Buttkickin’ Holiday Songs: “Bears” — Zebra (1984)

This grew out of a review I first wrote on Hokeyblog back on 12/18/2012, but I’m expanding it here because, frankly, I have even more thoughts now. And since it’s mine, I get to tinker with it however I dang well please. So there.

Strictly speaking, Bears — Zebra’s atmospheric 1984 prog/rock/metal single — is not ostensibly a holiday song. Nothing about sleigh rides, no sentimental crooning. No charming Christmas metaphors involving chestnuts or holly or wassailing or any of that.

And yet…

This song feels like winter. Like a cold, atmospheric December sky stretched over an snow-covered forest.

But the song is anything but a stark, frozen iciness.

There are the shimmering xylophone chimes. The orchestral swells. The choir-like keyboards vocals that roll in like an icy shimmer reflecting moonlight off its edges. The whole thing sounds like you’re standing at the mouth of a frozen forest, watching your breath rise as something ancient stirs in the darkness.

Because, to quote Bambi, Man is in the Forest.

And yes, it’s literally a song about hibernating bears, written by a band called Zebra, which is delightfully weird, and I refuse to pretend that isn’t one of the reasons this track delights me every year. But I’m also a huge Zebra fan and saw them live in 2024 and was thoroughly entertained throughout the entire set. All their albums are great but ZOWIE that first one is a classic.

But I digress. The real reason Bears belongs in a holiday playlist has nothing to do with zoology, prog-metal theatrics, my concert-loving proclivities, or winter sound design.

It’s the mood. Underneath the layered guitars, the orchestral synths, and Randy Jackson’s soaring vocal lines, there’s a quiet ache running through the song. Something contemplative. Something fragile. Something earnest. A sense of longing and fear and hope that fits the season more than most deliberately “festive” tracks ever manage.

And the lyrics hold a strangely comforting resonance when the world outside feels cold and uncertain:

And in the middle of loving,
I hope you’ll find a place in your heart for them

Maybe he literally means bears. Or maybe it’s the vulnerable, the unseen, the forgotten, or the lonely. Or especially the victimized.

Simply a reminder that in the darkest part of winter, compassion matters.

The thing about Zebra is that they were always a little unquantifiable. Maybe too prog for the metal crowd, or too metal for the prog crowd, or too earnest for the cynics, or too whatever for the casual listeners. But with Bears, they stumbled onto something rare: a song that feels simultaneously huge and intimate, powerful and gentle, wintry and warm.

So yeah, maybe Bears is not a traditional holiday song. But it evokes that strange emotional landscape we all recognize this time of year: that heady mixture of nostalgia, melancholy, wonder, and that flicker of hope that carries you through the cold nights. Especially if you’re huddled in your cave, waiting for the worst to pass, just to see light again.