Waitresses: "Christmas Wrapping"

Wrapping up this first edition of my Christmas blog is the best Christmas song of all time. You can have "Fairytale of New York", "Last Christmas", "Happy Xmas (War Is Over)" and "All I Want for Christmas Is You". I like all of them — even if I can't quite see what the fuss is over the latter and would prefer to listen to the far more restrained version by Lady Antebellum than the over-the-top stylings of Mariah any day — but none are able to bring out every possible emotion connected to the holidays that "Christmas Wrapping" does. In a sense, it combines all of my thoughts and feelings about the previous thirteen entries on here into one. The heartfelt sweetness of "Thanks for Christmas" and "Saviour's Day" is present, as is the wit of "Alan Parsons in a Winter Wonderland" and "No-One's Trying to Stop You Saying Christmas". The magic of "England's Carol"? Absolutely. The spark of "Jingle Bells"? Yup. The hint of melancholia like "Dance of the Reed Flutes"? The spirit of "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas"? The uncanny ability to make me dewy-eyed like "Long Way Around the Sea"? The vague resentment of "Doesn't Often Snow at Christmas"? The sass of "Not Tonight Santa"? The anticipation of "Driving Home for Christmas"? The irresistible hooks of "Angel of Harlem"? Check, check, check, check, check, check, check.

But there's more to it. Far, far more. Generally speaking, Americans tend to go for fantasies in their Christmas favourites. Some involve imagining a Yule season that the vocalist knows will never happen like "White Christmas" or "I'll Be Home for Christmas" while others describe a rose-tinted/delusional ideal as in "All I Want for Christmas..." and "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year". They can get irksome after a while but it's hard to deny that they don't capture the wonder of the season of kids who can't sleep the night before and wake up just beside themselves with excitement.

On the other hand, the British have a habit of sneaking in some realism which, as I discussed previously, may actually be as fabricated as the American school. How many people listen to Noddy Holder sing "Does your granny always tell you that the old songs are the best / Then she's up and rock 'n' rollin' with the rest" and answer, "yes, as a matter of fact she does!"? Probably not many. My grandmothers certainly never did and, indeed, no one else in my family ever rock 'n' rolled either. Does the average Christmas commuter really feel as cheery as Chris Rea in the face of heavy traffic? This supposed authenticity can result in material that can be a downer but it's hard to deny that they don't capture the irritating relatives, crummy presents and the dreariness that inevitably accompanies every Christmas.

"Christmas Wrapping" is effectively the only combination of American fantasy and British realism in the Christmas song. Spinning the tale of a girl meeting a guy over the past year in a series of disastrous results while also expressing frustration with the usual fuss of the holidays, our narrator admits to actually loving Christmas but is in desperate need of a break from it this year. Spending Christmas alone doesn't strike me as something one would choose to do but I suppose it's possible but feelings of dread surrounding it certainly are, even if they're seldom dealt with carols and seasonal hits. Questions abound: shouldn't she have given up on this guy she's been chasing all year by now? Aren't the members of her family somewhat miffed that she's spurning them in favour of sitting at home alone with the "world's smallest turkey"? And, damn it, what do Americans see in canned cranberries anyway? Don't they know how easy they are to make and how much better they are?

It's impossible to say how realistic it all is but it's easy to get sucked in so it doesn't matter either way. And even if you are hard-hearted about the story then try to dislike the tune with its chunky guitars, booming sax and pounding beat. Impossible. For the rest of us, take pleasure in the sad story — though it's worth pointing out that her nibs refuses to feel sorry for herself — gone good, identify with loving a season that can also provide you with unspeakable stress and torment, reflect on all the wonderful, horrible and indifferent Christmases you've had that are all summed up in this one indie rock song and sit back and enjoy this, the most thrilling and touching festive song ever. I'm going to go put it on again.

And that's it for another year!

Phil Cooper: "No-One's Trying to Stop You Saying Christmas"

Greg Lake was correct about how we get the Christmas "we deserve". He was dead wrong, however, about political correctness killing the holidays. (And even if he happened to be right about the latter, why would he care? A PC Christmas is, after-all, the one we all deserve, right?) With TV news reporting on isolated cases of elementary schools holding 'winter festivals' and big, bad municipal bureaucrats not allowing groups to display nativity scenes in public places it is easy to get caught up in a rage of the free speech warrior who claims you can't say anything anymore. ("Anymore" being over the past twenty-five years or so when anti-PC sentiment began; you'd think these people would have gotten used to how you can't say anything by now) One might even begin to believe some of the most trivial incidents of people uttering criticism as part of some conspiracy to control us. 

Like the Pet Shop Boys with "Doesn't Often Snow at Christmas", this is the type of subject that needed hitting back at in song. Singer-songwriter Phil Cooper might have been able to cash in had he taken the opposing point with a little ditty called "Everyone's Trying to Stop You Saying Christmas" (the anti-PC side being the one with access to right wing funding through think tanks and wealthy donors; us anti-free speech types just don't have the funds yet) but it would have been a hackneyed rehash of all the same old shit we're always hearing about. A message of "nope, you're not actually being chased down by politically correct thought police" isn't simply accurate, it's original.

