There is a television commercial for a room air-freshener that has music that makes me lift my head, smile, and lip-sync. I am on record as one who finds our national rush to holiday spending a grumpy-maker: Ho-ho, whatever. But a section of my brain is dedicated to “all things sentimental,” and certain kinds of music have sentimental value to me. Christmas music is at the top of the list, and this commercial for an air-freshener has a Christmas theme.
The holiday shopping season for many retailers is the time when they receive the bulk of their revenue, and for many, the first time the operation performs “in the black.” The day after Thanksgiving was designated as “Black Friday” for that reason. This year, the span of days between Thanksgiving and the traditional start of Christmas shopping is the shortest that it has been in a long time. Retailers, in an attempt to extend the shopping period, have responded by offering “pre-Black Friday” pricing and opening the stores on Thanksgiving Day. While I am sympathetic toward those workers who have been conscripted into customer service on turkey day, the bonus for me is that the music I enjoy gets started earlier, and I get slightly jollier.
The commercials for The Vienna Boys’ Choir, scheduled to perform on November 29th at The Walker Theatre Center, reminds me of an album — yes, album — that I got when I was in art school in the 60s. “Missa Luba” showcased the performances of a group of African boys called “Les Troubadours du Roi Baudouin.” One side was “a mass sung in pure Congolese style,” and the other included “native songs of the Congo.” The singing was purely angelic. (I have lost the album, but I bought a CD by the group, called “Missa Luba: An African Mass.” It is a poor imitation of the album I remember.) Though the music is not “Christmas,” the singing is the thing.
I have no affiliation with any particular religious group, but I have lifted my voice in song in many churches. I can also rock “Hava Nagila.” My mother spent years in oblique inquiry: “Have you found a church home?” (Well, maybe not so oblique.) When I told her that I was not looking, she told me to find a church with a good choir, and join to sing. She figured that if I sang in the choir, I would soon be humming in the pews. This plot failed, but I sing all the time, everywhere. My eldest daughter, when we lived in Southern Indiana, once volunteered me as a soloist for a program at a church in Louisville Ky. A “show and sing,” if you will. My co-workers at the “Red-Star, Christmas Parade Store” had to endure my Christmas-time beltings of “Oh, Holy Night.” Many encouraged me to sing it at full volume, no doubt placing wagers on which of my bosses would be the first to frown: when at full bay, I can lift drop-ceiling tiles.
Despite the fact that I become “Captain Grumpy” at Christmastime, I am “Captain Songsinger” when it comes to Christmas songs, all of them, all the time, with “Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer” the lone exception. I’d like to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony… (Wait: I think I popped another commercial plug in here.) I am going to find some neighbors in my micro-hood and get some candles and hats and mufflers and march from door to door singing carols and praying for hot chocolate.
Maybe they’ll let me solo on “Adeste Fideles.”