Roxanne – Say It Ain’t Snow

Baby, it’s cold outside. From my window, I’m watching fat, fluffy snowflakes drift down.

Later today, excited kiddies will be bundled into warm clothes and herded to the Santa Claus parade in downtown Toronto where they will fidget and wriggle and cry and laugh and scream like banshees when the Fat Man rolls by in his sleigh pulled by eight tiny reindeer.

I have never liked winter. Growing up, it was a ‘dry cold’ in Alberta, and then a damp, miserable cold in Montreal. Never been a sporty type, prefer après-ski bevvies to actual skiing, and skate mainly on my ankles, if at all.

Winter is merciless, and feels endless to me. I can only handle it by hunkering down, lowering my head, and powering through until Spring. And self-medicating. Lots of self-medicating.

For those who enjoy the cold and winter sports, we who whinge and moan about the weather seem like flakey old grumps. Don’t care. Enjoy your rosy cheeks and frostbitten fingers; I’ll just curl up over here with my blankey and my S.A.D. (Seasonal Affective Disorder) lamp.

It ain’t no new thing, and I’m not the only Gloomy Gus out there, either. Operation Ivy was protesting climate change and social disorder back in ’89. Winter brings out the depressives in droves – except that we don’t actually GO out … we’re more likely hunched over the computer, spewing our tortured thoughts on to the screen, or scribbling away in crumpled notepads.

Remember when we all thought planes were going to fall out of the sky in Y2K? Yep, winter – December 31, 2000 was going to be the ‘end of the world as we know it.’ Gwen Stefani, still wearing braces, and fronting No Doubt (including their naked drummer,) kicked out MTV’s New Year’s Eve party that year.

Some writers cultivate depression and navel gazing, feeling best when feeling bad. Cold, bleak, sunless days in winter are the cream in their coffee of despair. I love this juxtaposition of delicate vocals and arpeggios over lyrics along the lines of “you’re as good as dead.” Everybody sing along!

Yeah, you’re broke, you’re ugly and you’re fat, even in your skinniest jeans. Everyone leaves you, no one loves you. Time to go eat worms. I was in England in the spring of 1972 when this charming pop song dominated the UK charts. Now this you can wallow to. As you can see in this video, when contemplating suicide, it’s always nice to have your grand piano work accompanied by 12 violinists, cellos, bongos, jazz guitar and flutes.

Yeah … women. And men. And December. Everything they do and say hits a nerve. How did you ever put up with those irritating habits and mannerisms?  Make it stop! Go away, annoying faithless monster!  I cans’t takes it no mo’!

Good. They’re gone. Now I can wallow in my misery properly. Pass the comfort food … I need more starch! “And in my bed i can dream a winter’s gale” 

Nothing like a Leonard Cohen tune to really get down … to the depths of misery … Something about his baritone – and maybe lyrics like, “You say you’ve gone away from me, but I can feel you when you breathe.” Damn … is he under the desk? In the closet? Beind that curtain?

Yes, they are gone. And it’s all your fault. Nothing makes you happy. Not even the promise of Christmas. Not even if you’re Joni Mitchell.

All that’s left to do is find a parody of Pharrell Williams’ song “Happy” ….

(Editor’s Note: This is genius…and damn if it doesn’t make me Happy!)

… pray for a lottery win that’ll buy you a ticket to somewhere warm … and remember that it’s summer on the other side of the world …  (New Zealand’s The Naked And Famous – Young Blood)

=RT=

Roxanne’s column appears here every Sunday 

Contact us at dbawis@rogers.com

Roxanne Tellier has been singing since she was 10 months old … no, really. Not like she’s telling anyone else how to live their lives, because she’s not judgmental, and most 10 month olds need a little more time to figure out how to hold a microphone. She has also been a vocalist with many acts, including Tangents, Lady, Performer, Mambo Jimi, and Delta Tango. In 2013 she co-hosted Bob Segarini’s podcast, The Bobcast, and, along with Bobert, will continue to seek out and destroy the people who cancelled ‘Bunheads’.