How does one place a sound that seems somewhere between a New York coffee-house open-podium, a New Orleans jazz lounge, and some Country-Western bar out in rural Wyoming? Triangulating the coordinates on a map, it makes sense that the result is the Cincinnati-based musical stylings of Over the Rhine. But really, one has to hear their music to appreciate it.

My lovely wife just got me their Christmas album, "Snow Angels," and I've been enjoying it immensely ever since my first listen. Somehow Over the Rhine manages to maintain their unique indy-jazz-country sound -- and still find a way to give it a subtle peppermint flavor for Christmas. Most of the songs on the album are original (Sorry: no frivolous renditions of "Frosty the Snowman"), but they fit with the holiday season because of their lyrics and their instrumentation, which carry a reminder of the Charlie Brown Christmas Special.

One thing that I especially appreciate about Over the Rhine is their lyrical content, both on "Snow Angels" and on their other projects. From everything I've heard, I gather that the husband-and-wife core of the band are sincere followers of Jesus -- which definitely does come out in their music -- but they're also not afraid to write about wine and sex and scenery. It's a refreshing take on Christian spirituality.

And of course, Over the Rhine is great because they're from Ohio: the seat of all satisfaction. :-) Nevermind the fact that I was introduced to their music by people from Texas, Missouri, Colorado, and Holland -- Over the Rhine's essential Ohioness has got to count for something special, doesn't it? In any event, I enjoy their music -- and especially their Christmas album.

My brother, Jay, recently posted some of his favorite songs of sadness, and I found the opportunity the opportunity to reflect on my own personal playlist strangely enjoyable. Then this morning, I was bicycling into the city and listening to music on my headphones, I was actually moved to tears (in a good way) by one of the songs. So I thought it might be fun to share more of the "Songs that Make Me Cry," paying homage to the powerful emotional influence that music can have on us. Here are five of my personal favorites:

"Waters of Babylon," by Don McLean

This is the ultimate song of lament: words of the ancient Hebrew Scriptures set to a haunting, circular tune by 1970s folk song-writer Don McLean. The words themselves don't make so much sense in a contemporary context -- but even so, somehow they reflect the character of a people who were deeply acquainted with sorrow and suffering. If you read the stories behind the lyrics (see Psalm 137 and the Old Testament history of the Babylonian Exile), then you can appreciate the sorrow even further. But in any event, McLean's "Waters of Babylon" is one of the most sad, and most beautiful songs that I know.

"Aubrey," by Bread

The 1970s musicians, Bread, were masters of sad songs. I could just as easily have mentioned their songs, "Diary" or "Dismal Day," but this one resonates with me particularly strongly because of its association with the miscarriage that Marci and I experienced in November of 2003. We never really named the child that we lost, but if we would have done so, I think the name would have been Aubrey. That autumn was a really sad season for us: because of the miscarriage, but also because of other factors. Whenever I hear this song, I am transported back to the emotions from that season of life.

"The Art Teacher," by Rufus Wainwright

I love story-songs, and I think this story about a high school girl who falls in love with her art teacher is an especially beautiful story-song. It speaks to issues of expectations, regrets, ideals, and unrequited love. The song is especially meaningful to me because it was given to me by my brother, Jay, who just so happens to be an art teacher himself -- but even without that connection, it would be a powerful song in its own right.

"Blessed Be the Name," by Matt Redman

I have to say that I actually prefer the Chris Smith version of this song (though I don't know of any recording for such a version), but I'll give the props to Matt Redman since he wrote the song. This song also has a strong connection with a particularly challenging season of my life -- the summer of 2003 -- when I had to really put my faith to the test and see if I could genuinely bless the name of the Lord, even in the midst of difficulty. Almost every time this song is sung in a church worship gathering, I feel myself getting choked up... in a good way.

"Barcelona," by Queen

I honestly have no real idea why this song hits me the way it does. I actually feel kind of silly when this song brings out the tears in me, and I can't fully explain the reasons why... But it does. This is the song that I heard on my headphones this morning, and I had a good cry over it. I just love the chorus, when the band bursts into the word, "Barcelona." There's such power and emotion in that section for me. My earliest recollection of the song is from the 1992 Olympics, so maybe the tears have something to do with that experience or that time period in my life; but I genuinely can't explain it logically. It just makes my list because it's one of those "Songs that Make Me Cry."

What about you? What are some of your favorite sad songs -- or perhaps I should ask in terms of emotionally-overwhelming songs? What are some songs that make you cry? Perhaps with some friends' recommendations, I can add to my playlist.

Have you ever heard the song, "Who Let the Dogs Out?" by the Baha Men? It was annoying when it came out in 2000 -- and it's become iconically-annoying in the decade since.

Well, imagine that song filtered through the annoyance of the Literal-Translation Game: translating from English to Dutch on the fly, without much thought for cadence and syncopation, without much thought for the peculiarities of syntax and figurative language, without any concerns regarding the number of syllables to be crammed into any particular line of the song. It's a fun game for foreigners to play (I admit that I am a regular participant in this activity); but it's also pretty darn annoying for anyone else who has to listen to it. And it's especially annoying for anyone to listen to the Literal-Translation version of the Baha Men's "Who Let the Dogs Out?" -- or perhaps I should say "Wie laat de honden los?"

And now, imagine this scenario specifically involving a group of nine-year-old boys -- singing the song together any time that the word "dog" is mentioned in their school classroom, any time they go out onto the school playground, or any time that they feel like it on a school field trip or a moment of boredom. That's taking the annoyance to a whole new level. It sounds almost unbearable. Almost impossible.

