Santa's Other Helpers

Think Santa Claus has the monopoly on supernatural Christmas gift-giving? Coca-Cola may want us to think so, but there’s a pantheon of other beings who surface during the Yuletide season. And some of them aren’t quite as benevolent as the jolly old man in red. So before you leave out a carrot and mince pie on Christmas Eve this year, consider who else may be paying a visit...

Belsnickel

Pre-empting Santa by a couple of weeks, Belsnickel is a Germanic folk figure, often depicted as a raggedy character, dressed in dingy furs, tattered clothes and wearing a devilish-looking mask. He arrives in person rather than by stealth, and his appearance serves as a final warning for naughty children in the run-up to Christmas. Belsnickel will pose questions or riddles, rewarding the children who get them right with sweets, whilst punishing those who get them wrong with a smart lick of his hazel switch. The desired effect is that good children will carry on being so whilst naughty ones are given a non-too-subtle reminder they only have a short amount of time to improve before Santa’s visit on Christmas Eve.

Some folktales hold Belsnickel to possess a darker streak: sometimes he would kidnap especially naughty children and steal them away to the forest, where they would be given one last chance to redeem themselves by performing tasks at Belsnickel's whim. Occasionally, they were never to be seen again. Other tales invest some supernatural power, including the knack of slipping through keyholes in order to leave gifts.

Ded Moroz. Source: New Eurasia

Ded Moroz

In Russia, Grandfather Frost – or Ded Moroz – relieves Santa for gift-giving duties. Nowadays, old Ded has become more Westernised in line with the American Santa figure, but his roots lie with decidedly older and more esoteric beings. The earliest tales portray him as a powerful and malign sorcerer, inheriting traits from old Slavic gods of the winter. He would freeze children and stuff them in his sack – parents would then have to appease him with presents to ransom their little ones.

Today’s more benevolent incarnation arrived in the Soviet era, where a gift-giving figure was approved as an avatar for the Communist alternative to Christmas. Old and bearded, Grandfather Frost appears dressed in trimmed blue rather than red, carries a magical staff, and flies in a sleigh drawn by the finest stallions – pictured in contemporary images racing Soviet rockets through space.

Unlike Santa, Ded is more often than not accompanied by a female companion. His granddaughter, Snegurochka – Snow Maiden – appears as an attractive young girl in slivery robes and a fur trim cap. The icy monikers and frosty attire are now all that remains of the traits passed down from the winter gods of old.

Traditional Krampuskarten. Source: CVLT Nation

Krampus

Unlike the rest of Santa’s helpers, Krampus appears only to punish naughty children. A Christmas demon, Krampus appears as a bestial, satyr-like creature, with cloven hooves, horns, and a lolling tongue. Sometimes he appears wearing chains, bells, or else carrying a barrel for stealing away misbehaving children. These are then eaten, or drowned, or simply taken straight to Hell. Where he appears in Christian tradition, he is as the devil, chained into submission and enslaved to work for St Nicholas. But Krampus also has an independent Pagan character and a devoted following especially in Alpine countries where his legend has its roots.

Krampusnacht is celebrated on December 5th, the night before the feast day of St Nicholas, a traditional nightmare before Christmas that unfolds as a Halloween for adults. Young men will often dress up in fiendish costume, running amok in the streets as part of a Krampuslaufen (tour or run), taunting young women and generally causing drink-fuelled mischief. The customary method to stave off their attention is by the somewhat dubious act of offering more alcohol. This tradition is also enjoying something of a revival in the USA, with the accompanying Perchtenlaufen being the female equivalent.