Cooper doesn't belabour the point: he brings up a couple examples of PC hysteria, easily quashes them (or, more generously, puts them into perspective) and things begin to wind down in just over two minutes. He could have elucidated but what would be the point? The lovely melody could have also gone on but it leaves the listener wanting more (and if you do indeed want more, why not check out his website, his YouTube channel and/or his Twitter). A great song that is the real voice of free speech: you may choose to say "Merry Christmas", others may say "Happy Holidays" and let's just leave it at that.

Pet Shop Boys: "Doesn't Often Snow at Christmas"

The sun is shining, the grass is green,

The orange and palm trees sway.

There's never been such a day

In Beverly Hills, LA

But it's December the twenty-fourth,

And I am longing to be up north...

With climate change, "Last Christmas" could start to take on a new meaning. Until then, however, it will be a rich man's whinge, particularly when it includes the above verse which is often excised from recordings. Bing Crosby even knew better than to include it. It's more than a little hard to swallow the concept of wealthy Californians bemoaning the holidays due to the weather being too good. Surely Bing or Robert Goulet would have been able to afford a cabin on Lake of the Woods or a ranch just outside of Boise, Idaho where he could have escaped just to try to have a shot at this white Christmas he so cares for. Aren't there more important things he could have worried about?

"Doesn't Often Snow at Christmas" is not exactly "West End Girls" or "Left to My Own Devices" or "Being Boring": it isn't one of their classics and even the deepest PSB follower likely wouldn't be too bothered if it was suddenly erased from existence. Like XTC's festive single, it's the kind of thing I like mainly because I've always been a fan. Nevertheless, it's a Christmas song that only they could have written and one that desperately needed doing.

Use of irony in Pet Shop Boys' songs has always been overstated but it's hard to deny that it doesn't play a part in their work. Where earlier songs like "Opportunities" and "Shopping" display pure spitefulness for its own sake, they later began to show some empathy with the subjects they were dunking on, such as in "Miserablism" and "Shameless". "Doesn't Often..." describes a typically lousy Christmas full of obnoxious family members, uninspired presents, boring conversation, crappy food consumed off of tacky TV trays and pitiful jokes inside Christmas crackers. Yet, it's a nice holiday because it's spent with someone special. I'm not quite as willing to forgive all the rotten aspects of Yuletide but I can appreciate the sentiment.

"The Christmas message was long ago lost / Now it's all about shopping and how much things cost": I'm not there has ever been much a message to the Christmas season — A Charlie Brown Christmas certainly doesn't clear up the matter in my mind — but commercialism doesn't ruin it. The holidays being increasingly secular means that there are more opportunities for everyone to do their thing and bring their own meaning to it. As long as we're all happy then we needn't worry about any bloody message.

We also have the main difference between American and British Christmas songs. While Bing Crosby and Mariah Carey and Frank Sinatra all deal in Xmas fantasies that can never be attained, Slade and John Lennon and the Pet Shops manage to squeeze in some realism - even if it happens to be as manufactured as their American counterparts. "Do the fairies keep him sober for a day?", "So this is Christmas and what have you done?", "Nothing on the TV that you want to see": these don't capture the Christmas you dream of but the Christmas, in the immortal word of Greg Lake, "we get we deserve".

Girls Aloud: "Not Tonight Santa"

Christmas songs connected with sex are often problematic. Despite the prudish times, two of the best known date back to the early fifties. Jimmy Boyd's famous recording of "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus" caused a stir that it was explicitly promoting sex, particularly the kind between obsese gift-giver and miserable, lonely housewife. It was Boyd's quivering vocal that had me feeling uneasy since I could never be sure if the singer was a little boy or a dirty old man. (But at least the terror in his voice didn't give away the game: most covers are delivered with a winking "yeah, I know who Santa is" tone which clearly misses the point. They really ought to cover Buck Owens' similar "Santa Looked a Lot Like Daddy" which doesn't have a punchline they can ruin)

Also from around the same time is "Santa Baby". Again, the original is the most effective with Eartha Kitt doing her best to be sultry with Old Saint Nick while subtly implying that she's a lonely, penniless young woman who is so desperate for so happiness that she's reduced to trying to seduce the big guy. Subsequent covers by Madonna and Kylie Minogue do all right with the sex kitten side but completely ignore quite why a lass would feel the need to beg his nibs for a prezzie.

So, the originals are best but they're still pretty creepy. What we need is a song that throws together real sexuality in less dire circumstances and which doesn't have to warp the mind of a child. Is that too much to ask?

Happily, that's exactly what we have with "Not Tonight Santa" by Girls Aloud. Eschewing presents and stockings and everything Father Christmas stands for, ver Girls just want a little rumpy pumpy for their holidays. Though adults, they're trying to come off as girls trying to get away with an illicit booty call at their boyfriend's place ("your baby sister sleeping and your daddy's on the phone"). Similar to Kitt's reading of "Santa Baby", they're living in a world without Christmas presents but they've making the best of it as long as their guy is there to give them a little sack time ("No stocking this morning but that don't make me blue...").

