Must-hear Holiday-Themed, Non-Holiday Songs

People seem particularly drawn to mournful, weepy, nostalgic songs to get them through the holidays. Maybe it’s the zeitgeist of these violent times, maybe it’s just being reflective as another year comes to a close, or perhaps just gluttony for punishment, but who hasn’t lost a friend or loved-one along the way, and aren’t the holidays the mandatory time for remembering the joy and pain that accompanies these complicated memories? Whatever your seasonal symptom, the songs collected here follow this motif. And to the best of my knowledge, not one of these tunes was written as a holiday song, specifically, although some have wriggled their ways into the canon, and all have found their ways onto my Yuletide playlist. So take a listen with me, gentle readers, grab a glass of eggnog, and let the holidays begin…

“Photographs and Memories,” by Jim Croce: I think had Croce lived, he might be on his third or fourth holiday album by now. In many ways, his mellow, acoustic-driven song stylings are perfect for bummed-out tributes to the Yuletide. “Photographs and Memories” is taken from Croce’s 1972 album, You Don’t Mess Around With Jim, and while never released as a single (it was the B-side to the title track for the album, which was released as a single and reached #8 on the Hot 100), it remains a perennial holiday favorite. Croce had a penchant for writing tunes that, while not Christmas songs, per se, embraced the season, like the melancholy, “It Doesn’t Have To Be That Way,” which sets the tone in the first line: “Snowy nights and Christmas lights, icy windowpanes, make me wish that we could be together again.” Sigh…

“Barandgrill,” by Joni Mitchell: Mitchell’s “River,” from her legendary 1971 album, Blue, would have been the obvious choice for this list, but it’s become so commonly covered by artists for their holiday collections in the last few decades (e.g., James Taylor, Sarah McLachlan, Shawn Colvin, and Linda Rondstadt, to name but a few), that the song is now effectively co-opted for the season. But “Barandgrill,” taken from Mitchell’s overlooked 1972 masterpiece, For The Roses, provides a stream-of-consciousness, lyrical snapshot of time spent in a local truck stop café around the holidays, where waitresses are talking about zombies and exotic cocktails and “…the guy at the gas pump, he's got a lot of soul; he sings Merry Christmas for you just like Nat King Cole.”

“Love Is Stronger Than Pride,” by Sade: Taken from her super chill, lighter than air 1988 album, Stronger Than Pride, this icy breakup song was culled as a single in the spring of that year, but (sadly) failed to gain much radio play, losing ground to disposable radio crap like “Never Gonna Give You Up,” “Could’ve Been,” and “Get Outa My Dreams, Get Into My Car.” Tragic, that, as the lugubrious, frost-bitten lyrics fashion the perfect atmosphere for heartbreak: “Sitting here waiting for you would be like waiting for winter, and it's gonna be cold; there may even be snow…”

“The Hounds of Winter,” by Sting: Taken from his 1996 album, Mercury Falling, this wintery, tormented song about lost love is perfect for the holiday season. Sting thinks so, too; he re-recorded the track as a Renaissance period madrigal for his own holiday collection, If On A Winter’s Night, 13 years later. The album sounds like it was recorded in a candle-lit, haunted castle by the ocean and, at times, seems more fitting for a Celtic Samhain celebration than for Christmas. 

“Brick,” by Ben Folds Five: Catchy as it is, this is the only pop hit in my recollection that recounts the impact of abortion for two young people: in this case, Folds and his high school girlfriend (and the procedure in question happens to take place on the day after Christmas, the day for returning unwanted gifts…). Not exactly something you’d expect to hear from the Biebs or Katy these days, but in 1997 it was a moderate hit for the band, reaching the top 20 on a number of charts. I saw Ben Folds in concert (remarkably good) in the early 2000s, and if my memory serves me correctly, he made a point to disavow any political leanings when he introduced the tune. Huh.

“Late-Great Johnny Ace,” by Paul Simon: Where were you when John Lennon died? I was 9 years old and at home on that frigid December evening in 1980. I remember hearing about the assassination on television that night after dinner and the radio being flooded with Lennon songs after that for the next several months. I really wasn’t such a John Lennon fan, but I felt bad all the same. And I still do. “…On a cold December evening I was walking through the Christmas tide, when a stranger came up and asked me if I'd heard John Lennon had died. And the two of us went to this bar and we stayed to close the place - and every song we played was for The Late Great Johnny Ace…”

“Same Old Lang Syne,” by Dan Fogelberg: “Met my old lover in the grocery store. The snow was falling Christmas Eve…” So begins one of the most bummed-out, nostalgic odes to ghosts of lovers past ever. A bold move for Fogelberg, to use the frozen foods section of a grocery store as the setting for a holiday-themed love song, but that’s how it actually went down on that Christmas Eve night in the convenience store at the top of Abington Hill in Peoria, Illinois in the mid-1970’s. The actual “old lover” came out of the shadows decades later, after Fogelberg’s death and after the end of her own, ill-fated marriage to the architect, a man of whom she’d like to have said she loved, but she didn’t like to lie. 