Seasonal illustration by Jenny Nystrom. Source: Love for Books

Jultomten and Julbock

In Scandinavian countries some folklore holds that each dwelling is haunted by its own fairy familiar – a small nisse, or tomte – that helps its adopted family with secretive tasks (see Harry Potter’s house elves). Jultomten is a Yuletide variant, known to rove from home to home, checking up on children and leaving presents in its passing. Small, elfin, with four fingers, and eyes that glow in the dark, Jultomten will cast its protection over a household providing there is a bowl of porridge left out for it. Forget this welcome, and you may suffer from the gnome’s trickster nature: livestock may fall ill, or misfortune befall the family. Jultomten increasingly took on features of the ever popular Santa Claus as his influence spread from the USA and southern Europe.
Jultomten is accompanied by his companion Julbock - the Yule Goat - who pulls his sled laden with gifts. The Julbock is in fact far older than Jultomten, tracing back to pre-Christian traditions, where the last sheaf of corn from the harvest was shaped into a goat figurine, believed to possess the spirit of Yule and bringing good luck to the new year. Throughout history his role has changed, becoming at times a trickster spirit - a man-sized goat figure wassailing at people's houses - or, through Christianisation, a symbol of the Devil himself. Today the image of a straw goat is still a popular seasonal icon.

Befana

In Italy the eve of Epiphany on January 5^th is the time when the witch-figure Befana flies forth on her broomstick. Children across Italy are gifted with toys and sweets (caramelle), if they have been good, or coal and twigs (carbone), if they have not. Befana is also known to sweep out the house with her broomstick: children know well not to enter the room where they can hear the swish of a broom on Epiphany Eve. Christian traditions tell of when Befana was asked by the questing magi to join them in their journey to honour the newborn Jesus. She refused, but later regretted her decision. She then set off on her own quest for the infant Christ, but failed to find him. In penance, or perhaps because she is still searching, Befana visits the homes of every child in Italy, entering through the chimney in order to leave gifts. She is depicted in the fashion of the crone archetype, usually covered in soot.

Befana’s legend is thought to extend further back to the ancient solstice feast of Saturnalia, and is possibly linked to the Roman goddess Strenua, who presided over the giving of new year’s gifts during this time. Other theories link Befana to another Italian tradition of burning an effigy of a witch – the Giubiana – on a pyre to welcome in the new year, which itself is thought to have Celtic origins. The passing of the witch represents the death of the old year, and the spirit of hope for the new.


An edition of this article first appeared at StudentCom on 17th December, 2013

House of Terror Budapest: Review

60 Andrassy Avenue

The House of Terror is a grim yet fascinating witness to the victims of Budapest’s two terror regimes from the last century. Identifiable by its striking black borders, the very building that was once home to the perversions of ideological extremes is now a commemoration to its victims. Now in its tenth year since opening its doors to the public, the balance it strives for between memorial and museum makes for a conceptually flawed if beguiling experience.

As headquarters for the Arrow Cross Fascists and the Soviet AVO secret police that replaced them, 60 Andrassy Avenue bears a haunted past. Each room of the museum that now frequents the building has been conceived as a stylish installation, from a Soviet tank hulking by the entrance to the many faces of the regimes’ victims staring out from the elevator walls. The messages are boldly communicated, if not always so effectively. The building is somewhat awkward in its layout, asking visitors to move from top to bottom, with a confused chronological progression to the rooms and scant information in places. For English-speakers this can prove especially frustrating, as an accompanying sheet of text is sometimes the only English explanation available, and often not enough.

Votive candles

The installations that convey the message of each room bear some resemblance to the Franz Kafka museum in Prague, although lacking in its eloquence. Whereas the Kafka museum succeeds in conjuring a sense of tragic creative endeavour versus the banality of modern life, the House of Terror stumbles through its own story with rather less panache. Some rooms appear tailored more towards visual impact than the effective imparting of information, and one is left with the impression that certain areas of its history have been denied a more thorough exposure in favour of eye-catching but vapid showcases. Certainly, balance is shifted towards the atrocities committed under the Soviet regime, with only a little space dedicated to the Hungarian Fascists of the Arrow Cross that preceded it. This is a shame, as such an important topic surely deserves a fairer treatment.