Though I'm no fan of girl groups and twenty-first century dance pop, I gotta admit there's a tune here.  I used to have a colleague who reckoned that the rules of Christmas songs flouted those of normal pop. Singers and bands you'd never have anything to do with might serve up a seasonal number that you couldn't resist. I might be able to resist any of these ladies but I can't resist their bit of holiday hot stuff. I'd wish for it to be covered by other artists in the future but they'd no doubt ruin it too.

Grandaddy: "Alan Parsons in a Winter Wonderland"

Serious jazz recorded in a swanky concert hall? New age claptrap? Some evangelical nonsense? What are you playing at, Margach? Fine, here's an entry on a cool group with a wickedly smart rendition of a Christmas treat. 

Hipster Christmas novelty songs used to be a thing - and still are, for all I know - and they were once appealing. They brought something refreshing to the stale, old classics that we've all been exposed to countless times over the last century or so and give them a touch of lightness and humour that they badly need. Too bad, then, that they were done by hipsters who dished up far too much irony to minuscule audiences that looked just like them.

Grandaddy were once the, well, grandaddies of hipster bands. They checked all the required boxes: vocalist Jason Lytle sounded like Neil Young's even whinier little brother, they rocked beards that ranged from bushman to Lincoln and they were a big favourite of David Bowie. Their second album The Sophtware Slump was the fashionable album of 2000 (it was described as that year's Soft Bulletin, which had been 1999's Deserter's Songs, which had been 1998's whichever Pavement album had come out a year earlier) and it was brilliant. A concept album about a wasteland of broken down, obsolete technology, it was very much the album that would have soundtracked Y2K had everything gone to crap. Even though the clocks kept ticking, our computers kept running and out porn kept downloading, it was still a product of its time like The Virgin Suicides and Celebrity Deathmatch and No Logo.

It seems only right that Grandaddy would take their lo-fi space rock and apply it to a Christmas song - and nice of them to do something of interest to such an inconsequential number as "Walking in a Winter Wonderland". The song's opening has always mildly annoyed me ("Sleigh bells ring: are you listening?": uh, yes, I am listening and I don't hear any damn sleigh bells; is it so difficult for a producer to suggest adding them to just one version of this song?) but at least the studio is a setting in which sleigh bells have been heard. Rather than wandering through a mythical Bavarian town covered in snow, we're treated to the magical world of a wintry recording studio. Alchemical effects conjured up by the likes of Joe Meek and Scratch Perry can be as spectacularly seasonal as anything done by old schoolers.

Feeling, perhaps, like small timers, Lytle and his fellow Daddies fantasize about a doing sessions with a hot shot production wizard. Todd Rundgren, maybe Lindsey Buckingham, the sort of sonic genius they grew up worshipping. Alan Parsons is cut from a not dissimilar cloth and he comes from the world of progressive rock which might be where the hearts of Grandaddy truly belong. While The Alan Parsons' Project's "Time" is namechecked, it could be that Lytle is thinking more along the lines of his work on rock cornerstones Abbey Road and Dark Side of the Moon. Either way, Grandaddy worked in the medium of indie but aspired to full blown mainstream pop-rock. Not such hipsters really. Maybe not even all that ironic.

Anyway, back to something less than cool. How's about some yuletide rumpo?

Cliff Richard: "Saviour's Day"

You probably don't like this song. You might well find it hectoring, self-righteous and sickeningly pious. You might also be put off by the synthesized pan pipes and the overall dated sound and production. Perhaps the singer gets on your wick royally. Or maybe it's all of the above — and, indeed, maybe there are many more elements of this you dislike that I haven't even mentioned. And I would mostly agree with you except for one crucial aspect: I like it.

I followed the race for the UK Christmas number one in 1988 and figured like most youths that it was either going to be teen sensations Bros with their double A-side "Silent Night"/"Cat Among the Pigeons" or the cozy duet of TV/real life couple Kylie Minogue and Jason Donovan with "Especially for You". These were far from the best singles on offer — the choice cuts included the Pet Shop Boys' "Left to My Own Devices", New Order's "Fine Time", Erasure's Crackers International E.P., Neneh Cherry's "Buffalo Stance", Inner City's "Good Life" and U2's "Angel of Harlem" — but they seemed like the only two that stood much of a chance. During the first week of December Bros began to fall, their loyal (at least for the next year) teen following having bought up their copies a week earlier with fewer remaining record buyers interested which seemed to open the door for the Australian couple. But then Cliff Richard edged them out for the top spot and he stayed there for the rest of the month. Repeated plays of "Mistletoe & Wine" every Sunday on the chart rundown and every Thursday night on Top of the Pops did not allow for the single to grow on me and I was only too pleased for January to roll around just to see it rapidly drop off.

I was back in Canada a few months later but I tried to follow the British music scene as closely as possible back in those pre-internet days. One of my main sources of info was Good Rockin' Tonite, a weekly Vancouver-based music videos and interviews program that I never missed and which would give regular updates of the UK top five singles and albums. I tuned in one night around Christmas, 1990 and learned that "Saviour's Day" by Cliff Richard was at the top spot, giving him another festive number one. I missed Britain greatly back then but I was rather glad to be in Canada at least for that week.

