If there’s any Christmas song out there that comes close to being universally liked it surely must be Darlene Love’s version of “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)” from A Christmas Gift to You from Phil Spector. There are a handful of “the thing you like is problematic” thinkpieces written every year about the album but I don’t sense there’s any mainstream backlash to it or the song. (The last track on the album, “Silent Night,” is unlistenable, but would be even without the knowledge that Spector is a murderer. The album’s influence is stronger than ever. Of the handful of newish Christmas songs that get regular mainstream airplay, just about every one of them blatantly rips off Spector’s arranging/producing style, down to the predictable bari sax solo.) When the performance is good I guess it’s easy to overlook some things. A few singers have covered “Christmas” since, but what’s the point? No way they do it better.
44 years or so later, Love would finally cut her own Christmas album, It’s Christmas, Of Course. There are a couple of misses sprinkled about, but Love is still in fine voice. Some of the power may be gone, but her phrasing and instincts are better than ever. One of the standout tracks is a cover of The Pretenders’ “2000 Miles.” To say her performance is an improvement over the indifferent sounding original is a huge understatement. A good performance makes the song better – who knew? Another track on the album, her version of “What Christmas Means to Me” came on while I was sitting alone on Christmas night, watching the clock approach midnight…
There’s a lot of writing about the giddy anticipation of Christmas. Likewise for the magic of Christmas Eve and the joy and excitement of Christmas morning. There is no need to search for meaning there, when one is caught up in and surrounded by every good thing the season offers. But what about Christmas night? What about the day after? What does that mean? There’s a feeling of uncertainty there. Doubt, maybe. Some disappointment, reconciling your expectations with reality. The feeling you could have done more. The mind wanders – wasn’t it just Thanksgiving? Where did the time go?
There are those out there for whom Christmas is just another day. They are unfazed by the buildup. If any gifts are to be bought or any preparations made it is done quickly and efficiently a few days before the holiday. Their cool detachment seems a giant “Bah! Humbug!” to us more nostalgic types. But after that moment, after the clock hits midnight, and it’s no longer Christmas and you’re sitting there by yourself and everything is still and the world outside the window seems so brittle and fragile that it all might shatter in the cold, aren’t you kind of jealous of them? Doesn’t a small part of you wish that you could unsentimentally take your tree and decorations down and get back to work like nothing happened? It’s not possible for me. I can’t fathom how it could be possible for me; I’m in too deep.
Every year the season seemingly creeps further back towards the beginning of fall; I can’t say I mind. And every year people complain ever louder about the early onset of Christmas music and decorations; that doesn’t bother me either. This year I basically worked on my own Christmas music year round and I’m happy I did. I’m already planning on what to do next year. But still, what did it all mean? I don’t know if we can ever find an answer so concrete as that. But we were part of something. Traditions: familial, going back years; cultural, going back centuries. We can hope for significance, we can hope we did some good, but may not know until years later if we were successful. We can hope we touched someone. We can hope that a moment, a gift, even the briefest of passing gestures, gets passed on to some future Christmas season. And with a laugh, smile, or touch of longing, it is recalled by a loved one. Remember when…