As a concept, the House can’t seem to make up its mind about what it wants to be, switching every few paces from museum to memorial, through art exhibition to house of horrors. This awkward identity crisis lets in a few kitsch elements that cheapen the House’s nature as a memorial. Does it matter? Probably. The sheer number of votive candles lining the walls outside is enough to remind us of the reality of what the House commemorates, so its design should exercise proportionate taste in examining its past. Unfortunately, this is where the main problem lies. The sinister music that plays upon entering the house and later on in the museum certainly builds atmosphere, but is any of it really necessary when this is, after all, the very same place where all these atrocities occurred? That fact alone should be enough to set the tone, without the need for hyperbolic strings in the background. The slow descent of the lift towards the basement and the ‘reconstructed’ cells we find there smack slightly of bloody dungeons and ghost trains. Do we need the artificial excess of ambient lighting, ‘dirty’ floors and fake rainwater to appreciate the profundity of the setting? The designers, it would appear, think we do.

Victims' portraits

And perhaps they have a point, to an extent. This theatricality, built to stimulate many senses rather than just one or two, allows an immersive accessibility for a younger generation more in thrall with reconstructed realities. It is the younger generations that will benefit more from this type of museum, so perhaps it is right to cater towards their needs. It’s just a shame that the House of Terror must become a parody of itself – an exercise in cheap fairground thrills – in order to tell its genuinely haunting tales. Separating the memorial aspect from the museum may have been a more respectful and simpler solution. As it is, the building proclaiming ‘TERROR’ along its roof wears the portraits of its victims with a sort of morbidly shameless glamour: I did this, it says, look upon me and tremble. Sadly, this gratuitous need for hyperrealism is symptomatic of Western culture in general: a house of terror must needs look terrifying, independent of what makes it terrifying.

In spite of its shortcomings, the House of Terror is still very much worthy of a visit for anyone requiring a more historical tonic to their Budapest experience. Overlook its conceptual inconsistencies and blotchily-placed history and there is much of interest to be found. Not least are the video interviews with those who experienced the atrocities of the house and lived to tell the tale. The room listing the names of the victims, followed by a room listing the names of the oppressors – many with dates of death left blank – gives some long pause for thought. At the end of such a bleak tour it would have been nice if the museum ended on a more optimistic note, but the minimalist videos of Soviet troops waving goodbye in the final room fall sadly short of providing any great sense of closure. Is this history considered too recent to justify expanding upon? Detailing the end of the Soviet regime would have at least provided a more complete picture.

Amongst the Guccis and Armanis of Andrassy Avenue, number 60, with its harsh black borders and symbols of terror writ across the sky, boldly marks itself out as something different. Unfortunately, it seems undecided as to just what exactly that is. Anyone wanting to experience what it has to offer will undoubtedly leave disturbed, just not necessarily for all the right reasons.

Regime symbols

An edition of this article first appeared at 4Qplus.com on October 17th, 2012

Chiddy Bang: Interview

Source: fresh-grind.com

Chiddy Bang, comprising Chidera ‘Chiddy’ Anamege and Noah ‘Xaphoon Jones’ Beresin, are in a pretty upbeat mood, and they have every right to be. Describing themselves as “hip-hop for today’s ADD generation,” the group have ridden a wave of popularity that has seen them go from mere start-ups in 2009 to releasing their debut album ‘Breakfast’ in March of this year, selling 31,000 copies during its first week on sale in the US. So what magic took place in-between? In a word: the internet (all right then, two words).

The phrase ‘gone viral,’ oft-used to the point of gagging cliche, seems entirely appropriate in the case of the Philadelphia hip-hop duo. In the early days of 2009, when gigging at US universities, the group would often play to packed-out venues, their arrival pre-empted by John the Baptist style evangelising within student circles. Says Xaphoon: “universities all across America are little bubbles for sharing new music [...] we were nothing, but we would go to Middlebury [College] in Vermont, and because everyone there had just shared the music with each other, they all knew the words. We played for 600 kids, and 600 kids were singing every word to every song.”

Such a significant early response does not come easily, of course. Getting to that envious position of online eminence was a task in itself. Using the music blog aggregator Hypemachine, Xaphoon recounts how he would scour the site for blogs making consistently popular posts, before making speculative submissions of the group’s own work: “[we would submit to] a couple hundred blogs, and out of those couple hundred blogs, maybe twenty would listen to it, maybe five would post it.” But Chiddy Bang’s success is testament to nothing if not persistence, and the bushfire spread of the group’s popularity across campuses everywhere was an indication of things to come: “from those five, everything just started.”

