Christmas ain’t always pretty and happy. In fact for many it is a downright glum and nasty time of the year, no merry-making for those on skid row, without jobs or shelter, who are substance dependent or just plain down on their luck. Pays to remember that after the taste of liberally laced eggnog has long been washed away by dirty rain. Replaced by bills to pay for impulse purchases as well as those made necessary by family. At this time of year few of those on the ropes have any expectations. Bah, expectorations are more like it.

Hence ‘tis never been curious that some sad songs hit home more than others. If only because so many of the Christmas classics are about insipid, empty, meaningless messages. Temporary escape if one does not follow the inherent belief of being saved year-round. Consider the enduring appeal of The Pogues’ “Fairytale of New York”, one of Ireland’s most loved Christmas songs. When frontman Shane MacGowan died less than a month ago the song once again reached out to many beyond the Emerald Isle.

MacGowan, ironically enough, was born on Christmas day of 1957. The song morphs from the opening gloomy lines of Christmas Eve in the drunk tank to a sprightly back-and-forth reel. Yet it is all about how youthful hopes are crushed by alcohol and drugs. “Happy Christmas your arse” is how MacGowan sings it while the bells are ringing out for Christmas day.

Another seasonal realist is Tom Waits. Just listen to his “Christmas card from a hooker in Minneapolis”. Merry and jolly it ain’t. These two songs are well known. The hoopla around MacGowan’s passing and the fact that “Fairytale” was performed at his funeral was almost too much for the slimster. Hence a dive into the dusty vaults of vinyl and memory, both of which are at times scratchy but by no means faulty. Listenable to, in other words. Without becoming maudlin and sentimental.

John Prine’s classic “Christmas in Prison” (“and the food was real good, we had turkey and pistols carved out of wood”) popped to mind. Yet another joyous seasonal ode. Prine was, alas, a casualty of the first Covid year, not making it to Xmas as the virus stilled forever his imaginative musical skills, gravelly voice and wonderful lyrics. In this number the folksinger beseeched “wait wild eternity, old Mother Nature’s got nothing on me.” Well, she did. And his fans had a Blue Christmas (sorry, Elvis) without Prine that year.

And then this year’s winner on the slimster’s year-end list for best bummer Yuletide song, one that was little known outside North America for decades, even though Sixto Rodriguez, a Detroit-based folksinger released the album “Coming from reality” in 1971. Good title for the record, great tunes, but it received little attention here. But Sugarman, Rodriguez’ first stage name, as promoters did not think that his Mexican ancestry would sell did find fans in South Africa, and quite curiously in Scandinavia. The singer-songwriter was unaware of his fame there for decades until his daughter found a fan site on the internet. Visit sugarman.org for more on Rodriguez.

Consider the opening lines of “Cause”: “’Cause I lost my job two weeks before Christmas, And I talked to Jesus at the sewer. And the Pope said it was none of his God-damned business.” Enter the necessary Christmas crutch, alcohol. “While the rain drank champagne My Estonian Archangel got me wasted ‘Cause the sweetest kiss I ever got Is the one I’ve never tasted.”

Then consider another cut from that album, with a psychedelic title: “Heikki’s suburbia bus tour”. Who was Sugar Man Sixto’s heavenly being? Estonians started asking questions. Which led to some investigative reporting. Thanks to the ERR, Estonia’s national broadcaster’s program “Pealtnägija” (bystander, observer) we know that the Archangel in “Cause” was Heikki Kansa. Born in 1943 in Viljandi, moved to the US as a five-year-old, and what a life he led. Among his many accomplishments he befriended Rodriguez. Find out how Detroit’s Estonians filled in the blanks here: https://news.err.ee/114029/vid...

For those who have never heard of Sixto Rodriguz or his well-crafted songs consider the above the lean machine’s year-end good deed, part of keeping track of the influence some Estonians have on popular music. And yup, cannot help it, it is coming from reality. Who’da thunk of such an obscure connection, resulting in a great song? Mystery solved, thanks to the sleuths at ERR.

OTEPÄÄ SLIM

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