Good Morning Gentle Readers,
There's two Christmas rules that're cast in stone here at Casa de las Rocas Grandes.
Thanksgiving comes first. No mistletoe, red ribbons, winky lights, Deck the Halls, or clanging sleigh bells until after the final benediction, formally calling vespers on the Most Hallowed High Holy Day of The Wine Commonsewer. A lot of you people know it as Thanksgiving Day.
Then, like Calvin Coolidge throwing the first pitch on opening day 1924 at the Washington Nationals game (Big Train wins, Washington wins), there is the ritual playing of the opening tune of the Christmas Season, a raucous, upbeat, Southern Fried Hockey Boogie version of that familiar Chuck Berry classic. Got Dam That Boy Is Pluckin'.
Dimes to donuts you've not heard it although it's the hands-down best version of that tune. Ever.
Lots of other versions; Dwight Yoakam's cover sounds like Question Mark & the Mysterians sat in on the set. Chuck Berry's is, of course, the classic, but is limited by the technology of the day. Keith Richards? Live in Japan, interesting. Surprisingly good. Yes, good. Foghat? I don't think so. Billy Ray Cyrus, well, okay. Hansen? Better than you think so stop that surly lip stuff (my kids think Hanson is a girl band). Brian Setzer, yes. Bon Jovi? My mother-in-law rode an elevator with that guy. Bonus: she knew who he was and talked to him. Bryan Adams will get your feet tapping, but all in all, none can hold a Christmas candle to the Skynard version. It rocks in a get-down, fried-hockey-boogie way that only Southern blues rock can do. Got that Neil?
Can't see the video, it's here.
Mad Max: Am I forgiven?
Yes, those are my kids.
Yes, I'm into vintage Americana.
The Wine Commonsewer