Sing Hosanna...It's Ebbing House

 Once in Royal David's City...where is that? Davidium? New Dave? He was born in Bethlehem, like sweet Baby J, and that's definitely not a city. It has two pubs, a post office and a small farm shop with an honesty box outside for the duck eggs. Hardly the roaring metropolis....

Anyway, I'm getting bogged down. 

World's a bit shit at the moment, isn't it? No, it really is. 

All those wars. All those fascists. All those billionaires becoming trillionaires, an amount so obscene that spell-check refuses to believe it's a thing. I'm with you, spell-check. It shouldn't be a thing. All the toxic masculinity still everywhere, and its unnatural, tandooried embodiment is the President of the United States of America! Again. For the second time. His staff nominations look like Dick Tracy's rogues gallery: The Trafficker, Stink Hands, Billy No-Climates. Who next, Don? Andrew Tate? Russell Brand? Farage will be in there as the Ambassador to Coutts Bank, which he will very much enjoy. 

Well, Ebbing House, band & gentlemen, say NO. NO to all of it. 

They want you to have a good time, good time. Which is why they have prepared this stereo stocking filler for you: Eddie and the Toys c/w Silent Night. Yes, that Silent Night. We're doing Silent Night. The Carol. 

https://ebbinghouse.bandcamp.com/album/eddie-and-the-toys-silent-night

We suffered for this art. Singer John had man flu - the worst kind of flu (it killed Egon Schiele) - throughout, and nearly suffered a breakdown trying to get his mic to work. 

Everything-elser (Elsa) Ben actually did suffer a breakdown doing everything else, especially when the "singer" started having "opinions". Quite hard to sing with a mic shoved up his arse, actually, Ben. 

Eddie is the story of a criminal Christmas ne'er do well who just wants to get those gifts to those kids. Sadly, one of those kids is Martin Tasker, scion of Taskerlands, who opines "All I want for Christmas is please go away." Eddie is blurry, hauntological and obscure, and pegged into the ground with drums last heard on Morrissey's "Little Man, What Now?" Don't listen to that song- he's in Trump's cabinet. Listen to this. 

Silent Night...well, it's Silent Night. Singer John sings it sincerely with a bad head cold. He means it, man. If only for a moment. Elsa Ben summons beautiful sounds for this: subtle drones, Sterling Morrison guitar licks, are those bag pipes? The silent night - where no one can hear you scream - is space, and Singer John is falling through the empty sky marveling at the universe while his air supply holds.

Shepherds would quake at this. 

Enjoy. And Happy Christmas. 

The New Year can wait.