In a frenzied, often frantic holiday season, “Snowed In With You” is a slow-brewing musical masterpiece. Warm. Inviting. And hopelessly romantic. It’s more of a winter seasonal song than a Christmas tune. The musical components that I like best: The violin. The upright bass. And Karin Bergquist’s vocal delivery. The song—and the entire Snow Angels album—put an infectious Americana spin on the time of year.
“When you come home and all the world's asleep, I'll close my eyes and breathe with sweet relief.”
One of the most original Christmas compositions ever recorded, “Wonderful Christmastime” was the song that paved the way for synth-based holiday tracks and the chillwave genre. It has become such a Christmas classic that it’s easy to forget how ahead of the times it was. There was an irony to the monotonous, soulless vocal delivery of the festive lyrics that somehow seems to get lost in the holiday shuffle whenever it’s played.
“The moon is right. The spirits up. We're here tonight. And that's enough.”
This is the Christmas song that doubles as a portal back to the 50’s. An era filled with Chevy convertibles, drive-ins theaters, malt shops and jukeboxes. The rockabilly vibes of the guitar and vocals captured the times. Today, no one sings like Brenda Lee, but “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” continues to get strong airplay and appearances on playlists decade after decade, riding on a wave of nostalgia.
“You will get a sentimental feeling when you hear voices singing, ‘Let's be jolly. Deck the halls with boughs of holly.’”
It may not be the first Christmas song you think of. It may not be the kind you hear all that often either. But it’s the type of Christmas song that stays with you long after you hear it. By stripping out all the instrumentation, the Westminster Choir recorded maybe the most powerful version of “Carol of the Bells” ever. The ensemble of voices. The high ceiling acoustics. And the electric crescendo. The Christmas track that lingers well past the season ends.
“Hark how the bells. Sweet silver bells. All seem to say. Throw cares away.”
You think you’re just listening to another Christmas carol cover. Then you get to the 1:42 mark, and Chris Tomlin rocks your world with a new interpretation, inserting his own unforgettable words: Unspeakable joy. Tomlin found new life from an old carol. And in doing so, he seemed to stumble upon the real joy as if it appeared before his eyes. It’s a feeling I sense from the performer, and a feeling I experience as the listener.
“Joy, unspeakable joy. An overflowing well no tongue can tell. Joy, unspeakable joy. Rises in my soul, never lets me go.”
Sufjan Stevens’ extensive multi-disc Christmas album is headlined by “Oh Come, Oh Come Emmanuel”. It represents both a modern interpretation of a traditional Christmas carol as well as a personal reflection of Sufjan’s Christian faith. It’s not all ho-ho-ho’s, but it’s not all ho-hum either. It captures the quiet, reflective mood of the artist’s musicality and the quiet mystery and wonderment of the season.
“O come, Thou Day-Spring, come and cheer. Our spirits by Thine advent here. Disperse the gloomy clouds of night and death's dark shadows put to flight.”
One of the most famous Christmas songs of all time was an anti-famine fundraising effort for Ethiopia, written and spearheaded by Bob Geldof and Midge Ure. There have been subsequent remakes, but the original is still the one for me. Sting. Bono. Simon Le Bon. George Michael. Paul Young. Phil Collins. Boy George. Siobhan Fahey. The list goes on. This was the Christmas song with a social conscience and spirit.
“It's Christmas time, there's no need to be afraid. At Christmas time, we let in light and we banish shade.”
So many artists have covered this classic since Robert Wells and Mel Torme wrote the original. Sinatra. John Legend. Buble. Perry Como. But for me, Nat King Cole’s version has always been the best. It was always the warmest. It’s the version that conjures up the holiday spirit with images of hickory wood fireplaces, city streets with holiday lights and snow-covered hills. It’s a musical backdrop for Christmas that has stood the test of time.
“And so I'm offering this simple phrase to kids from one to ninety-two. Although it's been said many times, many ways, Merry Christmas to you.”
It’s impossible to make it through the holidays without hearing Wham!’s “Last Christmas” at least a half dozen times. It’s a nostalgic Christmas song that has somewhat miraculously extended well beyond its years. It’s lyrically sad and musically upbeat. I like Jimmy Eat World’s cover. They sing it a little differently. They play it with a little more dynamism. And they find a less expected holiday sound with Jimmy-style guitar and synth.
“Last Christmas I gave you my heart. But the very next day you gave it away.”
New wave took it to Christmas with jangly piano treble keys, bells and an unjoyous Christmas story. But the best part of “Christmas Wrapping” is the blaring sax and Tracy Wormworth’s killer bass line which captures the chaotic and frenzied pace of the holidays. It’s the story of a holiday gone wrong, but one that ends with redemption and a last-minute hunt for cranberry sauce. With that, The Waitresses have helped capture the holiday spirit yet again.
