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Reindeer Games 

Discovering the art behind Christmas

You have to love America, don't you? We're all (still) pretty free to do whatever the hell it is we want, provided it's not hurting anyone else (exceptions: our current imbecilic drug and sex laws). Perhaps more importantly, we're free to make a nice living solely by creating Christmas reindeer out of old twigs.

Yes, no other holiday quite celebrates itself like Christmas. Every year at this time, I buy my parents a tree ornament or two, which sounds normal enough until you consider that I do not buy them a string of light-up plastic pumpkins every October, nor do I bring them a dozen free-range eggs every April. I'm almost buying them a "meta-present," if you will -- a gift to honor the gift-giving holiday itself. (As for my parents, they seem to prefer it to socks from J.C. Penney.)

The 10th Annual Craft Council's Charlotte Craft show, in town this weekend at the Merchandise Mart, isn't expressly billed as a Christmas-themed show, but it's no coincidence that the show doesn't roll into town in, say, May. All sorts of Christmas-related crafts are everywhere you look: quilts, glassware, necklaces, pins, furniture, pottery, steel sculpture and more. Some is kitsch, but there's a lot here that blurs the line between craft and "art," a line that was never so clear to me in the first place. ("The quality, production, expression or realm of what is beautiful or of more than ordinary significance," says the dictionary.) After all, what is art if not "useful," the key ingredient in "craft"? Only the white-painted twig reindeer know for sure.

This weekend, I did two things that I really try to avoid at all costs. I ate pizza, never my favorite of the would-be Americanized ethnic cuisine (Chop Suey, anyone?), and I sat and watched a guy play covers on an acoustic guitar.Now, don't get me wrong: I respect those kinds of folks for the cojones it takes to get up there and play music for people who are largely indifferent except for blurting out "Journey!" between songs.

Which, I'm sad to report, happened. And I knew the guy, too. Asking me for something a little more... erudite to request, I told my friend to go the Dylan route. "Dylan!!" This little miscue gave us five minutes of the Guns "N' Roses take on "Knockin' on Heaven's Door," replete with all the Axl-in-need-of-grease shrieks and screams. Up next came some current radio hit, which then morphed into an acoustic cover of Snoop Dogg's "Drop It Like It's Hot." "Geez," I thought, "first "Gin and Juice' and now this! What's up with the cover band acoustic covers of Snoop songs? Does Bigg Snoop Dogg secretly engineer all his songs to contain three chords to help perpetuate his music into every two-bit Fuddrucker's in America? Genius!"

As for our songwriter guy, he did OK considering he was probably only getting $50 to play the "gig." And getting $50 to play the same stuff you would if you were kicking back with your buddies and some brews seems like a pretty good deal. That said, even your buddies should ixnay an Axl-fied "Knockin' on Heaven's Door." Drop it like it's hotttt...

To follow, some random thoughts on the Drive-By Truckers' jam-packed two-night stand at the Visulite Theatre this past Friday and Saturday.Number one: I had a deli-made pimiento cheese sandwich on Friday before I went to the show, an unconscious but completely appropriate supping before checking out the raucous rockers: not fancy, but tasty and filling and distinctly Southern.

Number two: The DBTs draw an interesting crowd, skewing older but inclusive of alt.country fans, classic rocker types, jam band fans, and the two or three hipsters willing to break type and go see something they like, no matter the damage to their already tenuous credibility. This, along with the music, creates an interesting atmosphere -- nobody's worrying about looking cool.

Number three: Two nights, five bottles of Jack Daniel's.

Number four: Regarding number three, the DBTs and not yours truly.

Number five: Guitarist Jason Isbell had electrical tape covering the logo on his amps. In today's age of saturation marketing, pretty punk rock.

Number six: I don't know when I've ever seen a band smile so much on stage. Whether after a bit of improvisation or an especially electric coda, the members had shit-eating grins affixed to their mugs all night. Nice to see that a band getting paid good money to play songs for a living would enjoy their lot in life.

Number seven: Certified Snoop-free.

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