“Levon,” by Elton John: “He was born a pauper to a pawn on Christmas Day, when the New York Times said, ‘God is dead,’ and the wars begun…” A peripheral reference to Christmas, to be sure, but Levon’s son turns out to be named “Jesus,” after all, (apparently Levon really liked the name). And sadly, as it so often goes, the boy wants to leave home, leaving Levon far behind…to slowly die, which, again, pretty much sums up the holiday season; am I right? *I kid, I kid; I’m a kidder...

“My Favorite Things,” from The Sound Of Music: In the film adaption of the play, the song is sung to the Von Trapp children to calm their fears during a scary thunderstorm. “Favorite Things” suggests the best way to find peace in difficult times is simply to think about your favorites. In this case, things like, “warm woolen mittens, brown paper packages tied up with string, sleigh bells…silver white winters…snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes.” While never mentioning the holidays outright, the imagery is a nice fit for the season, which is, no doubt, why the song started finding its way onto holiday albums as early as 1964, a year before the film was even released. While the original version is upbeat, the melancholy lyrics and the wistful melody were highlighted in even the earliest cover versions, accentuating the inherent sadness in what has become a perennial holiday classic. 

“What A Wonderful World,” by Louis Armstrong: Released in October of 1967, in the midst of the Vietnam conflict and an ever-tumultuous North American political landscape, “Wonderful World,” like “Favorite Things,” spoke of optimism and hope in difficult times, definitely a theme for the season. Not initially a hit upon release, this unforgettable track was impossible to ignore, finally making it’s way onto a pivotal scene in the 1988 film, Good Morning, Vietnam, where it struck a chord with listeners and reached #32 on the pop charts that year, over 20 years after its initial release.

“Don’t Miss You At All,” Norah Jones: Norah Jones took the world by storm with her self-titled debut album, which sold a bajillion copies in 2002, swept the Grammys, and catapulted the musician kicking and screaming into superstardom. This heartrending song drips with irony, with Jones singing, “As I sit and watch the snow falling down…I don’t miss you at all.” This song closes her second album, Feels Like Home, and provides a perfect postscript to this endearing collection of songs. It also works perfectly on my “Melancholy Holly” iPod playlist and is my go-to song on the years when I can’t make it back to the farm for Christmas. 

"Christmas Portrait," by Carpenters

First off, a few pieces of housekeeping: Carpenters released their first Christmas album in 1978, it was titled, Christmas Portrait and is the album I’m discussing in this entry. Being big fans of the holiday genre and putting together songs for their 1977 and 1978 Christmas television specials, the siblings recorded far too many holiday songs to fit onto one album, so the additional tracks were shelved, later to surface in the posthumous 1984 Carpenters album, An Old Fashioned Christmas. The second holiday album should have been released as an eight song EP, as it contained only seven songs with Karen’s miraculous lead (“Home For The Holidays,” “Little Alter Boy,” “Do You Hear What I Hear?” "He Came Here For Me,” “What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve?,” “I Heard The Bells On Christmas Day,” and the 1974 winter single, released almost simultaneously with their #1 hit “Please Mr. Postman,” “Santa Clause Is Coming To Town”). Other than the Karen leads (and the softhearted title track, sung by Richard), An Old Fashioned Christmas is largely forgettable and not recommended. Also in 1984, A&M Records released a “special edition” CD version of Christmas Portrait, which mishandles the entire enterprise altogether, including far too many orchestrations from An Old Fashioned Christmas and completely botching the sequencing of the original Christmas Portrait songs. I highly recommend you avoid the “special edition,” CD/iTunes album and opt, instead, for the 1996 Christmas Collection, which includes both holiday albums, including the original (albeit remixed) Christmas Portrait. You’ve been warned. Now on with the review:

Richard and Karen Carpenter were born to make a Christmas album (and had been interested in doing so since they exploded onto the music scene in 1970), because the Christmas album genre plays so succinctly to their musical strengths: strong vocals, inventive, melodic arrangements, and old-fashioned loveliness. Based loosely on Spike Jones’ 1956 holiday album, It’s A Spike Jones Christmas, to which the siblings grew up listening (and is now available for download on iTunes, as Let’s Sing A Song Of Christmas and is well-worth adding to your holiday collection – note: longtime fans of Christmas Portrait will be surprised at just how much the siblings actually lifted from the Jones’ album), Christmas Portrait includes many of the tunes featured on that album as well as a few sacred songs of the season (i.e., “Silent Night,” “Ave Maria,” and Richard’s lead on the sublime album opener, “Oh Come, Oh Come, Emmanuel,” which is followed by a remarkable instrumental overture, building anticipation to Karen’s stunning introductory lead in “The Christmas Waltz”) and a re-recorded version of their 1970 single and Carpenter-penned holiday standard, “Merry Christmas Darling.” Note: while the 1978 recording is far superior, the lovely original version can be found on the boxed set, From The Top, and the repackaged boxed set, The Essential Collection).

