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!
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!
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