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Freedom Rocks

In the whirlwind that was Christmas, you may have missed a special holiday ode, performed by Washington Post music critic J. Freedom du Lac (taking the cake for coolest name for a reporter–sorry runners-up: Fox Butterfield, Jenny 8. Lee and R.W. Apple).

    Twas the week before Christmas, when all through the heezy/

    Not a creature was stirring, not even Young Jeezy

It gets even better…the rest of this priceless gem after the jump…

The iPods were hung by the chimney with care/

In hopes that Saint Etienne soon would be there

The bearded elite were nestled all snug in their beds/

While visions of Pitchfork danced in their heads

And mamma in her ‘do rag, and I in my cap/

Had just settled down for a freestyle rap

When over the speakers there arose such a clatter/

I sprang from the bed to the sound of Skynyrd’s “Mad Hatter”

Away to the window I flew like Grandmaster Flash/

Tore open the shutters and put on some Johnny Cash

The “Pink Moon” on the breast of the new-fallen Phoebe Snow/

Gave the Gus Gus track, “Anthem,” to the Freedom Rockers below

When, what to my wondering ears should appear/

But a miniature Viva K, and eight tiny Bob Weirs

With a little old drummer, so lively and quick/

I knew in a moment it must be Lars Ulrich

More rapid than eagles his kick drums they came/

And he whistled, and shouted, and pounded insane

“Now, Hetfield! Now, Burton! Now, Hammett and Mustaine!/

On, Newsted! On Trujillo! (But off with the manes)!”

“To the top of the riser! To the top of Paul Wall!/

Now mosh away! Mosh away! Mosh to ‘Kill ‘Em All!’”

As dry heaves that before Three 6 Mafia’s “Stay Fly”/

When they meet with Interpol’s “Obstacle 1″ or Kanye’s “Touch the Sky”

So up to the house party the Corrs they flew/

With the sleigh full of “In America” soundtracks, and St. Bono too

And then, in a twinkling, I started to raise the roof/

Upon hearing “This Magnificent Bird Will Rise” by San Francisco’s Deerhoof.

As I drew in my hand to crank up the sound/

Down the chimney Cam’ron came with a bound

He was dressed all in purple fur, from his head to his foot/

And the keys to his pink Range Rover were all tarnished with ashes and soot

A bundle of bling he had flung on his back/

And he looked like his boy Juelz, or maybe Craig Mack

His eyes – how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!/

His cheeks were like Stone Roses (and isn’t this ripe for some 50 Cent commentary?)

Somehow, Cam turned into Bob Marley, wouldn’t you know/

And the tips of his dreads were as white as the snow

The stump of a spliff he held tight in his teeth/

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath

He had an angelic face and not much of a belly/

No Elvis-like tendencies to eat peanut butter-and-banana sandwiches (hold the jelly)

He was iconic and inspiring, a revolutionary old elf/

And I felt irie when I saw him, in spite of Ronnie Self

A wink of his eye and a twist of his natty dreads/

Soon gave me to know I had nothing on my head

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work/

And sang “Redemption Song,” then a duet with Solomon Burke

And laying his finger aside Weezer’s “Dope Nose”/

And giving a nod, up the chimney with Loretta’s “Van Lear Rose”

He sprang to his sleigh, to the I-Three gave a whistle/

And away they all flew, out of Jamrock like a missile

But I heard him exclaim, as he made an exodus out of sight/

Happy Christmas to all, and to all a Jack White.

Freedom Rock, 2005

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