21 December 2008
Christmas songs are a nightmare for me, as a club jock. At this time of year I'm asked by fifty per cent of the punters to play loads of them, while the other half I could confidently say absolutely hate them and make it plain that they do. So it's lose-lose for me.
Another problem is that with few exceptions, they're really hard to dance to. Do you want to sing loudly or dance wildly? Again it's lose-lose for me - put on an undanceable Christmas song and the dancers complain they can't move to it; leave out the undanceable songs and the festive fetishists moan that they can't sing along.
Phil Spector's album is the bane of my life at this time of year. The songs are wonderful, the production fantastic, but only when you put them on in a club, at some persuasive woman's intoxicated behest, do you realise that a) the sound quality doesn't carry into sophisticated amps; b) you can't dance to any of them; and c) nobody knows the words. That's lose-lose-lose.
Then there are the depressing Christmas songs. I'm forever amazed that radio stations play the records by Band Aid (any incarnation), Mud and numerous others. Christmas may, yes, have messages and meanings and it is about thinking of your fellow man and the more unfortunate, but people lucky enough to have fun at Christmas shouldn't be made to feel guilty.
The only truly danceable songs are the ones by Mariah Carey and Shakin' Stevens, neither of which are much better than hideous when played really loudly. I'll be glad when it's over.