“A&P has provided me with the world’s smallest turkey. Already in the oven, nice and hot Oh damn! Guess what I forgot?”
There are Christmas songs that we abhor, and then there are Christmas songs that we adore. For me, “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing” is one of the latter. From my favorite Christmas album from beginning to end, Vine Guaraldi’s “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing” captures both the quiet reflection and the joyful celebration of the season in under two minutes. Few Christmas songs reveal both sides of the holiday equation so endearingly.
“Joyful, all ye nations, rise. Join the triumph of the skies. With th’angelic host proclaim Christ is born in Bethlehem!”
Double treble octaves and the unglamorous peek into New York City life. Two reasons why “Manhattan” is one of my favorite Cat Power songs. It came from an album that seemed to be deliberately minimalist in production. It’s a paired down sound for one of the most real songs ever written about New York—and it came from a non-New Yorker. The transience. The furtiveness. The New York we know well, but rarely sing about.
“The hotel above and the street below. People come and people go. All the friends that we used to know.”
The artist revered by other artists, Cat Stevens has created some of the most original melodies ever created. Nothing against 10,000 Maniacs’ “Peace Train” or Maxi Priest’s “Wild World”, but Stevens’ originals were always much more raw, powerful and emotional than the covers. There is simply nothing else like “Wild World”. Nothing comes close to its melody, its musicality or its intimacy, which detailed Stevens’ fluttering romance with Patti D’Arbanville.
“Oh, baby, baby, it's a wild world. It's hard to get by just upon a smile. Oh, baby, baby, it's a wild world. I'll always remember you like a child, girl.”
From a band that has taken me decades to finally appreciate comes a song that I didn’t discover until nearly a decade after it was released. A couple of high school friends of mine were studying abroad in Barcelona for a semester when they came across the song. For some reason, Queen’s “I Want to Break Free” was experiencing a resurgence in Spain among college students at that time. My friends brought this optimistic, inspirational song back to New York, and I’ve been hooked ever since.
“I want to break free. I want to break free from your lies. You're so self satisfied, I don't need you. I've got to break free.”
When Franz Ferdinand’s debut album came out, they reminded me so much of the swagger and the sensibilities of Gang of Four. But they also felt different than the other post-punk revivalists of the era. Franz Ferdinand always seemed to take themselves a little less seriously. They were the party boys who seemed content making fun music. “Take Me Out” ruled 2004 with its tempo-shifting and double entendres.
“If I wane, this could die. If I wait, this could die. I want you to take me out.”
In 1996, Jars of Clay came out of nowhere. They took their name from a Bible verse in 2 Corinthians and took over radio with “Flood”. The debut album was brilliant, but the very first song that the band wrote was “Fade to Grey” which didn’t appear on a full-length album until Much Afraid released one year later. It’s still my favorite JoC track. The drum machine fade. The synths. And those vocals felt like a page ripped right out of lead singer Dan Haseltine’s journal.
“Your trance of love is seeking to turn this world around.”
Gilberto and Getz are from two different worlds, but come together as one on this classic recording. In one instance, I can listen to “The Girl From Ipanema” and feel like I’m transported to a hot summer night in Rio de Janeiro. In another, I’m transported to a cold, wintry night in Manhattan. I have no idea who the girl from Ipanema is. Nor do I care. This bossa nova staple reminds me of fond old memories just as much as it gets me to look to better days ahead.
“The girl from Ipanema goes walking. And when she passes, each one she passes goes - ahh.”
The simplest of songs are often the best ones we have. “Brighter!” does its thing with just a simple melody, simple instrumentation and simple production. The clean guitar picking, McComb’s hush-hush falsetto and Americana roots remind me of late night star gazing. I love the ethereal quality to “Brighter!”. There’s a lightness and buoyancy to the music that seems to transcend time and space.
“All eyes move to thee. All eyes aren’t born free. All eyes want to see.”
“1969” starts out in a familiar, predictable space. There’s almost a bluesy, Doors-esque sound to the first minute and a half. Then music history forever changes after that. The experimental guitar effects carry the rest of the song through, defining the essence of garage rock, containing the early strands of punk, and displaying an eerie premonition of distorted vocals popularized by The Strokes.
From one of the greatest albums of all time, the songs from Purple Rain are still underrated for what they accomplished musically. You wouldn’t view Purple Rain necessarily as an experimental album, but it was innovative in its amalgamation of rock and R&B, and of synthesizers and organic instrumentation. “I Would Die 4 U” was the last of a string of singles, going beyond the standard pop song fanfare with evocative spiritual themes and perfectionist production polish.
“I'll never beat you. I'll never lie. And if you're evil I'll forgive you by and by.”
