A large part of my collection was destroyed earlier this year, but I still have visions of the world’s largest stockpile of Christmas music dancing in my head.
I cherish a handful of songs that I “must” hear each yuletide season, but my reach inevitably exceeds my grasp as I try to “have it all.”
Part of that is attributable to my wife. She’s no Grinch, but she detests being bombarded with a month’s worth of silver bells and reindeer-trampled grandmas at home, so I must squeeze in precious moments of listening at work and in my car. In the latter venue, my divided loyalties mean the songs are interspersed with talk radio. It’s amazing how smoothly “Mary, did you know?” segues into “No, because the Deep State hid it from me. From all of us!”
Christmas is special to me because it’s when the old-style crooners get to shine. Imagine, singers who actually articulate. Singers who don’t feed the microphone all the way down to their spleen. Singers who don’t get drowned out by a teeth-rattling guitar solo that lasts longer than the quest of the Magi.
Ah, the classic song stylists. My hobby gives me the opportunity to compare and contrast umpteen renditions of perpetually popular songs. Granted, I feel disloyal when I discover a version almost as good as what Bing, Judy, Dean, Frank, Elvis, Perry, Andy or Burl produced. Sacrilege! (I’ll be home for Christmas … unless the house is haunted by jealous legendary performers.)
Thanks to YouTube, I also get the opportunity to discover underappreciated “lost” ditties such as the 1947 “Santa Claus For President.” (Perhaps the next Trump administration will declassify archived documents and finally reveal whether President Harry S. Truman did in fact ask “Are you sure we don’t have another A-bomb to drop on, I don’t know … the North Pole?”)
Every A-list artist, rising star, has-been and never-was seemingly has at least one Christmas album buried somewhere deep inside. Some are narcissists and don’t truly respect the source material. Trust me: Any time a song about snowmen or angelic hosts begins with “Oh, saaaay can you seeeeeeeee,” someone is showing off.
But who am I to stand in the way of other people’s dreams? There’s something sweet about hearing “Ever since I was a little tyke, I always dreamed of growing up to record a Christmas song. That, and biting the head off of Ozzy Osbourne.”
It’s fascinating to see how many agnostics, atheists and Baal worshippers are eager to belt out spiritual Christmas songs. (“Joy to the world, the royalty check is come! Let Earth receive her Almighty Dollar!”)
I love to discover which songs people adore and which ones drive them crazy. I’ll never forget the fellow who gets triggered by Paul McCartney incessantly warbling “Simply having a wonderful Christmastime. Simply having a wonderful Christmastime.” (“I wanna hold your throat, I wanna hold your throoooooat!”)
Don’t fight it. Join me in reveling in Christmas music.
The right mix of seasonal music can help you maintain tranquility during the stressful holidays. Peace on Earth takes some preparation, because often you’re less interested in decking the halls than in decking your know-it-all in-laws.
Now I’ll put “White Christmas” on the MP3 player. Hey, this version is even better than …
Uh oh.
Oh, I want an exorcist or two for Christmas. Only an exorcist will do …
Danny Tyree welcomes email responses at tyreetyrades@aol.com and visits to his Facebook fan page “Tyree’s Tyrades.”