It came upon a midnight clear: a theremin keening in the town square. In the still of a holiday eve, the sound tore through the air. Some folks liken theremins to modern bagpipes, but they have a modern, electronic, techno sound that’s ideal for soundtracking small cities.

The late-night live theremin concert was the brain(snow)storm of DJ Dingleberries, who changed his name to JInglebells for the occasion.

Who listened? In a way, everybody. The sound of that electrically enhanced metal structure spread into the stratosphere. You could certainly hear it clearly several blocks away.

DJinglebells played all original stuff—even the best theremin air-strokers have trouble with covers—but it certainly sounded Christmassy, evoking the mysteries of the ages.

After half an hour (with Jing saying he was prepared to play all night), there was a complaint, and the show was shut down for lack of permits. Face it, if animals started to talk on Christmas eve, somebody somewhere would want to shut that down too. Sometimes magic gets shut down. But it doesn’t stop being magical.