I’m all about the honesty so here it is:
I love Boney M.
I love their crazy Afros. I love their funky disco-era renditions of ancient holy carols. I love their proclamations of glory: Oh my Lord, you sent your Son to save us, oh my Lord . . .
I get that musically, Boney M is atrocious stuff. But it’s my childhood. It’s summer holidays and my sisters and me dancing on the lounge carpet in front of the Christmas tree. It’s market shopping and tinsel and turkey.
Scandalously, I have passed on this passion to my sons. Now, in March, and July, and every day from mid-October until Christmas, I get requests for ‘Christmas songs pleeeeeez, Mommy!’ They don’t care that it’s inappropriate – freaky – to listen to (bad) Christmas music in the middle of the year.