My earliest Christmas memories revolve around pandemonium. I was one of a brood of eight, so I remember adrenaline, noise, flying wrapping paper (along with a few elbows), and eventually, once my parent’s careful under-tree arrangement of pretty packages had been completely destroyed, the smell of Dad’s pancakes from the kitchen. I find that I remember almost none of the presents themselves after all these years, my memories seem to have sifted down to the most important part of the holiday, the togetherness and gratitude for being in that house on that day with those people. And, of course, because of where we lived, lots and lots of snow.
One present I remember very clearly, though, was a box of small plastic NFL helmets that I have no doubt was my most played-with gift ever. The elaborate football games I created with them on my bedspread for months, if not years, after had some of the most exciting finishes in the history of the sport, likely because the players those little helmets became in my head weren’t bound by pesky rules like gravity and physics. If there was an NFL team I didn’t care for in the real world, I could make their quarterback fumble the game away in the most embarrassing situation possible in my room. I’m not certain I didn’t create the butt-fumble decades before Mark Sanchez came along. It was a gift that needed no batteries and did nothing on its own but opened up infinite possibilities with the addition of imagination. All those years, all those presents, and that’s the one I remember – there was a kind of magic in it. I tried to find that same magic formula in gifts for my own kids as they were growing up, and now I look for the same for my grandkids. A key to unlock a young imagination is one of the greatest gifts you can give during any season.
Christmas music back in those days came at us from everywhere, especially school. We sang it in the classroom and practiced it on the stage for the annual Christmas play. One of my earliest memories about anything, I’m fairly certain this is from kindergarten, is fretting about not quite getting a handle on the words to “Silent Night,” and trying to fake my way through it, moving my jaw up and down like a ventriloquist’s dummy. The phrase “‘round yon virgin” didn’t mean anything to me at that age, so the words just weren’t sticking. Another treasured Christmas music memory happened a few years later when my friend Richard fainted and toppled forward while we were all singing “Hark the Herald Angels Sing” on the school stage. Thankfully, the same parka, snow pants, heavy mittens, and hat that caused him to overheat and pass out in that stuffy room in the first place cushioned his fall quite effectively. In my memory, he bounced when he landed.
There were only two local radio stations in our neck of the woods, so when they both switched over to a Christmas music format for the month of December, they essentially played the same thing all day, every day. Department and grocery stores piped in Christmas songs which, to no one’s benefit, eventually became Christmas muzak. The local TV station, back in the days when local stations still supplied much of their own programming, would put local church and civic choirs on in the evening to make sure we were getting our minimum daily requirement of “O Holy Night” and “Little Drummer Boy.”
It’s hard to shake that deep level of indoctrination as you get older, I found. As my interest in (and access to) music exploded over the years, I realized Christmas records were available in almost any genre you could imagine – rock, punk, ska, jazz, calypso, metal, you name it. I’ve listened to a lot of them, but except for a tiny handful of outliers, they don’t really give me the holiday feels like the classics. So, this batch of favorites is going to be heavily weighted toward albums that have been played as an accompaniment to gift-wrapping and eggnog slurping for many, many years, with just a couple of contemporary ringers. I hope the list introduces you to some excellent holiday tunes you may not have heard, and I’d love to hear about favorites of yours that I missed.
• The Vince Guaraldi Trio, A Charlie Brown Christmas (1965) – If you only own one Christmas record... Yeah, a big part of the appeal is its connection to the perfect visuals of the cartoon, but as a listen on its own Vince’s jazz trio is a holiday delight. Ideal background music for decorating the tree, spewing sprinkles onto iced cookies, and enjoying time with family and friends. The album is roughly twice as long as the cartoon, all the show’s musical snippets become full-length songs played with a lilting jazz swing. You can’t help but feel the Christmas spirit and get the urge to prop up a sad little tree, preferably with help from a beagle.
EARWORM: “Linus and Lucy” - Go ahead, try not to visualize the Peanuts characters doing that goofy dance while this one is playing.
