfully points out, “The observance of World Chocolate Day dates back to 2009 and is not to be confused with International Chocolate Day.” Which is September 13. And before you ask me what the distinction is between a “world” observance and an “international” one, let me assure you that I haven’t the foggiest.
What I can tell you is that in Latvia, they celebrate World Chocolate Day on July 11. Leave it to those tricksy Latvians to mark a “world” day on a different date from the rest of the world.
Anyway, here’s a song:
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Today is National Short Film Day, and while I’m pretty sure that “national” refers to the United States (the observance was started by the New York-based Film Movement), let’s not let that stop us from celebrating here in Canada. Or wherever you are as you read this.
Moreover, National Short Film Day was inspired by an event that happened in France. On December 28, 1896, Auguste and Louis Lumière held the world’s first paid public motion-picture exhibition. They screened 10 (very) short films, several of which you can watch below:
The Lumière brothers made their films using a cinematograph, a camera that also functioned as a film developer and a projector. One notable attendee at this first screening, held at Salon Indien du Grand Café in Paris, was Georges Méliès, who went on to become a pioneering filmmaker in his own right. Méliès made more than 500 films, but is probably best remembered for 1902’s A Trip to the Moon, inspired by the writings of Jules Verne.
In 1996, Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris drew inspiration from A Trip to the Moon when they directed the video for the Smashing Pumpkins’ “Tonight, Tonight”. Trivia time: the video stars real-life married couple Tom Kenny and Jill Talley, who not only were castmates on Mr. Show, but also went on to voice SpongeBob and Karen Plankton, respectively, on SpongeBob SquarePants.
For the sake of comparison, here’s A Trip to the Moon itself:
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And you thought the holidays were over! (Except for New Year’s, of course. ) Perhaps you forgot about Kwanzaa. Since today is the second day of Kwanzaa (which continues through January 1), I thought I ought to mark the occasion.
Turns out that there aren’t very many good Kwanzaa songs! But I did find this one, which isn’t bad!
For those not familiar with it, Kwanzaa is an African-American celebration of culture and unity. It was created in the 1960s by a Black separatist named Maulana Karenga. He is a pretty controversial figure! Then again, so was Jesus, and we still celebrate his holiday, don’t we?
Less controversial is Howdy Doody, largely due to the fact that he’s a puppet. Why am I bringing him up? Well, it’s also Howdy Doody Day, marking the fact that the character made his television debut on this day in 1947, on a program called Puppet Playhouse. Later retitled Howdy Doody, this ran until 1960, cementing Howdy as a generational touchstone for Baby Boomers (and some of their Silent Generation siblings).
Incidentally, the week after the final Howdy Doody episode, NBC premiered The Shari Lewis Show. Puppeteer Lewis is remembered best for her character Lamb Chop, who debuted on Captain Kangaroo in 1956. That show was created by the man who played Captain Kangaroo himself, Bob Keeshan—who got his start on television playing Clarabell the Clown on…drum roll, please…Howdy Doody. Kid’s TV was a pretty small industry in those days.
Howdy Doody didn’t make a lot of music videos (or any at all, most likely), but here’s the very episode of Puppet Playhouse, for any nostalgic boomers who might be reading.
Not too long ago I wrote a pretty fun article about the early development of television for Mental Floss. You can read that here.
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Did already feature Low in this series of blog posts? I sure did! And I didn’t even get around to the band’s two best seasonal songs—which are, of course, “Just Like Christmas” and “Some Hearts (at Christmas Time)”.
But there aren’t that many songs about what happens after the holiday, so while this song has a “visualizer” rather than a video, I’m posting it anyway, thus breaking more than one of my self-imposed rules.
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Okay, I am actually going to keep this one short. What more appropriate song to mark Christmas than “The Christmas Song” itself? This is the definitive version, and I won’t entertain any arguments to the contrary.
Merry Christmas, dear reader.
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Dear reader, I understand that the next few days are likely to be busy ones, so I promise to keep these posts short. (I do intend to keep this countdown going until New Year’s Day, but these are my last chances to post Christmas songs.)
This means that I won’t be able to get into the full back story of “Christmas Eve/Sarajevo 12/24”, but here are the basic facts:
The song, which incorporates parts of “Carol of the Bells” and “God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen”, was first released by Savatage (a heavy-metal band featuring future members of Trans-Siberian Orchestra) on a 1995 album called Dead Winter Dead.
That’s a rather grim title, but it’s a fitting one, given the subject matter; Dead Winter Dead is a concept album about the Bosnian War. “Christmas Eve/Sarajevo 12/24” (re-released by TSO on its 1996 debut album, Christmas Eve and Other Stories) was inspired in part by the real-life story of Vedran Smailović, a Bosnian musician who played his cello in ruined buildings during the siege of Sarajevo. Smailović’s story also inspired the novel The Cellist of Sarajevo by Steven Galloway.
Okay, I promised to keep this short. Enjoy the music, and don’t forget to get to bed nice and early tonight. After all, Santa Claus won’t come until you’re sleeping.
John Lucas 