PROG XMAS

by rocktrauma

PROG XMAS by Dan Gleason

Christmas music is pretty much the lowest form of expression any singer/songwriter can indulge in. That’s why so many country stars have made whole albums of the shit- they love easy, and they understand that there is no underestimating the public intelligence. Kip Winger loves Christmas, I guess- that must be why he sang about it- and Billy Squier made a full record of yule tunes, roping in such cats as Seger and Thorogood to assist him. These are the types of mistakes people make when they really want money. Luckily this pagan celebration had never touched my sacred prog rock, or so I believed. That is until the day my former co-worker LaMorris Richmond confronted me with the horror of a Christmas c.d. made by members of Kansas, along with John Wetton of King Crimson and Asia fame.

For scientific reasons I elected to borrow this recording. And amazingly, it was even worse than I expected- a sonic disturbance unmatched- never before had such an aural injustice been served up in compact disk form. Each song more painful than the last- inane riffing forming into a boring whole- I remember one of the tunes sounded a lot like the Little Drummer Boy, so I took brief solace in the misheard lyrics- ‘pa- rum- pa- pum- pum- mouth full of cum.’ But this joy in the music of the season would not last- the carols made me long for the wailing of a car alarm, for emergency sirens blaring. For the screech of chalk against board, for the metallic scraping of a scab off of an ear drum. (This is a sensation I’ve experienced- I assure you, it’s even worse than it sounds.) A full listen to the album proved more painful than an inflamed hemorrhoid- after that first run through I would have preferred to have a long Q-tip jammed up my urethra rather than to have to suffer through it again. In trying to find a comparison to it in the cinematic world I think perhaps a Look Who’s Talking marathon would do or maybe just My Girl 2. What about Yentl? In the realm of cuisine it might be, oh, I don’t know, anal leakage gruel. If the album had a scent it would be comparable to that which existed in the family bathroom after father cleared his colon of the mincemeat pie he had devoured at Christmas table. In truth I am quite surprised that the c.d. didn’t leave the hands that touched it gangrenous.

Now, I was hoping to listen to the album again to more thoroughly recount it here for you, but I couldn’t find the damned thing anywhere. I searched the bargain bins at all of the local Family Dollar stores and the never-dusted music sections at the Village Thrifts, but no go. In truth I think I would have rather been force-fed the disk, made to swallow it whole, than to have to listen to it again. But I did try to find it, if only for the sake of depthful journalism. And my attempts to gather more information on the album through use of the Internet were entirely fruitless too. I did learn that Marillion, Keith Emerson, Rick Wakeman and Hawkwind also made Christmas records though, along with Jethro Tull. No idea what the fuck these dickwads were thinking doing that. But as for the Kansas/Wetton collaboration- it’s almost as if the album never existed- like someone found a wormhole somewhere and flung the master tapes in there, along with all existing copies. I picture jewel cases landing in a field during a time long ago, pilgrims finding them, mistaking the items for outer space fertilizer medallions, and burying them in the soil. If this is even remotely like anything that actually happened, than this could be one of the greatest services anyone has ever done for humanity.