• Elvis Presley, Elvis’ Christmas Album (1957) – Back when the King was still scaring parents. His versions are a little bluesy, a little rocking, and, dare I say it, a little sexy. This release caused quite a stir the year I was born, so Capitol released a Frank Sinatra Christmas record that same year as alternative for the Eisenhower conservative crowd. But it was too late, the Elvis dam had already burst. Rock and roll was upon us, even at Christmastime.
EARWORM: “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” – When my daughter was very little, I used to sing this song to her in an often unsuccessful attempt to get her to fall asleep on December nights. It was Elvis I was hearing in my head back then, but I could never quite capture his unique pronunciation of “mess-el-toe.”
• Johnny Mathis, Merry Christmas (1958) – This one never leaves my list for a couple of reasons. First, Johnny was ubiquitous on the airwaves way back then, my parents never missed his holiday TV specials. Second, he completely defined one classic song and claimed it as his own. I simply don’t believe anybody else’s version of “Winter Wonderland” (Sorry Annie Lennox).
EARWORM: “Winter Wonderland” – The sound of snow falling lightly on strolling young lovers. The late-50s version of young lovers, of course, heavy wool mittens, scarves, and fantasizing about marriage, not sex.
• Norah Jones, I Dream of Christmas (2021) – It’s too soon to tell if this one will become part of my permanent holiday playlist, but I sure have enjoyed the first couple of listens. I’m a sucker for her voice, like every other fan, and there’s a nice combo of classics and new songs written for the occasion. Her usual piano-led lounge jazz arrangements are in abundance, and I can verify they go very well with a side of whiskey and nostalgia.
EARWORM: “White Christmas” – Maybe it won’t make you forget Bing, but it sounds great while you go over your gift list with a TV fireplace flickering in the background.
• Ella Fitzgerald, Ella Wishes You a Swinging Christmas (1960) – A Smithsonian-level national treasure of a Christmas album, woefully overlooked. That voice, crystal clear like church bells on a winter’s night. That swing, you can happily dance around the tree to this one. Perfect for a holiday crowd or for personal toe-tapping while wearing knitted reindeer socks.
EARWORM: “What Are You Doing New Years Eve?” – In the middle of all the Christmas celebration, Ella looks forward to the new year. An absolutely breathtaking holiday ballad. And geez, she could sing like few others ever have.
• A Christmas Gift for You from Phil Spector (1963) – I thought about including The Beach Boys’ Christmas Album that came out a year later, but the real U.S. chart toppers during the before-the-Beatles-changed-the-world years were the girl groups. Here you get the cream of the Phil Spector crop - Darlene Love, The Ronettes, The Crystals, and Bob B. Soxx and the Blue Jeans - at the peak of their popularity. A huge wall-of-sound, dramatic vocals, and tons of pure fun, just like their best singles from the era. It all works amazingly well as joyous holiday music. Put it on or stream it at your next Christmas party and you’ll be convinced.
EARWORM: The Crystals, “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” – Like getting scooped up by a Christmas snow plow. Hang on and enjoy.
• Nat King Cole, The Christmas Song (1946) – This one is on the list for the same reason as Johnny Mathis. Can you really hear anybody else singing the title song? I can’t. It’s the sound of a fireplace and roasting chestnuts and tipping a little more booze into your eggnog ‘cause you know you’re not going anywhere on Christmas Eve.
EARWORM: “The Christmas Song (Merry Christmas to You)” – The beating heart of all Christmas music, with Nat’s beautiful piano playing as a bonus.
• The Minus 5, Dear December (2017) – I’m going to guess that 99.99% of folks reading this have never heard, or heard of, this record and that’s a damn shame. It has something none of the other records on this list have; I can happily listen to Dear December in July, October, tax time, any season at all. The perpetually under-the-radar Scott McCaughey is the brains behind these catchy, all original, indie pop/rock holiday gems. He got about as famous as he was destined to get when he took the job as touring guitarist for his buddies in R.E.M. He brings a couple of them in for this one, along with the wonderful Kelly Hogan on background vocals (seriously, look her up). The band tosses a couple of equally delightful new Hannukah songs into the mix, making this a true one-size-fits-all holiday record and great fun to listen to anytime, anywhere.