Most of the songs from Christmas Portrait were originally introduced to the public via the sibling’s horrendous (and top-rated) 1977 televised Christmas special, The Carpenters At Christmas, which did nothing to endear the duo to rock critics (and that didn’t matter, anyway, as the duo’s non-holiday music career spiraled further and further into Captain And Tennille-chasing, Air Supply-inspiring, adult-contemporary irrelevance/Hell). Replete with cornball skits and tacky, over-the-top dance numbers, the special regularly makes an appearance on YouTube around the holidays and is recommended for completests and Carpenter-philes only (among the ranks of which, of course, I count myself). The music therein, however, is marvelous. The remainder of the songs that made up the eventual Christmas album (strangely, released almost a year later, in October of 1978) was featured on the duo’s 1978 Christmas Special, the aptly titled, Christmas Portrait, which was just as horrific as the first (the television special, that is, where Karen opens with the privileged, oblivious line, "Merry Christmas, EVERYONE!"). But as stated earlier, the music was sublime, including two of my favorite Karen Carpenter vocals, specifically, “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas,” and “Ave Maria,” which, with it’s crazy, high register-to-low register, is almost impossible to sing, yet, Karen Carpenter makes it sound effortless (she reportedly nailed the vocal in one take). Simply exquisite.

But mostly, Richard’s and Karen’s classic Christmas album takes me back to the farm. It takes me back to decorating the Christmas tree on Thanksgiving day with Sis, Jeff, Heather, and Harlan; it takes me back to watching the glow of the tree lights at night and dreaming of what I might find underneath on December 25th (that seemed to take FOREVER to arrive). Christmas Portrait takes me back to Christmas Eve services at church, it takes me back to staying up all night on the 24th with Jeff and Harlan (we were too excited to sleep!), and to rising before dawn, watching with my brothers the torturous, taunting clock creep forward until everyone else eventually arose in the morning. Christmas Portrait takes me back to my father’s handsome, red velvet smoking jacket, to my beautiful mother, who meticulously orchestrated the scrumptious holiday meals, it takes me back to visits from older siblings (from far away and from close by). Christmas Portrait takes me back to waiting my turn to open a present, and to gorging myself on turkey and stuffing, and to eventually passing out from exhaustion by 8pm Christmas night. Christmas Portrait annually reignites those memories and keeps them alive for me. I presume it always will. 

"A Christmas Album," by Barbra Streisand

Barbra Streisand is a polarizing figure, artistically and politically. Everybody seems to have something to say about the renowned singer: Quincy Jones called her a “national treasure” in 1994, George W. Bush begrudgingly honored the living legend in 2008 with a Kennedy Center Honor, in what may have been his most awkward Presidential moment ever. Some even worship her: Richard Simmons, in kind, made a quarter life-sized doll replica of her in the 1990’s, and in 2010, the genre-blending “Duck Sauce,” further immortalized the sixty-something songstress in their techno hit, “Barbra Streisand.” But whatever the inspiration, Streisand stands as the only singer in the history of singers to score a number 1 album in five consecutive decades, including this one. Not too shabby. And in the first decade of that impressive feat, Streisand made the quintessential Christmas album, setting the template for holiday records for decades to come and selling millions of copies along the way.

Up to that point, in 1967, holiday records were fairly rote affairs: a collection of standards, respectfully treated, with a silly photo of the artist covered in fake snow, holding a gift or a holiday ornament, and/or wearing a Santa hat. With A Christmas Album, Streisand created a new holiday album prototype: building a foundation with a few secular songs (“Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas,” “The Christmas Song,” and “White Christmas”), adding a few sacred hymns (“Sleep In Heavenly Peace,” “Ave Maria,” and “The Lord’s Prayer”), and throwing-in a few left turns along the way (like the then-new song about her newborn son, “The Best Gift,” the meloncholified iteration of “My Favorite Things,” from the most cheerful movie about Nazi occupation ever made, “The Sound of Music,” or the silly, revved-up rendition of “Jingle Bells?” that opens the record and, no doubt, inspired the clownishly sublime version of the same song, decades later by Canadian rockers, The Barenaked Ladies).

