Though my family chose to exclude me from Christmas tree ornament hanging festivities this year, I have decorated all previous trees in tune to a burning log. The hunk of wood I’m referring to is not a chorusing, inflamed Woody Guthrie or Kenny Loggins, but an electronic yule log brought to me by Music Choice.
Christmas music has been a prominent part of the Christmas culture for as long as we’ve celebrated the birth of little boy Jesus. Even my priest is prone to referencing Springsteen lyrics in the midst of holiday scripture readings. But what makes Christmas music so scared that the masses feel over joyous when a song as seemingly silly as “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas” pops up on the radio?
When a song becomes embedded in a culture, marking itself as a traditional and durable composition, it is simply asking for artists to revitalize with the coming of each new generation.
Every artist imaginable has come out with a Christmas compilation (Weezer, Boyz II Men, John Denver in collaboration with The Muppets, Michael Bubble, Alvin and The Chipmunks…the list goes on and on). Therefore, I feel obligated to discuss the sounds of the season just as Christmas fanatics and Scrooges alike have done so before me.
Let me start off by saying I don’t have a vendetta against Christmas music so much as I have a very low tolerance for it. As we drown in the toxic body of water I call consumerism between Thanksgiving and Christmas, holiday music is played through every portal in homes, malls, gas stations and White Castles.
It is the water flavoring that makes the holidays a little bit more bearable but is still associated with the act of water logging. Metaphors aside, Christmas music is essentially a marketing tool used to promote and inflate the already blown up holiday.
If you were to run a Spotify search for, say, “Silent Night,” you’ll honestly scroll through hundreds of results. Why is it that every artist, prominent or obscure, feels the need to release a Christmas single? Put bluntly, obligatory Christmas albums tank because they are just that, forced. They stick to traditional hits and, thus, sing with no real inspiration, instead of opting to compose a jingle from the heart.
The most recent recognizable holiday classic has to be Mariah Carey’s early millennium hit “All I Want for Christmas.” My best friend Nick uses Carey and her spunky request for a lover as a means to warm up for swim meets all…year…long.
Just as some people leave their tinkle lights up for 12 months straight, some sick individuals purposefully allow Christmas music to continuously clog their air waves. I’m a strong proponent of delayed gratification; too much of a good thing (or anything for that matter) never treats you well. The longer you hold out for a song, the sweeter your ears will receive it.
Only when the timing is right will I engage in caroling. Christmas music is played much too early and sputters out right when I’m at my Christmas climax.
However, the aforementioned chipmunk CD was my first introduction to Christmas music and is now the epitome of holiday cheer for me. I can recite every piece of dialogue exchanged between Dave and his materialistic, furry sons. While the squeaky falsettos may annoy most, I find comfort in Theodore’s vocalized desire for his two front teeth.
The next Christmas music that rocked me later in my life came from Michigan singer-songwriter Sufjan Stevens. If you can’t get enough of Indie Christmas music, his two five-disc holiday music compilations, Silver & Gold and Songs for Christmas (count it, 10 discs and a combination of 100 songs), take a creative spin to your holiday classics.
His collection ranges from a 40-second original titled “Christmas Face” to a nearly 10-minute spacey, robotic version of “Do You Hear What I Hear?” These impressive numbers intrigue me; but how in the holy hell could someone find the spirit to record a blasphemous amount of Christmas cheer? More than half of his career can be allocated to songs revering an overweight, bearded Anglo-Saxon male.
The conventional Christmas songs that touch me are far and few and surprisingly religious: “Silent Night” and “O Holy Night.” Otherwise, I turn to alternative forms of holiday music, such as Adam Sandler’s infamous “Hanukah Song,” Bob Dylan’s “Blowin’ in the Wind” or Bon Iver’s “Blood Bank.”
While I am aware the latter two songs do not mention mistletoe or reindeer hooves atop roofs, I classify them as winter songs that can warm the soul as much as anything crooned by Bing Crosby.
I’ve probably cast myself in green Grinch light through this diatribe against the Christmas classics, but hear me out: Christmas music, just as the holiday it promotes, simply is not what it once was to me.
Growing up brings advantages such as a promotion to the big kids’ table or a glass of wine to wash down your stale gingerbread with, but it also means losing the naïve sense of innocent Christmas cheer only present in believers of the big guy.
I’m not dreaming of a quiet Christmas this year, just a white one with modest amounts of Crosby.