I probably wouldn't have liked it at the time but adulthood was when I had my belated maiden listen to "Saviour's Day" and I was pleasantly surprised with how much I dug it. The chilled atmosphere of peasants patiently waiting and making their journeys home is touching and I can't help but sing along with the refrain at the end. Where Richard attempts to be all things Xmas to all people in "Mistletoe & Wine" (but only ends up meaning it on the religious bits anyway), "Saviour's Day" is much more in line with his own view of the holidays. It's all about Jesus (unless ver "King" happens to be Elvis) and how we all need him in our lives and "life can be our's". He is calling us, calling us, you know. I'm not buying what our Cliff is selling but I buy him, if only just this once. (It no doubt helps that's it's possibly his finest vocal since "Miss You Nights") 

Sure, all of the above complaints are valid but Richard is hectoring, self-righteous and sickeningly pious and we're supposed to be true to ourselves. The synthesized tune probably ought to bother me but I'm such a sucker for such stuff and I'm not convinced that guitars and pianos and "real instruments would improve things any (not unlike Paul McCartney's similarly maligned "Wonderful Christmastime" which is better off being so synth heavy). Yeah, he gets on my wick — especially in the awful video which spoils the frozen medieval wastes vibe in the song — but it's something I can overlook if the record is half-decent. I probably ought to hate it but I'm awfully pleased that I don't.

Tom Ewing, in a relatively sympathetic review, points out that "Saviour's Day" isn't even a Christmas song since the holiday isn't mentioned at all. I'd say that it's clever rebranding of the holiday away from its commercialization and secularization. Those PC types are clever, aren't they? They render the term Christmas meaningless and then won't even let us use it. It's almost as if political correctness was just some made up nonsense meant to distract us, right?

Dan Gibson's Solitudes: "Dance of the Reed Flutes"

"Paul?" Mum whispers on the other side of the door. "Are you up? It's Christmas."

"Okay," I mumble. "I'll be down soon."

It seems like only yesterday that I was the first one up on Christmas morning. That I was the one waking them up. I wouldn't have imagined dragging myself out of bed to open presents. Having them get me up.

I no longer live here but Mum asked me to stay the night. She didn't say so but I'm guessing she doesn't like the idea of me waking up on Christmas morning in my apartment all alone. 

I dress and go to the bathroom before going downstairs. I deliberately look away from the living room so I won't be confronted with presents. Even at the age of twenty-four, I'd rather not spoil the surprise.

I give Mum a hug and wish my parents a Merry Christmas. The coffee is on so I help myself to a cup. Dad is reading and doesn't seem to be in any hurry to get to the presents — and neither am I.

We empty our stockings and I am quite pleased with the booty. No one fills a stocking like my dad and he's managed to outdo himself this year. He found all my favourite British chocolates and there's a good-sized bottle of pale ale from Ontario that I've never heard of but which is sure to be delicious.

We get to opening presents and I begin to feel a bit down. I'm not disappointed by anything but my mind is distracted by the mess I've made of my life. My apartment is way too expensive and I don't earn nearly enough to afford it. I can't stand my job and I always come home exhausted, not wanting to do anything but veg in front of the TV every night. All I've ever wanted to do is write but I never do any. I want to take a trip somewhere but I don't have the money, I don't have the time and I can't decide where to go. I recently got dumped over the phone by a girl who doesn't respect me, shattering the little confidence I had left. All my friends seem to be going places and what the hell have I been doing? And all of this might be fine if not for the fact that I can't imagine a way out. I'm going to be poor, lonely and miserable for the rest of my life. 

