Walk the walk.
Talk the talk.
Carol the carol.
After last week’s bloviations about Christmas caroling protocol, I couldn’t let the season pass me by without getting out from behind the laptop and putting in some door-to-door song work myself.
I hadn’t attempted the feat since I was young, years ago, surrounded on all sides by a darling family. Since no one wants a surprise, solo, middle-aged white male on their doorstep spouting religious screeds in 2024, I “pretty please” invited my wife to brave the mean streets of Cambridge on a winter’s eve. She dials my weird factor way down. Love you, babe!
Without mentioning the street name, let’s just say that we hit side streets off a Cambridge “Thoreau”-fare. Get it? Visiting side streets with dead ends is the total pro caroling move. Otherwise you’re trying to sing over too much passing traffic, a real Yuletide mood killer.
We set off on a weekend around the hour that people who were committing to a night at home would be dug in, getting comfortable and ready to receive strangers at their doorstep.
Our manner of dress was what I would call neoclassical caroling vestiture. Sweaters, knit caps, scarves, coats, mittens if you got ‘em. Enough wool to provide the faint aroma of a Dickensian yesteryear without completely sinking into the full-bodied treacle of historical reenactment.
The songbook consisted of a single tune, “Jingle Bells,” which we toted along with us on a printed page. (Don’t read lyrics off your smartphone.) Familiar, nonthreatening, nonproselytizing. And the full song is way longer than you remember. So if we were getting good “fan reaction,” we could keep reeling out the verses. Otherwise, it’s a nudge, nudge, wink, wink and we wind it down early.
So how’d it go?
To be honest, there were a lot of dark windows and doors. One lady talked to us through an intercom, which we briefly considered caroling through before moving on. And we didn’t get through all the verses at any of the doors that opened to us. Those that did greet us were marvelous models of graciousness. Which, you know, didn’t result in us getting invited inside for hot cocoa and Christmas cookies. So instead we treated ourselves to martinis afterward.
Maybe we were a little early in the caroling season? Don’t despair. As Maga heads have assured us, the War On Christmas is over. By the time you read this, we’ll all be neck deep in Caroling Country. Any artist worth their salt knows it takes time to build a fanbase. I assured each and every Cantabrigian I met that I’d “be back next year,” which I can only assume lifted their spirits.
Hit this
Friday: Hungover for the Holidaze! (Lilypad, Cambridge)
We’re all in a daze during the holidays, for sure, but if you’re still hungover by the start of show at 7 p.m., we need to talk. And we’ll all be checking our watches closely because this punk rock blunderbuss is scheduled to last only one hour. Enough time to rotate in three bands? No stage banter allowed. Johnnie and the Foodmasters are in their 10th year of mauling bopper classics from the ’50s and ’60s. Their version of “Be My Baby” is more Wall than Sound. Whyte Lipstick and Puke Pisstols pack their stockings with local punk luminaries – I won’t ruin the surprise.
Saturday: Anngelle Wood’s 12th Annual Spectacular Gift Drive For DCF Wonderfund (Lizard Lounge, Cambridge)
Ignore the typo at the Eventbrite page. This show is a gift drive for “DCF” Wonderfund, not “DOF.” Can’t forget the “Children”! Go buy a ticket and bring an unwrapped gift for local foster families. The musical showcase features a rootsy, rocksy lineup of OldJack, Airport and Adi Sun. Shout out to organizer and Boston Emissions DJ Anngelle Wood, who also steers the ship for the annual Rock N Roll Rumble. Let’s not fail to observe that The Ghouls, winner of the Rumble back in May, went on to win Rock Artist of the Year at the Boston Music Awards. Is there a Rumble-to-BMAs pipeline? Beats the school-to-prison pipeline.
Monday: Áine Minogue (Club Passim, Cambridge)
Traditional Irish musician Áine Minogue has come a long way from her native Tipperary. But what travels better than Christmas music during Christmastime? She fell in love with the harp while at boarding school in Galway and honed her craft at famous Bunratty Castle, whose elves have been reviewed as “miserable,” “lack luster” [sic] and “flat” on Tripadvisor. From behind her 47 strings, Minogue weaves a holiday music fantasy for humans and hobbits alike. A sound that Entertainment Weekly called a “breath of fresh Éire.” The hits keep coming, ladies and gentlemen!
Live at The Jungle: a Winter Showcase
The holidays are a time for getting together and making merry.
To some that means sharing a home-cooked meal with family, or a peaty glass of scotch by a roaring hearth with friends, half-listening to a seasonal playlist streaming off a laptop, trading old stories.
To others that means booking the musical equivalent of 16-car pileup at The Jungle. “A Winter Showcase” gathered 16 artists – 16! (not to mention your host, Dblockthaparty) – to share the stage for three hours at Union Square’s favorite k-hole. Plus wall-to-wall vintage arcade games provided by Super Party Bros.
You already guessed which door I walked through. Team Sensory Overload.
Turns out it was a mellower Monday night kind of gig. Artists rolling through the door “open mic” style, drip by drip, for a night of rhymes and chill beats. A warm winter wonderland of mostly hip-hop from local MCs. Shout out to Maxedout, Dying Star, King Loopz and pop curveball Zach Vincent.
And turns out it was the last Monday night at The Jungle for a while. The venue will go dark on the first night of the weekday for the foreseeable future. For all the usual reasons. I don’t know if you noticed, but it’s hard as fuck to get people to come out on these nights. Artists and audiences who come out for shows at the start of the week are cut from a special type of cloth. Treasure them.
Michael Gutierrez is an author, educator, activist and editor-in-chief at Hump Day News.
A stronger
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