As is traditional around here (and by "in here" I mean in my brain) I like to do a little roundup of Christmas music - the good, the bad, the really really terrible, the stuff that makes you cry. I find that if I'm having a little trouble getting into the Christmas Spirit it helps quite a lot to kind of force things by playing Christmas music all the time - and thanks to the magic of Pandora I can make that happen pretty much anywhere I go. It does wonders - because I don't care how grumpy you're feeling or how irritated with work or family or whatever - when Mariah Carey sings "All I Want for Christmas is You," you bob your head. You just do, unless you're not human or have a heart two sizes too small, like The Grinch.
It could be because I was a kid in the 90's, but I think pretty much all of my generation will agree with me that not only is Mariah Carey the undisputed angel-goddess of Christmas singing, but that her iconic 1994 Christmas album was probably her peak career moment. Because she was never more perfect than she looked on that cover, sitting in the snow in that cheesy girl-santa costume with all those twee 90's ringlets.
Also at this time of year you have to love the classics like Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin and Bing Crosby. And Nat King Cole's version of "The Christmas Song" is warm, fuzzy, eggnog-drinking perfection. And if anyone happens to ask me to sing a Christmas song (which you can do if you want, not making any garauntees about the result) I will pick this one every time.
I say this every year, but even though I am not in any way, shape or form a fan of country music in general these days, I will pull out the 1984 Alabama Christmas album (or download it on my phone) every single year. Okay, if we're being honest, a song called "Thistlehair the Christmas Bear" is completely ridiculous and makes not one bit of sense, but I know every single word. And there's also "Tender Tennessee Christmas" and "Joseph and Mary's Boy," and if the one about sitting around the tree and reveling in the sparkle of your loved ones' eyes doesn't make you tear up, then once again...Grinch. I am 31 and have a mortgage and a kid and a career and all that demanding stuff, but when I hear this album I am immediately ten years old and snuggled into the backseat of my parents' van in some flannel pajamas, sleeping while we drive through the night to visit grandparents for Christmas morning. Sometimes my parents also played it on Christmas morning while we all woke up and opened presents and had devotion time together. It's my childhood holidays set to music. Probably because my dad was an Alabama fan in general, but whatever. It totally works for me. Also I think it behooves us to keep this kind of very strong imprinting in mind when we are playing music around our kids while they are forming important memories...quality counts. But that's another sermon for another day.
And while Christmas music can really warm the cockles of your heart (what ARE heart cockles, by the way, someone please tell me) some of it really, really stinks. I'm looking at you, "Little Drummer Boy." I seriously never want to hear from this little boy ever. Most annoying kid of the year. Most of this song is not even WORDS, just sounds that neither people nor drums ever actually make. Just like a great carol can make me smile immediately, I will instantly feel anger as soon as I hear "pa rum pa pum pum." I mean, what even. Just...no.
For the same reasons (annoying repetitiveness), I also hate "Silver Bells" and "Do You Hear What I Hear." Ugh, someone pass me a pencil to shove into my ears. Christmas ruined.
This is a new one to this year, but for some reason I just cannot get rid of Michael Buble on any of my streaming Christmas channels, because apparently that guy has recorded every Christmas song ever written. And made them all sound exactly the same. It's like I can just see him grinning and snapping his fingers in a tuxedo while he homogenizes the entire Christmas music canon. Somebody stop him. Please. Also Josh Groban. Stop them both. I just can't deal with the sap.
Christmas is almost here, homies. Next week...couch snuggling holiday movies!
sspears@blythevillecourier.com