No wonder I can't muster up much enthusiasm for the grilled-cheese sandwich maker from Grandma Betty.

~~~~~

After breakfast, I shower and get dressed into some nicer clothes. I flick through the the copy of On Equilibrium by John Ralston Saul from my uncle Dave. He always picks out good books that I'd never choose for myself and I'm certain to enjoy this one but I'm not in much of a mood start in on it today.

I ask mum if she needs some help with Christmas dinner but it's too early to be of much help. She gets much of the meal out of the way the night before so she's hardly stressed. She suggests I put on some music.

I go to the living room and flip through the half-dozen Christmas CD's but I already know which one I'll be putting on: Solitudes Christmas Classics. It's been a favourite of mine ever since she bought it about a decade ago, though I wouldn't say so to anyone outside of our household. New age relaxation music is for yuppies, not someone like me. 

Going back to my book, I read a couple pages, while tuning out Delibes' "Pizzicato". "Skater's Waltz", the second track, gets my attention as I remember going skating at Bowness Park on Christmas afternoon in 1985. The frozen lagoon was almost always crowded but on that day we practically had it all to ourselves. I long for Christmases that were that much fun.

Lounging on the couch, I begin to stare at the Christmas tree. "Dance of the Reed Flutes" comes on I turn to look out the window. There are still the remnants of snow on the ground which qualifies as a white Christmas in my mind. Not that it matters much.

The next door neighbours walk their friendly German shepherd past our house and I smile a bit. The lightness of the music is beginning to put me in a more positive frame of mind. I happen to know that it's from The Nutcracker but I couldn't tell you when it's featured. My mind thinks back to seven years earlier when I went to see the holiday ballet with my then-girlfriend. I remember feeling aspirational back then and try to imagine what I might need to do to feel that way again. I'm relying, I realise, on girlfriends to validate me and I have to figure out how to get that way without them.

The song lulls me daydreaming and I soon find myself tapping my feet to the synthesized reed flutes. Worries should be shut off for the rest of the day. It's Christmas, there's a turkey slowly cooking in the oven and my folks still believe in me. Maybe that's enough for today. Time to eat too much, drink too much and let the love affair with Christmas come back.

Modern Jazz Quartet: "England's Carol"

The week between Christmas Day and New Year's is usually rather fun. You're not yet tired of leftover turkey, there are still plenty of chocolates to munch on, presents are still fresh and you may have even hit the malls to get some more stuff with all your Christmas money. There was even the chance you might have received tickets to a play or a hockey game and late-December is always a good time for a night on the town. Back in the day people would even get dressed up and go to a steak house or a Chinese restaurant and finish the night off with drinks at a swank hotel bar. It was called an evening out.

If you happened to be in New York in the autumn of 1974 you might have had the chance to enjoy an evening out at Avery Fisher Hall to see the Modern Jazz Quartet's swansong show. Held three days prior to Thanksgiving and a month before Christmas Day, it would have been an appropriate way of getting the American holidays started for anyone lucky enough to have been in attendance. Doing a Christmas carol, as well as "Skating in Central Park", would have been a nice way to get everyone in the seasonal spirit (even if they're countered by hothouse scorchers "Summertime", "A Night in Tunisia" and "Concierto de Aranjuez").

John Lewis, Milt "Bags" Jackson, Percy Heath and Connie Kay had been recording and touring as the Modern Jazz Quartet for close to a quarter of a century when they decided to disband in 1974. During their time together they released dozens of outstanding albums, pioneered third stream jazz (the merging of jazz with classical music), took small groups out of the clubs and into concert halls and even got signed up to Apple. But it was on this night that they drew the curtain on their association (for the next seven years, at least) and recorded the greatest live album of all time.

There are a lot of seasonal jazz albums out there. Obviously there's the famed soundtrack to A Charlie Brown Christmas by the Vince Guaraldi Trio and my personal favourite Ella Wishes You a Swinging Christmas. There are also many various artists compilations available, which, for some reason, all feature "Deck the Halls with Boston Charlie" by Lambert, Hendricks & Ross but exclude the MJQ's exquisite rearrangement of "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen", which they retitled "England's Carol". Now, the MJQ aren't as highly thought of today as they were forty-five years ago and have a dull name with members who aren't badasses like Miles Davis or tortured artistes like John Coltrane or playful mavericks like Thelonious Monk but there must be more to why they've been consistently spurned by compilers (and it's not as if the above mentioned L,H & R or Pony Poindexter are especially big names in among current jazz listeners either).

Perhaps it's too perfect and far too serious for the masses. Jackson's vibraphone playing is as thrilling as ever and he ought to be ranked alongside Monk and Charlie Parker and Bud Powell as a pre-eminent bebop soloist but it may sound precious and staid compared with the wails and squeaks and squaks of a tenor sax great. Similarly, Lewis, always a highly respected composer, tended to be overlooked on the keys and his classic, bluesy style must have seemed old hat even by the mid-seventies. (An MJQ novice a decade ago, I often wondered what was so 'modern' about them since they seemed as old fashioned as they come)

Yet, "England's Carol" deserves to be a holiday classic in its own right and they never bettered the version from The Complete Last Concert. Their interplay is exceptional, with these four gentlemen in their fifties responding to one another and pushing each other to greater heights. The fact that this is just some trifling old English folk song is irrelevant as they tackle it as if it were a Duke Ellington or a George Gershwin composition. Their standards being so high, they weren't about to settle for treating it like a novelty. The perfect sound of an evening out at Christmastime or, failing that, a night in with lights on the tree, the fireplace going and plenty of mulled wine. A perfect Christmas, at least for those five minutes.

Booker T. & the M.G.'s: "Jingle Bells"

I've already stated that a big problem with most Christmas records is that artists fail to add anything of value to them and it's mainly down to familiarity. Much as I hate to judge a book by its cover, it's generally pretty easy to know a holiday album is going to be lousy just by looking at the sleeve. One particular giveaway is that they're too reliant on covers that we've all heard and sang countless times before.

The exception is with Booker T. & the M.G.'s and their superlative 1966 album In the Christmas Spirit. Being one of the most accomplished foursomes in the business and always more than happy to cut loose when free of sessioning for various Stax label singers, they weren't about to sleepwalk their way through a festive release just because that would have been the expectation. Their recordings of "White Christmas" and "Merry Christmas Baby" are a case in point: having done outstanding recordings of the two, with Booker T. Jones' mellow organ playing a standout on the former and Steve Cropper's bluesy guitar soloing the highlight of the latter, they were more than ready to do them again as a holiday release for Otis Redding. This time, however, it is the vocalist's extraordinary performances that light up the both sides of the record, the talented house group putting in a typically competent performance that lacks the flash of their instrumental work.

