O, not-so-silent night
When else can you listen to “Santa Baby” on repeat?
By Molly Freedenberg 12/22/2005
I blame it all on my mom: the affection for everything Christmas-related, the penchant for even the cheesiest of traditional carols, the soft spot for Christmas cover songs, all of it. It all goes back — and what doesn’t? — to early childhood.
When I was growing up, Christmas was truly magical. Mom transformed the house with twinkling lights and fabric advent calendars and crystal ornaments hanging from glass. We moved all the furniture in the living room to accommodate the biggest tree that would fit under the roof — and even had to cut the top off the tree one year because we overestimated how tall that would be. Every Christmas Eve, we watched a holiday movie and left cookies (or, some years, fat-free Snackwells and light eggnog) for Santa.
And then there was the music.
Mom was a music major, so her tree-trimming musical choices were Handel’s Messiah, carols by a cappella virtuosos the Roches and versions of Baroque and Renaissance songs done by famous orchestras. In the car, we sang along to the Roches’ sillier songs off We Three Kings, like versions of “Frosty the Snowman” and “Winter Wonderland” done in New Jersey accents. And when we sang carols around the piano at our annual party for friends and family (yes, we actually did this and, yes, we actually enjoyed it), we always included some of our favorite I-can’t-believe-these-are-real holiday songs from school pageants like “Pablo, the Reindeer from Mexico.”
The result? I’m still this way. I still think Christmas is a magical time. I now find myself arguing with my boyfriend about whether we can move the dining room table out of the house to make room for a 15-foot tree. And I’m obsessed with holiday music — or, at least, certain holiday music.
I’m excited when December rolls around because it means I finally get to play It’s Finally Christmas, a compilation album by Tim Kerr Records, with the Dandy Warhols singing “Little Drummer Boy” and Pond doing “Gloria in excelsis Deo.” Not that I haven’t been known to play holiday songs all year round — Adam Sandler’s Chanukah Song, for example, is a perennial favorite — it’s only in December that I’ll really pull out the whole collection.
It’s even a time when I’ll tolerate songs I otherwise wouldn’t: I like Joan Jett’s version of Little Drummer Boy during the holidays, for example, which is a song I otherwise find almost grounds for dismissing JJ from her place in my heart as Greatest Rocker Chick Ever.
But I’m proud to note that I’m not subject to liking every Christmas song that comes around. I’d rather stick forks in my eyes than listen to most of the holiday songs made by pop stars in the ’80s and ’90s. The only reason I can tolerate cutesy trash like “Santa Baby” or “Rocking Around the Christmas Tree” is because I performed jazz dance numbers to them as a kid. And I never go searching for Christmas compilations. If they don’t find their way to me, usually by way of a recommendation from a trusted music lover, then I’ll never have them.
Luckily, mom’s master’s degree legacy also left me with discretion.
But give me a good song from South Park about a Jewish kid at Christmastime, or even a gorgeous traditional version of “Oh, Holy Night,” and I’m yours. At least, until December 26.
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