I wish I could tell you that I loved every single thing about Christmas. But I don’t. I love almost everything about Christmas. I love the lights and the unhealthy food and watching my little guy sing the wrong words to Rudolph at the top of his lungs. But this year I’ve encountered a growing problem which threatens my yuletide contentment.
Allow me to phrase it this way: I DON’T WANT TO HEAR YOUR SNAZZY NEW JAZZED-UP VERSION OF A CLASSIC CHRISTMAS SONG!
Congratulations, you played it in three-quarter time, or you changed it from minor to major, or you doo-wopped it or you syncopated it or you put a funky beat and wrote a new unexpected verse—I don’t wanna hear it! You didn’t improve it, you ruined it, and now I have to change the station.
The crux of the coziness of Christmas is the comfort of memories, of family and home and traditions that have been in place since I was negative forty years old. I don’t wanna hear your peppy new take on the traditional tunes which have become pillars of my Christmas experience. I, and all my friends (and enemies, for that matter), see it for what it is: a product. And a bad one.
So get it out of my speakers! I wanna hear Bing, Burl, and ole Blue Eyes, or at least a symphony or a jazz pianist for crying out loud!
That’s not to say that I don’t want to hear new voices sing these songs. I’d love it! If they’d just sing the damn song! Alas, it seems no one is content to do that any more.
I understand, we live in this fast-moving age of constant improvement, of new products, better products, improved products, change, change, change—don’t tell me you don’t have the iPhone 8X yet! What? How is that possible?? (That doesn’t exist yet, but the point is, you weren’t entirely sure, were you?)
I think I’m too young to be the crotchety old man who hates the new generation and their dirty, scandalous technology and open-toed shoes, but some things just don’t need to be improved upon. I’ll lend you a few examples to bolster my argument:
Good ol’ dihydrogen monoxide has been treating us right for literally hundreds of years (it’s science, people.) It hydrates and cleans, has the perfect surface tension, just the right boiling and freezing points. Leave it alone.
2. The Federal Government
3. Conan O’Brien
Doesn’t matter where you put him. That ginger gets me. He does it right. Leave him alone.
4. Cookie Monster
I’m going topical here. You show me an adult human who claims that they are overweight because of what they learned in 20-second increments from their fuzzy blue friend, and I’ll show you an adult human who has just been slapped in the face, by me. It’s a children’s show for crying out loud! The make-believe ambiguous blob-like creature wants to eat cookies, and dagnabbit, it’s funny. Leave him alone.
Eggnog is awesome! Why am I even arguing this? I’m sure you already agree.
This is a potentially very long list so I’ll cut it here and assume you’re tracking with me. I love Christmas songs at Christmas. There is something sacred about the various elements that have helped create the many memories I’ve share with my family over the years. So do me a favor: leave the fat in my eggnog, and quit re-writing my favorite carols. No one is impressed, and we’re not gonna download the single.
For those who aren’t quite as jaded as myself, what are some good recent versions of Christmas songs? Please leave them in the comments! (If you answer Rascal Flatts you’re disqualified.)