A good thing, then, that they never had to back Wilson Pickett or Sam & Dave on a rendition of "Jingle Bells" since they would have had to cede control or, heaven forbid, push vocal duties to the background. They're all on form with Jones doing some inspired vamping, Cropper playing his typically clipped, improv-friendly style and Donald "Duck" Dunn and Al Jackson Jr. keeping a furious but steady pace. When I first heard it, I joked that it should've been called "You Can't Hurry Christmas" and no one laughed or even feigned amusement. Nevertheless, there is a beat that is not unlike classic Motown, something Stax enthusiasts would likely thumb their noses at but which indicates how open and in love with all styles of music this multi-racial combo was. Indeed, the very fact that they'd do a dozen Christmas songs tells you all you need to know about their catholic tastes, with their vocalist label mates apparently not nearly as interested in similar projects.

It's possible that numbers such as "Jingle Bells" also represent a turning point for the M.G.'s. Coming off the success of "Green Onions" in 1962, the group fell into a pattern, possibly driven by pressures from their label, to keep the fantastically catchy novelty tunes coming. Not only did they struggle to recreate the commercial fortunes of their initial smash but their creativity began to stifle with well-made and quirky singles, such as "Chinese Checkers" and "Mo' Onions", that proved to be more of the same. Their grittier side was only just beginning to peak through and the aggressive playing on this otherwise innocuous seasonal favourite was an indicator of where they'd be heading. Tight playing, a powerful sound and some southern drive and all because of a Christmas record. 

It's not everyday you find a quartet of brilliant musicians working almost telepathically, pushing each other forward. Like a jazz group or something.

U2: "Angel of Harlem"

A swizzle! "Angle of Harlem" isn't a ruddy Christmas song! No, indeed it isn't. Neither is Frankie Goes to Hollywood's "The Power of Love" nor East 17's "Stay Another Day". You know what else? "Jingle Bells" isn't a Christmas song. Except they all are because that's what they've been made into. And so it is with the shimmering shards of ver 2's top ten hit from December of 1988.

Having hit it massively big in the US a year earlier, U2 were happy to return the favour with their sixth album, the all-things-Americana Rattle & Hum. In one way or another there are tributes to, covers of and collaborations with Bob Dylan, Jimi Hendrix, Bo Diddley, B.B. King, The Beatles (notably, not an American group but the misguided "God Part II" is a nod to John Lennon, the Fab Yanks tend to be fondest of) and Van Dyke Parks. But it's with "Angel of Harlem" that Bobo,The Hedge and the other two found themselves most in over their heads. A stirring tribute to vocalist Billie Holiday, it nonetheless left them unable or unwilling to go full-on jazz. Indeed, there's a very real sense that they don't know what their talking about as Bono sings of "Birdland on fifty-three / the street sounds like a symphony / we got John Coltrane and A Love Supreme / Miles, and she's got to be an angel": if I didn't know any better, I'd swear they don't what they're talking about. What exactly do Miles Davis and John Coltrane have to do with Lady Day? Lester Young was much closer to the singer both personally and professionally and he merits nary a mention (although he does turn up in the video which, incidentally, appears to celebrate U2 much more than any jazz great you care to name).

Not that this meant anything to me at the time (and, I dare say, quite a lot of other young people); I hated jazz back then and would have been relieved to hear that they decided to ape sixties' soul in order to best give props to a legend who (a) died in 1959 and (b) performed within a different genre. Doing so may well have been lazy or it could have been done out of sheer ignorance but, either way, it was for the best. The Irishmen may not know their Artie Shaw from their elbows but they are well-versed in Stax and Motown. (It's a wonder why they didn't just decide do a tribute to the similarly deceased Sam Cooke or Otis Redding instead) If there was ever any doubt about the influences they were attempting to mine, then all doubt is removed the moment the Memphis Horns kick in.

In truth, "Angel of Harlem" is far more effective as a Christmas song than as an ode to a legend. With The Pogues having reinvented the holiday classic twelve months earlier with "Fairytale of New York", the 2 may have had something similar in mind. But where Shane MacGowan and Kirsty MacColl laid the city's sleaze bare, Bono chooses to celebrate being caught up in its magic ("New York like a Christmas tree / tonight this city belongs to me") while paying his respects to a figure who wasn't so lucky ("God knows they got to you"). There's little sense that he recognizes it could just as easily be him. Yet, beyond all that, it is what James Masterton calls a "warm and comfortable" record and it earned regular spins in pub jukeboxes that winter all over the British Isles. And it conjures up images of London at Christmas time: old men selling bags of chestnuts outside of tube stations, the homeless begging for change, Hamley's done up like a palace. In attempting to sound American, U2 never seemed so British. 

So, how did the soul acts that U2 revered handle doing not-quite-Christmas-songs? They played tight, fast and to-the-point. Let's have it.

Chris Rea: "Driving Home for Christmas"

Pop Music Fan Theories That Will Blow Your Mind!

8. Chris Rea's "Driving Home for Christmas" and "The Road to Hell" are about the same trip to and from Middlesbrough

Chris Rea is remembered mainly for three songs. One of them is "Fool (If You Think It's Over)" which is only fondly recalled by people of a certain age. The other two — closer to my own certain age so they aren't similarly blighted — are both about hitting the road. It's not for nothing he was at least once described as the "English Springsteen", you know. What you may not be aware of is that they're (possibly) about the same Christmas trip.

Humming in his car while stuck in traffic on the way up to his hometown of Middlesbrough, which in typically confusing Brit geography is actually in the north of England (though south of Sunderland which is practically knocking on the door of Scotland), Rea began composing "Driving Home for Christmas" just to pass the time. The lyrics describe the tedium and frustration of holiday congestion, feelings which are overshadowed by his excitement of spending Christmas with his family. His optimism ("but soon they'll be a freeway, yeah / get my feet on a holy ground) will likely be dashed

What we don't hear about is how the Rea clan actually celebrated but it may be pieced together based on how everyone spends the season, with perhaps a sprinkling of how a moderately famous rock musician does Christmas. First, he arrives carrying bags of presents and is greeted by everyone with handshakes and hugs. Then he's asked about not appearing on the telly in a while and older relatives begin to look at him in judgement, wondering when he's going to get a proper job (later, a drunken uncle comes right out and says this to Chris while others do an unconvincing job standing up for the singer). An elderly relation questions his wisdom of choosing to reside in London "where all the darkies live" but he assures her that he's happy and safe. The food is good and there's plenty to drink so he has a decent time overall but the family is starting to wear on him. He decides to regale them with his latest tune, composed, he says, on his way up here but he knows they'll only want him to trot out "Fool..." because that's the only one they know.

Three days of this is more than enough so Chris decides to head back down to London after breakfast on Boxing Day. He claims to have a gig that night which is always a nice excuse. Traffic heading south is just as bad at was the other day and now he only has his dreary flat awaiting him. The red lights and tailbacks aren't as easy to take this time round and he begins to get testy. He felt a kinship with other drivers while heading up to Middlebrough but now they're all getting on his nerves. Stopping at a Little Chef in Rutland proves to be the last straw: the burger is as remarkable as ever, the only people who recognize him are the kind of people he dearly wishes wouldn't and it takes an age to get back on to the motorway. A brooding tune comes to him as it begins to darken and London draws near. As he approaches the M25, he whispers in a low, menacing voice, "oh no, this is the road to hell". And another song is born.

