Of mice, snowmen and musical moons

Suitably seasonal yet not saccharine and treacly like the garbage played in public spaces. An annual complaint, for there the dreaded earworms strike, and the lean one sure does not want to spend hours with Frosty, subliminally told to be jolly under the holly.

Three full years later the slender songster has matured somewhat. A fine phrase for those who have not seen you for a long time.

Hence the CD that dominated the playlist that miserable evening three years ago, Twisted Sister’s “Twisted Christmas”. Highly recommended for those who abhor horrid covers of “classics.” Just listen to the metal masters’ vibrant version of “Silver Bells” and you will never want to listen to the original again. Although, why would you want to? (Curious historical trivia footnote: Twisted Sister hails from the aptly named burg of Ho-Ho-Kus, New Jersey. Look it up if you doubt the musical magi, and tell me that they are not qualified to interpret Yuletide tunes. As well, no Sopranos suffered in the making of that album.)

That was then. Three full years later the slender songster has matured somewhat. A fine phrase for those who have not seen you for a long time. Ain’t getting old, just getting around to aging gracefully. The isolation of the corona period led to the acceptance of new technology and a return to old interests. The first meant developing a slight dependence, addiction is harsh, on the computer for music. YouTube is a wonderful repository of tunes rarely heard on the radio, often the first place that one heard a classic. Paired with this development was figuring out how to Spotify (to the Bose, what sound compared to the ancient computer!) and streaming CBC’s 200 choices from the spectrum. Man, no advertising to ruin the feeling. Just needs tweaking to avoid the twerking.