EARWORM: “New Christmas Hymn” – The Minus 5 open the record with this song, expressing the need for a new batch of holiday songs. The rest of the album makes their case convincingly.
• A Very Special Christmas (1987) – Sadly, the law of diminishing returns applies to this series of Christmas compilations, started to raise money for the Special Olympics and featuring artwork by the one and only Keith Haring. There are ten volumes now, the last released in 2013, and each successive release captured a little less of the magic of Volume 1. But the original is glorious, with artists as diverse as Springsteen, Run-DMC, The Eurythmics, John Mellencamp, and Whitney Houston offering unique and often thrilling interpretations of both pious and party holiday songs. There are other great songs to be found on the subsequent volumes, but none of them fully captured Christmas candlelight in a bottle like this one.
EARWORM: The Pretenders, “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” – Chrissie takes things personally, singing a perfectly beautiful and perfectly haunting version of this holiday staple. You can easily imagine the Ghost of Christmas Past peering over her shoulder during the recording.
• A Dave Brubeck Christmas (1996) – Just the maestro himself, sitting at the piano and bashing out holiday favorites. He never stretches the songs beyond their recognizable melodies, but he does have some fun embellishing them a bit. Although you can happily put this one on and leave it in the background while you trim stuff, listening closer will immerse you in an amazing array of moods and textures. The man was simply a jazz piano genius.
EARWORM: “Silent Night” – The stair-climbing intro before he gets to the song’s familiar melody is exquisite.
• Wynton Marsalis, Crescent City Christmas Card (1989) – Some “serious” jazz devotees diss Wynton as being a bit lightweight in his composing and playing. Frankly, I think they’re full of reindeer poo. His jazz albums are meaty and satisfying and his classical recordings are possibly even more impressive. Like the title says, this album is an affectionate Christmas card to his hometown of New Orleans. Wynton’s playing throughout is sly, bluesy, and full of winking humor. Moments like a big-time guest, opera soprano Kathleen Battle, having her stately reading of “Silent Night” shaded by Wynton’s slinky muted trumpet solos, or the frontline horns that make “We Three Kings” sound like it’s being played for late-night paying customers in a small NOLA jazz club, provide a generous amount of joy to the world.
EARWORM: “Sleigh Ride” – For the other cut with a vocal, Wynton brings in the great Jon Hendricks, one of the truly legendary jazz singers.
• A Prairie Home Christmas (1994) – This one comes with its fair share of holiday baggage. Even those of us slavishly devoted to his weekly Prairie Home Companion radio show weren’t surprised to learn that Garrison was something of an ass, right? He always sounded cranky, even while creating 42 seasons (!) of laughs and music on PHC and was given to some real head-scratching public statements over the years. Minnesota Public Radio officially cut ties with him in 2017, and there’s no earworm link I can offer for this one because Spotify has decided not to include anything from it among their estimated 70 million tracks.
And yet, this collection of songs and skits from PHC’s always memorable Christmas shows is a yuletide delight from start to finish, the perfect record to play on Christmas Eve. You get carols from world-class bluegrass musicians, sound effects master Tom Keith turning “The Twelve Days of Christmas” into a gut-bustingly funny romp, and a hilarious skit about GK’s generous gifts to the PHC crew that include a (mostly unwanted) puppy for everybody. Polkas, jokes, a tender carol in Danish, the holiday news from Lake Wobegon, there is simply Christmas joy and celebration bursting out of every minute. If you can ignore the somewhat soured backstory, this is still a seasonal highlight. I haven’t celebrated Christmas without it since 1995, but you do you.
• Oscar Peterson, An Oscar Peterson Christmas (1995) – It’s Christmas Eve, the presents are wrapped and under the tree, somehow you managed to get the kids to settle down, you have your favorite toddy in hand, it’s time to relax. Oscar’s gently swinging, jazzy Christmas playing will allow you to snuggle in and enjoy those few cherished moments of peace and stillness. A pianist with a delicate touch, a sophisticated sense of rhythm, and a telepathically tuned-in group of backing musicians, Oscar was born for this moment.
EARWORM: “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” – With guest Jack Schantz’s lovely flugelhorn soloing, a glittering Christmas gem.
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