~~~~~

The above isn't strictly true but, then, it's a fan theory so what does accuracy have to do with anything? While now one of Rea's most enduring numbers, "Driving Home for Christmas" failed to catch on back in 1988 and was significantly outpaced by a fifty-year-old dark horse flop from yodeller George Van Dusan (not to mention an awfully creepy-sounding number from Bobby McFerrin).

This indignity aside, Chris Rea had a bona fide holiday classic on his hands — one that's probably earned him more money than any of his actual hits. As for a holiday favourite that proved to be a legitimate contender for that year's Christmas Number One sweepstakes, we shall see tomorrow. Even if it isn't about Christmas at all.

Ella Fitzgerald: "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas"

There seems to be very little to say about the established Christmas classics. They've been around forever, everyone knows them and they always sound the same no matter who performs them. This is probably why holiday albums are never much cop: what can a group or singer do with a bunch of tunes that are so familiar except make them just like everyone else? Even when some originality is brought into play — as in the famed A Christmas Gift for You from Phil Spector — it only results in more copycats to the extent that it's impossible to imagine "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town" being sung differently before 1963.

Christmas songs being so pervasive also means that very little thought is put into the words. We all know them back to front so what's the point of having to consider meaning? When Frank Sinatra went to composer Hugh Martin about revising the lyrics to "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" he wanted to "jolly up" the song a little. A nice thought for the season but it misses the point. The line he objected to was "until then we'll have to muddle through somehow", hardly Louvin Brothers doom and gloom. The song is all about overcoming hardship to enjoy a modest family Christmas but it also looks forward to a brighter future with "faithful friends" and getting everyone together ("if the fates allow"). Muddling through the next twelve months was apparently too much for Old Blue Eyes and he requested it be excised in favour of "hang[ing] a shining star upon the highest bough". A nice thought but not something that fits in with the overall mood.

Three years later, Ella Fitzgerald, conductor Frank DeVol and famed Verve Records producer Norman Granz went into a studio in New York to work on Ella Wishes You a Swinging Christmas, a work that stands proudly alongside the vocalist's lifetime of top notch records — and a far cry from phoned in hack work you normal get from holiday albums. I don't know if they considered using Sinatra's version but they ended up going with the muddling lyric. She wasn't looking to jolly things up (versions of "Jingle Bells", "Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!" and "Rudolph" are there for some cheer) but neither does she dwell in misery. Yes, this family is going through some tough times (I can't help but think that Martin and lyricist Ralph Blane were thinking of the Great Depression, which the United States was just getting itself out of, when they wrote it) and they very well may continue but they need hope, especially if they're to have a decent Christmas. A slice of what the average working family was going through may very well be poison for the festive season but Fitzgerald makes it sweet, engaging, optimistic and, yes, a bit sad since I get the feeling things aren't turning around for these people any time soon.

