So, whaddaya want for Christmas? Yes, it’s hurtling toward us.

We’ll again be dropping some Christmas tunes on you. But listen up:

Yes, our Three Under the Tree series will return in time for you to gather tunes for your Christmas mixes and parties, probably starting Thanksgiving weekend.

No, we won’t do it every day for a month as before. The Christmas season is enough of a grind without blogging like a madman.

So, back to you. Whaddaya want for Christmas? What tunes do you want to hear? The request line is open.

Can’t remember what we have? Just type “Three under the tree” into the search box at right to see what we’ve done before. We have a lot of stuff — way more than we possibly could post, so ask if you don’t see something you want — and a lot of quality stuff. No singing dogs.

Lacking requests, I’ll just go ahead and stuff your stocking.

If that happens, you run the risk of a post like one from last December — Day 19 — which delivered Christmas tunes from Run-D.M.C., Steve Lawrence and Eydie Gorme and the Tractors. As our friend JB said that day: “With this post, I believe you have just defined the term ‘eclectic.’ Or ’schizophrenic,’ I can’t decide.”

So, anyhow, Santa Claus. Right, yeah.

We could sure use a dude like that right now.

“Santa Claus and his Old Lady,” Cheech & Chong, Ode 7-inch single 66021, released December 1971. Available on “Where There’s Smoke There’s Cheech & Chong,” a 2002 compilation.

There. One less thing you have to request.

One of the biggest news stories of our time — the fall of the Berlin Wall — happened 20 years ago today.

It was one of those moments that you remember exactly where you were when it happened. And, yes, I do remember what I was doing when the Berlin Wall fell.

I just had no idea that it was happening.

That still bugs me, even after 20 years. Probably always will.

Nov. 9. 1989, was a Thursday. I might have been on vacation. I’d spent the previous weekend with my pals Hose and Tone, watching the Packers beat the Bears at Lambeau Field. We had another big weekend coming up. Road trip. The three of us were meeting in Milwaukee, then driving to Detroit to watch the Packers play the Lions and then returning to Milwaukee to watch the Bucks play the Spurs.

We did all that, downing plenty of beer along the way. But not that much beer. Not when there’s so much driving to be done.

I remember plenty about that weekend, but I still have no idea how I missed hearing that the Berlin Wall had fallen. We must have read the paper. We must have watched some TV. But it wasn’t until we got home that I got caught up on the big news story about a …

“Hole in the Wall,” the Bar-Kays, from “Soul Finger,” 1967.

It’s a funky little instrumental that could have been part of the soundtrack to that road trip.

And, yes, it’s the tune originally done by a group called the Packers.

Our friend Larry over at Funky 16 Corners is celebrating five years of F16C with more cool Beatles covers. Head over there and check out two new mixes and four older mixes.

Larry has been a guide, an inspiration and a good friend. We have plenty in common, and not just the music. On my wish list: Road tripping from Wisconsin to New Jersey just to soak in the vibe when Larry and his pals spin 45s at Asbury Park Lanes some night.

Here, then, as a small way of saying thanks, are five more Beatles covers in that same soul/R&B spirit. They’re more mainstream than Larry’s selections, but that just goes to show how deeply the man is digging it. Hope you will enjoy them nonetheless.

“Eleanor Rigby,” Bobbie Gentry, from “Local Gentry,” 1968. An almost perfect match of sultry singer, downbeat song and low-key arrangement. (Also covered on this LP, and not as well: “Fool on the Hill” and “Here, There and Everywhere.”)

“Get Back,” Al Green, from “Green Is Blues,” 1969. It’s out of print. (Al’s cover of “I Want To Hold Your Hand,” also from 1969, is much in the same sizzling vein.)

“Got To Get You Into My Life,” the Four Tops, from “Soul Spin,” 1969. A song made for the great Levi Stubbs. (This is a CD rip from “Mojo Beatlemania, Volume 2,” included with Mojo magazine in September 2004.)

“Let It Be,” Ike and Tina Turner, from “Workin’ Together,” 1971. It’s out of print but is available digitally. Listen to how Tina tweaks the lyrics to make this her own, then gives it a bit of a gospel feel. (Also on covered on this LP, and shared earlier by Larry: “Get Back.”)

“Come Together,” Gladys Knight and the Pips, from “A Little Knight Music,” 1975. Recorded while they were at Motown in the early ’70s, maybe 1971 or 1972. Sassier than you’d think.

Baseball season is almost over. That used to mean the start of an even more exciting time — basketball season.

Over a roughly 25-year stretch that started in the late ’60s and ended in the early ’90s, basketball was my great passion.

It was the game I hoped to play … until I got cut in seventh grade. It was the game I stayed close to as a team manager in high school … until they hired a coach everyone hated. It was the game I played into my 40s … until my ankles and Achilles said it was time to go.

The lovely Janet also was a basketball fan. We were fortunate enough to see lots of NBA games during the ’80s, when our once-beloved Milwaukee Bucks were good and when we were treated to playoff showdowns against Bird’s Boston Celtics and Dr. J’s Philadelphia 76ers at the old Milwaukee Arena. Do you remember the floor?

But those days are gone. The NBA is all but unwatchable these days.

Besides, it won’t be long before The Spectrum, where those Sixers played, will be gone, too. We never made it to The Spectrum.

Neither did our friends over at Barely Awake in Frog Pajamas, who nonetheless have written a lovely tribute to The Spectrum. It says everything I could have hoped to say about the place, from pretty much the same vantage points of distance and time.

They also dug up a great picture of Dr. J dunking on Lonnie Shelton. They also laid out some nice Philly soul. Here’s more from Philly.

“The Rubberband Man,” 1976, from “The Best of the Spinners,” 1978. Philly soul meets the dance floor. A tune that suggests the athleticism of the NBA that was.

“Cheaper To Keep Her,” MFSB, from “Love is the Message,” 1973. (It’s out of print, but the song is available digitally.) Philly soul meets jazz. A tune that suggests the sophistication of the NBA that was.

“Never Love Again,” Dusty Springfield, from “A Brand New Me,” 1970. (It’s out of print, but is available digitally.) This is Dusty in Philly, doing tunes written by Kenneth Gamble and Leon Huff (and Roland Chambers on this one), arranged by Thom Bell and performed by the studio musicians that became MFSB. An all-star lineup that suggests the NBA that was.

As long as you’re watching all those scary movies as Halloween draws near, enjoy Richard Pryor’s take on “The Exorcist.”

“Exorcist,” Richard Pryor, from “That Nigger’s Crazy,” 1974.

It was recorded live at Don Cornelius’ Soul Train nightclub in San Francisco in early 1974. The LP is out of print, but seven of its 11 cuts are on “The Anthology: 1968-1992,” a double CD released in 2002.

This cut is barely 2 minutes long, yet Pryor creates a completely new film, turning “The Exorcist” onto its spinning head.

He’d done the same to Westerns when he helped write “Blazing Saddles” in 1973. Wonder what that film would have been like had Pryor been cast as the sheriff, as director Mel Brooks intended, instead of Cleavon Little. That said, I can’t see anyone but Little as the sheriff.

I’ve seen “Blazing Saddles” dozens of times.

I’ve never seen “The Exorcist.” I think I’d enjoy Pryor’s version more.