The 12 Days of Christmas Songs Worse than LDB: Newsong’s The Christmas Shoes

Christmas Shoes
Fit to be tied: These shoes were made for walking—away from this song. (Credit: SparkleToes3)

A very Merry Christmas, LDBCers! We here at LDBC Central wish to thank you for indulging our desire to subject you to 12 craptivatingly crummy Christmas tunes, and we want to let you know that crowdsourcing works! Several of you cited Newsong’s “The Christmas Shoes” as a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad song. And after enduring the nearly five-minute video for the sake of research, I must concur. Yes, that’s Rob Lowe in there, playing a grinchy lawyer who discovers the real meaning of Christmas with the help of a young boy in need. I pray that Lowe has made enough money from his recent tell-all autobiography so that he never has to appear in a maudlin made-for-TV Christmas movie ever again. — Mrs. LDBC

The 12 Days of Christmas Songs Worse than LDB: Cyndi Lauper’s Christmas Conga

Cyndi Lauper Christmas
Bonga, bonga, bonga—screw the Christmas Conga

Yes, LDBCers, the Season of the Drum has officially come to a close. But that doesn’t mean that we have run out of craptivatingly craven Christmas tunes to criticize—there are two more!

Until recently, I was completely unaware of the existence of Cyndi Lauper’s “Christmas Conga”—and I was totally okay with that. But now that it’s occupying valuable neuronal space that could otherwise be pressed into service for remembering lines from Goodfellas, I must share the joy with you. I’ll let the “music” speak for itself. — Mrs. LDBC

How Did You Do in the 2012 LDBC?

Happy Sad Faces

So how’d you do? The Little Drummer Boy Challenge ends at midnight, your time, on Dec. 23rd. Now, we love seeing you brag or mourn, depending on your result, on the Facebook page. But it also helps us out quite a bit if you fill out this form to record your win or loss officially. So take a minute and increase your Challenge karma exponentially. — Mr. LDBC

The 12 Days of Christmas Songs Worse than LDB: Clay Aiken’s Merry Christmas with Love

Clay Aiken
Oh, my Aiken ears: Clay’s mind-bendingly maudlin musical mess

This latest helping of holiday hokum was a staple of Clay Aiken’s “Joyful Noise” Tour (2004-2007). But there’s nothing joyful about this noise, my friends. Clay is the closest thing we in the real world have to a Rankin/Bass stop-motion character. However, Kris Kringle, Yukon Cornelius—hell, even Hermey—wouldn’t be caught dead warbling this syrupy Yuletide twaddle. This one’s enough to make me turn into Sombertown’s Burgermeister Meisterburger right quick. Or, to paraphrase Marsellus Wallace, “I’m gonna get Bumble on your ass.” — Mrs. LDBC

The 12 Days of Christmas Songs Worse than LDB: Madonna’s Santa Baby

We need a holiday—from Madge’s saccharine “Santa Baby.”

Madonna’s treacly take on Eartha Kitt’s slightly less treacly 1953 hit appeared on 1987’s “A Very Special Christmas,” along with such enduring Yuletide classics as The Coug’s rendition of “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” (see my last take-down, er, post) and Bon Jovi’s version of “Back Door Santa.”

According to my airtight source (an unreferenced statement on the “Santa Baby” Wikipedia entry), “Santa Baby” is one of only two Christmas hits penned by a woman (Joan Javits, the niece of NY Senator Jacob K. Javits, for all you factoid-heads). The other one? “Carol of the Drum” by Katherine K. Davis—better known as “The Little Drummer Boy.” — Mrs. LDBC

The 12 Days of Christmas Songs Worse than LDB: John Cougar Mellencamp’s I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus

John Cougar Mellencamp
Uh-uh: The Coug and friends cut loose to bring you a heapin’ helpin’ of cruddy Christmas cheer.

Full disclosure: Mrs. LDBC has nurtured a white-hot hatred of the Christmas classic “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” since she was a wee lass in the hinterlands of suburban New Jersey. Mommy two-timing Daddy with a bearded guy in red velvet who shows up once a year to chow down on milk and cookies? HELL TO THE NO. Add in a Tawny-Kitaen-maned Coug, fiddles, and acid wash, and the white-hot hatred morphs into apoplexy. My fervent Christmas wish: that folksy, homespun music types swear off making zydeco-infused versions of creepy Yuletide tunes. They won’t, of course. But ain’t that America? —Mrs. LDBC