I have a recent Christmas tradition of tweeting (scratch that, thinking of tweeting: I really lack the stones for social media) Ella Wishes You a Swinging Christmas > A Christmas Gift to You from Phil Spector. It's something I stand by (a little of bit of wall-of-sound girl groups goes a long way for me) but I don't wish to come across as trashing one album in order to build up the other. It's all taste in the end. At any rate, much can be learned from both. Producers and musicians could do worse than explore the Spector Christmas for some inspiration; budding vocalists ought to do the same with Ella's and learn a thing or two about how to sing a Christmas classic.

Low: "Long Way Around the Sea"

"And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them: and they were so afraid. And the angle said unto them, "Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger." And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, "Glory unto God in the highest, and on Earth peace, good will toward men. That's what Christmas is all about Charlie Brown."

— Linus

But is it? Is it really? Linus van Pelt quotes scripture well for a little boy who sucks his thumb and carries around a security blanket wherever he goes but does he really communicate the true meaning of Christmas that Charlie Brown and generations of impressionable kids are able to understand? I was about eight-years-old when I first saw A Charlie Brown Christmas and I liked a lot of it. But Linus' speech? I didn't get it then and it's still lost on me. What's a saviour unto us God-free secular types going to do? I never fretted like Charlie over the meaning of Christmas — and, indeed, no one did, the special's story of a child being depressed by not understanding the season now seems like an early form of a straw man that Chuck Jones could easily knock down with the heavy Christian message - because the holiday had its own meaning in my family.

So, the religious meaning of Christmas is lost on me but I come closest to getting it with Low's Christmas, an eight-song mini album released in 1999. In truth, the bulk of it I can give or take. Though running for less than half-an-hour, I typically never get past the third track, a drone-heavy though still lovely version of "The Little Drummer Boy". "Just Like Christmas", the opener, is also brilliant, a Spector-esque production and the breeziest performance to date from the Minnesota slowcore overlords. But it is the second track which makes it all so special and spiritual. "Long Way Around the Sea" is the religious song we can all get behind.

Sung from the perspective of the Biblical Magi (yes, them again; I swear we've fulfilled our Kings of the Orient quota) on their journey to Bethlehem, it's uncertain — since, you know, I'm not so good with religious texts as Linus — if they're taking the lengthier route to get to their destination or if it's for the return trip, though surely if Herod was that keen to find out what's going on he wouldn't order them to take even longer to get there. So, I guess they're going out of their way so as to avoid his nibs on the way back. I'm sure old Herod won't suspect anything to be amiss at all, no sir.

Yeah, I'm a glib man but I don't mean to be while discussing such an outstanding and heartfelt song. It is whispered beautifully by Alan Sparhawk with wife Mimi Parker joining in for the ethereal chorus. A classic example of Low's simplicity, it's easy to imagine "Long Way Around the Sea" captivating live audiences, religious and heathen alike, with it's stillness and majesty. A sure-fire concert highlight, it deserves to be a standard and one that church choirs the world over could do with. 

For unto us is a song of deep meaning that we may all enjoy and be touched by. That's what Christmas songs are about, Charlie Brown.

The Three Wise Men: "Thanks for Christmas"

A lot of us need a song to kick start Christmas. For many, it's hearing Slade's "Merry Xmas Everybody" that gets the holidays going — and, in particular, Noddy Holder's fearsome scream of "It's CHRIST-MAS!!!" near the end. For others, there's the Celtic loveliness of "Fairytale of New York" by The Pogues that puts them in the Christmas spirit. Some probably really get in the mood the first time they play Mariah Carey's "All I Want for Christmas Is You" (either that or the first time it's foisted upon them in a shopping centre or grocery store or cafe) even if it's never done a whole lot for me. But then, I never used to have that seasonal hit that got Christmas underway.

XTC's Christmas single is by no means a classic. It pales in comparison with the likes of "Making Plans for Nigel", "Generals and Majors" and "Great Fire" and many of their other superlative songs. Even as holiday specials go, it treads water somewhat. If Andy Partridge had been trying to tie as many cliches together then "Thanks for Christmas" is nothing but a huge success. Yule logs, excited kids, wishing it could be every day of the year: yup, it's got 'em all. As we'll see in this blog, British Christmas songs often have a tinge of reality to them that makes them charming but there's not a trace of it here, even though the bit about "Santa's reindeer yawning" comes sort of close if I'm being generous.

Being XTC, however, it still works. Partridge's chords and melodies are masterful and, even though they were heading down the dumper by this stage of their career, he puts them to good use here. Putting aside his bile for the holidays means he's not caught up in an issue to spoil the song — he was getting very political by this point which wasn't a good fit for him — but his deadpan delivery gives the trite lyrics some life.

"Disguised" as the Biblical Magi, Partridge (Melchoir) and mates Colin Moulding (Caspar) and Dave Gregory (Balthazar) had a curious knack for becoming more themselves as they took on new identities. They would soon transform themselves into The Dukes of Stratosphear which would give them a creative second wind leading to their masterpiece Skylarking. Were they too embarrassed to do a Christmas song as XTC? Were they afraid their small but devoted fanbase would react badly to such a thing? Either way, I'm happy to hide my critical faculties for the moment when we get to "You've been saving your love up, let it out, 'cause Christmas is here!" and that's when the holidays begin for me. A nice way to get this blog going too.

A pity about the horrible B side though.