In October 2009 Chiddy Bang released their first free downloadable mixtape, ‘Swelly Express.’ Telling the story of the group’s musical journey so far, Xaphoon was hopeful of the release’s success: “we expected to get 10-20,000 downloads if we were lucky.” Instead, the response was phenomenal: “we ended up getting 100,000 in the first month!” enthuses Chiddy. Their success did not go unnoticed. Having initially declined label interest in the US, Chiddy Bang signed with Parlephone Records in the UK and in February 2010 their first UK single, ‘Opposite of Adults,’ hit the mainstream like a small bomb.

Source: prettymuchamazing.com

Given the classic nature of the MGMT source material, the group were keen not to come across as too serious; “that could have ended us,” expands Xaphoon, “people could have just torn us apart. Taking one of the biggest songs of all time, stuttering it out and rapping over it...” Fortunately, no such musical faux pas came to pass and ‘Opposite of Adults’ entered the UK Singles Chart at no. 12. “It wasn’t top 10 but it was so fucking close.” That precious top 10 entry was achieved in the Australian Singles Chart when it peaked at no. 10. In fact, Australia appears to be Chiddy Bang’s prime territory for success: “we’ve gone platinum [...] we outsold Tinie [Tempah] by 150,000 records.” That particular achievement is still hard to grasp, highlighting the relative disparity between territories: “culture is strange,” muses Xaphoon.

And the UK? How has that been? “Amazing,” “fun,” they both agree. Having toured various UK cities with Tinie Tempah in 2010, Chiddy Bang appear quite at home on British soil. Indeed, ‘Air Swell,’ the duo’s mini-mixtape follow-up, draws heavily from UK artists for inspiration, sampling the likes of Ellie Goulding, Kate Nash, Gorillaz, and Hot Chip: “we were just listening to so much UK stuff.” This year the duo have appeared at a number of major venues up and down the UK as part of their current worldwide tour.

It’s clear to see the appeal of Chiddy Bang’s creative output: bouncy, colourful, erratic, and never afraid to poke about in the richly-lined drawers of music history. But how do they define themselves? The duo seem keen to come across as symptomatic of the listening habits of today’s younger generations: “today the lines of genres are being blurred out,” says Xaphoon, “people have iPods with hundreds of genres.” This diversity of taste is reflected in Xaphoon’s own intense cataloguing of musical influences. He credits a number of producers and artists in helping craft and evolve his sound: “Boi-1da, the Knocks, the Neptunes,” amongst many other mentions, “combined with a heavy dose of ADD.” “I don’t have ADD,” clarifies Xaphoon, referring to the attention deficit and impulsiveness of his target audience, “but the people I make music for do.”

So what next for Chiddy Bang? How about setting a new Guinness World Record for a start? In March 2011 at the MTV O Music Awards, Chiddy broke the record for longest freestyle rap, setting the benchmark at just over nine hours and sixteen minutes. Riding out the enormous success of debut album ‘Breakfast,’ Chiddy Bang are not short for work over 2012, and are currently in the middle of a comprehensive worldwide tour. On future projects the duo are coyly non-specific, but Xaphoon is ambitious: “Chiddy’s going to be writing with tons of pop artists and rappers, [...] I’m going to be producing with other artists and writing with them.” It seems the next stage in the Chiddy Bang viral strategy is to infect as broad a spectrum of popular music as possible: “spreading it out,” refines Chiddy. And if their success to date is anything to go by, Chiddy Bang will be invading our unconscious musical tastes whether we want them to or not. But what is there not to like? The incredibly charismatic ego-trip of single ‘Mind Your Manners’ sets out the Chiddy Bang formula neatly: cheeky, fun, and unstoppably infectious. This is audio breakfast. Don’t be skipping it.

Interviewed by Andrew Jackson

An edition of this article first appeared in 4Q Magazine, Issue IX, Sept 2012