On Christmas Music And Other Delicacies

One of my more frequent moonlighting experiences over the past couple of years has been writing music journalism for a couple of different 'culture' magazines. One of these, Paste, has twice asked me to write a round-up of Christmas albums. A nice little box of CD's shows up in the mail around September, from which I get to pick and choose which albums I think are most notable. Over the past two years I have added the most exceptional moments to my Christmas playlist. I got some good ones. For sure.

My favorite is Marvin Gaye singing "I Want To Come Home For Christmas," the plight of a POW stuck in Hanoi for the holidays. Following Marvin is Tanya Tucker singing "Christmas To Christmas," then Bootsy Collins' "Chestnutz." It is important to have a diversity of genre in your holiday playlist. By the time Over The Rhine launches into "North Pole Man" the potential schmaltz of the holiday listening experience has been completely eroded. Christmas is a different experience for everyone. Gibbidy-gabbidy-goo.

In an hour or so I will hit the road for a ten mile run, heading north for a loop through deserted downtown Nashville then shooting West along Church Street out to the old neighborhood in Sylvan Park. When I was a little younger I was in such a hurry to accumulate history, to have thins to look back on and ponder. In such a hurry that I probably didn't enjoy the present experience nearly as much as I could have. But I did it the way I did it, which is fine.

This year I have found that running is a great way to relive time and place without getting too mired down in the potentially difficult melancholia of them. On a long run, my brain becomes so discombobulated and shaken about I find myself incapable of dwelling on one particular thought for too long. It is wonderful to run through places with which I associate painful or sad memories. It feels as if I am reclaiming for the present, and that I never have to live those old versions of them again. They sparkle anew, and I feel energy surging through my body, so much more lithe and adaptable than its alcohol-ridden former incarnation of only a few years ago. On my last tour, I did the running reclamation a lot, successfully making Chicago, New York, rural Virginia and Charlotte my bitches, each and every one.

So I can think of nothing finer than to revisit some Nashville history today with a nice long run. Extra endorphins pumping are good. Marvin, Tammy, Mindy and Bootsy bouncing around my head like matzoh balls, decomposing, digesting. I like how the city empties out: no traffic, vehicular or pedestrian. There is something about dwelling on the negative space and the absence of people that makes them seem nearer and dearer. I will push through it like a hot spoon in chutney and let the sugary remnants drip from me, so many moments that will never be again.