A Christmas Album, in fact, was the only holiday album by a female artist, up to that point, to be the best-seller of the year, and it revolutionized the genre, even today, influencing artists like Shawn Colvin and Shelby Lynn, who took Streisand’s lead in invigorating the oft-lifeless, holiday album genre with fresh arrangements and unusual song selections. Even Susan Boyle, the “Oops, I’m selling a billion albums,” insta-TV celebrity, added a few surprising, innovative song selections to her 2010 holiday outing, which included covers of Crowded House’s exquisite, #2 hit from 1987, “Don’t Dream It’s Over,” and Lou Reed’s equal parts depressing and beautiful, “Perfect Day,” from his 1972 album, Transformer.

Interestingly, Streisand indicates that she is hesitant to perform live these days, because of all the ballyhoo about her “perfect voice.” She feels too much pressure to live up to the hype. This album, recorded while the singer was enduring a seasonal cold, is a big part of the reason for said hype. A Christmas Album is, in a word, stunning, and a must-have for every holiday collection. On a personal note, Streisand’s first Christmas album provided the soundtrack for some of my best holiday memories, growing up: time with family and friends, decorating the Christmas tree, wrapping gifts, the tantalizing holiday smells from the kitchen, and of course, Christmas songs. Streisand’s Christmas album is a perennial favorite at my house during the holidays. Its old-fashioned loveliness is like a cherished friend on cold, December days, especially in years when I can’t make it back to the farm for Christmas.

"A Song for You," by The Carpenters

Being a Carpenters fan in high school in 1985 was a lonely road. On the positive side, it felt cool, somehow...punk even, to be into this virtually unknown, very un-cool brother / sister act from over a decade before: Karen and Richard Carpenter. Nobody, and I mean nobody else in my school (maybe a few teachers...) knew about Carpenters. Conversely, it was impossible to really be a fan, because there was nobody who understood how very good they consistently were. Consistently good, at least, until 1974, when they stopped eating, lost their musical focus, and started chasing after pop culture trends du jour. In the late 1970’s, this meant silly TV specials with "guest stars," like Suzanne Somers, Captain & Tennille chasing, and even Star Wars “outer space” experiments – ridiculous. Gone were the brother and sister duo that made stunningly beautiful music at a time when the country most needed it (e.g., Vietnam, Kent State shooting, Altamont, etc.). Besides the Christmas album in 1978, Carpenters last grasp at relevance came with their 1975 album, Horizon. But critics never held Carpenters in high esteem, even when they were very good. In fact, in the seventies it was practically a requirement for rock journalists to publicly berate their music.

Time changes perspective, however, and Carpenters have received significant critical reassessment over the past decade. And the reason, put simply, is the music. In a 2008 Rolling Stone magazine list of “Greatest 100 Singers of All Time,” Elton John called Karen Carpenter "one of the greatest voices of our lifetime," and Madonna has said she is "completely influenced by her harmonic sensibility," whatever that means. The Rolling Stone entry continued, “Impossibly lush and almost shockingly intimate, Carpenter's performances were a new kind of torch singing, built on understatement and tiny details of inflection that made even the sappiest songs sound like she was staring directly into your eyes.” Carpenters’ influence extends to many, including Sonic Youth, The Cranberries, Belle & Sebastian, Sheryl Crow, French electronica maestros, AIR, and, yes, even Daft Punk, to name a few.

And between 1969 and 1973, the Carpenters released an album a year with virtually no missteps. Nestled in the middle of this creative peak was A Song For You in 1972. That album alone contained six of the duo’s 25 hit singles (e.g., “Top Of The World,” “Hurting Each Other,” It’s Going To Take Some Time,” etc.), including the Oscar-nominated, "Bless The Beasts And The Children," but the singles were only half the fun. A Song For You also holds some of the best musical moments the duo ever created. Specifically, the album kicks off on a high point with the oft-covered Leon Russell title track. Originally intended as a concept album of sorts, the Russell song is reprised to bookend the album, thats lyric, in hindsight, is simply heartbreaking. Another standout track, “Road Ode,” is a stark mediation on celebrity and life on the road (written on tour a year earlier by Carpenters band members after a concert at Southern Illinois University). The song hinted at the siblings’ disappointing personal lives and foreshadowed the tragedy ahead. The solitary throwaway track was the one lead vocal by Richard, “Piano Picker,” a cheerful ditty about being nerdy and learning to play the piano; it’s not terrible, just unnecessary.

But the crowning moment of this record for me is the single, “I Won’t Last A Day Without You.” In just under four minutes, it delivers the quintessential elements of a classic Carpenters record. Opening on a somber note, with a solitary piano and Karen’s milk chocolate voice, at once wistful and joyful, the song ends with the group’s trademark multi-layered vocal harmonies. So great the song, in fact, that it rose all the way to number 11 on the pop charts a full two years after the album’s release and after three subsequent single releases from the next album the following year (Now and Then). The album, and Carpenters, seemed unstoppable that year, and the American public just kept returning to this essential album for more. Some of us still do.