Yet in talking with Elliot yesterday, I learned that this scenario is not only possible. It's practical reality. It's happening in Elliot's class at school. And my son is one of the main perpetrators of this phenomenon, conspiring with two other boys in the class to bust into "Wie laat de honden los?" whenever the moment arises. Unthinkably annoying, isn't it? Yet believe it or not, I'm actually entertained by the thought. He must be a chip off the old block -- or perhaps I should say, "een stukje vanaf het oude blok" -- after all.

One of those things about the Internet -- as lovely and as useful as it has become for day-to-day life -- is that all that electronic information and ease of publishing makes it nearly impossible to keep down embarrassing secrets from the past... like my brief stint in the 1990s with a show choir named the Keynotes. Apparently, some Hollywood reporter dug up some photographs and newspaper articles from back in the day and started trolling around on the internet to research and update the story of the Keynotes. Consequently, just today I've been informed that Entertainment Weekly is going to be publishing a piece about the history of show choirs in the state of Ohio -- presumably cashing in on the popularity of the current television series, "Glee" (the story of a high school show choir in Lima, Ohio) -- and this particular piece is going to include a side-bar story about the Mansfield Keynotes and (you guessed it) its lead singer, yours truly...

April 20th will be the date of publication, from what I understand, when the story should be getting posted on EW's on-line edition. The timing, of course, is coordinated to highlight the end of Glee's second season and the beginning of the Midwest Regional Show Choir Competition, which happens every year in early May. As outlandish as the TV show can be, it's actually based on reality. Part of me is flattered by this attention to my "fifteen minutes of fame" back in the 1990s -- but honestly, most of me is embarrassed. It feels a bit like being forced to walk through Amsterdam's Centraal Station, wearing nothing but a sequined Speedo swimsuit over my midsection and a coordinated bowtie around my neck. So why am I scooping the story here on my own website? Well, the way I figure it, it's better to be open about it and laugh about it -- rather than trying to hide it -- since these things always find a way to worm themselves to the surface, one way or another. And if I can start by setting the record straight here on my own website, it can help to prevent misinformation and magnification of the embarrassing elements of my background in music and performance. Yes, I was in a number of different youth choirs -- including the Keynotes -- growing up. Yes, we did choreography and "golden oldies" from the previous generation's pop culture ouevre (like Glee's New Directions sings soft rock from the 1980s and 1990s, part of our schtick was that we dressed up in 1950s regalia and sang doo-wop tunes to adoring audiences across the Midwest). But that's seriously about the extent of it.

"Frog in a Kettle," for instance, was not the dark and twisted chapter of "my musical career" that so many make it out to be. I wouldn't be at all surprised if this upcoming story is going to rehash a bunch of the old press garbage which said I was merely an opportunist -- riding the wave of the Keynotes so that I could get my own role in a Broadway musical (short as its run may have been), even though the Keynotes kind of fell apart after that experience. This is perhaps a story for another time, but I'll just start by saying that the producers of "Frog in a Kettle" sought me out, not the other way around -- and I even did my best to lobby for the inclusion of other members of the Keynotes. But anyway, that's neither here nor there... I loved my years with the Keynotes, and I'm also proud that I had the opportunity to star on Broadway for a brief season of my life. But I'm also happy to leave those experiences in the past and not get caught up in reunion tours or anything silly like that. It's not a lack of willingness to associate with the other guys from the Keynotes. It's just moving on.

Up until now, I've kept quiet about this chapter of my life because of the hurt feelings, the conspiracy theories, and -- honestly more than anything -- the general social stigma against show choirs and glee clubs (though I've been happy to see public perceptions changing, through recent phenomena of pop culture like Glee and Clash of the Choirs). I confess that I've tried to keep this dustbunny of a history swept under the rug. But if it's going to come out now, I might as well own it, right?

Your laughter and disbelief are to be expected. I deserve it, even, so bring it on. I've probably had it coming, ever since I blew the cover on my friend Todd's experience as a classically-trained tap-dancer. And I've grown up enough through the years that I can now laugh at myself, as is necessary for getting through embarrassments from the past like this.

But don't forget that you've probably got embarrassing secrets from your past, too. As the news of this stuff from the past starts leaking out, feel free to laugh and smile and even rib me about it a little bit. But be nice, please. And if any of my old friends or family members have any video footage from those early Keynotes performances, please be so kind as to burn them and not allow their transmission into the world of YouTube! :-)

Jim Henson was a genius when it came to depicting grumpy guys. There were Waldorf and Statler, the two old guys on the Muppet Show who sat up in the balcony and heckled the cast. There was also Sam the Eagle. There was Bert, the surly counterpart to affable Ernie. And naturally, what conversation about Jim Henson's grumpy guys would be complete without an acknowledgement of Oscar the Grouch?

Henson had a way of depicting these grumpy characters that was not only spot-on and eerily-reminiscent of real-world, human grouches... But he did it in a way that allowed them to actually be laughable and loveable, too. Even when Oscar is at his grouchiest, he's not necessarily "the Bad Guy." He's just being a grouch -- in the same way that I can be a grouch sometimes, or that my children can be grouches sometimes.

Have you ever heard the Grouch Anthem, from the film "Follow That Bird?" It's Henson's grumpy guys at their best.

Grouches of the world, unite.
Stand up for your grouchly rights.
Don't let the sunshine spoil your rain:
Just stand up and complain!

Let this be the grouches' cause:
Point out everybody's flaws.
Something is wrong with everything
(Except the way I sing).

Don't let the sunshine spoil your rain:
Just stand up and complain!