It has to be said: Black Cat Christmas Eve has fallen off in a pretty serious way. I just got back from it, and yeah, I had a nice time. My friends were there, and beer was there, and unexpected friendly acquaintances were there, and it was pretty good. But the atmosphere was terrible. This was, I think, the fourth installment of this tradition, but right now I’m worried that we may have to find a new venue for the fifth.
Here’s what Black Cat Christmas Eve is supposed to be. First: the only open bar in town. Second: filled with put-upon Jews and self-pitying Christians. Third: silent, except for paid-for instances of “Fairytale of New York” played via the jukebox. Fourth: characterized by furtive smoking — or, if legislation precludes smoking, plenty of uncomfortable introspective pauses.
STRONGLY CONTRAINDICATED: DJs, crowds, and merriment — yet all were in abundance tonight. Extraneous DJ aside, it was like any other night in the Red Room. This probably sounds like it shouldn’t be a problem — after all, I like the Red Room! But it felt wrong. I enjoy this tradition because of the atmosphere and the carefully-cultivated and variably-meta sense of self-pity that it fosters. Having a bunch of drunk Irish guys making boisterous toasts undercuts that decisively.
But I suppose I can’t really complain. Having a good time while being surrounded by people enjoying themselves is a strange thing to bitch about. It’s just that this is the one night every year that I have set aside specifically for the romanticization of lonesomeness. I feel like that’s not too much to ask.
Of course, it always comes back to that goddamn Pogues song — that’s the whole premise. And if you want an illustration of what the Red Room Christmas Eve is supposed to be versus what it presently is, all you have to do is listen to the original version back-to-back with Stars’ horrible cover:
The Pogues – Fairytale of New York
Stars – Fairytale of New York
A BIT TANGENTIAL: Having just listened to it (after being forced to listen to uptempo non-Pogues songs at the Cat), I feel compelled to point out that by far the most (and arguably only) devastating couplet in “Fairytale of New York” is “I could have been someone / well so could anyone”. The rest is mostly melodrama, to be honest. Still, that’s a hell of a sentiment.
ALSO: Make fun all you want, but Sufjan really brings it when it comes to Christmas music. “What Child Is This Anyway” may be irony-free, but it’s also pretty awesome.