I’ve spent the past few days listening to Christmas music while crafting my Christmas cards. Call me strange, but I love Christmas music. I grew up listening to “Happy Xmas (War is Over)” by John Lennon, “Wonderful Christmastime” by Paul McCartney, “I Saw Father Christmas” by Greg Lake (don’t ask me why, but I love that song), and many, many others I can’t remember off the top of my head. I love some of the classics too, like “O Holy Night”, “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas”, and “Hark The Herald Angels Sing”. I like most anything I hear, especially anything by Andy Williams or Mitch Miller, because they remind me of Christmas mornings at my grandmother’s house, listening to her old Christmas records while opening presents. I miss that memory; my grandmother passed away a little over three years ago, and Christmas morning at her house stopped the year she died.
Of course, I can’t stand some Christmas songs; “Up on the Rooftop” is my all time least favorite song. However, “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” also nearly tops that list, especially the Rod Stewart and Dolly Parton version. Yikes! I like listening to a song where the female singer asks if the male singer has spiked her drink and both of them singing about how their reputations will be saved if she caught pneumonia and died. Lovely.
All in all, since I like Christmas, and I like music, I love Christmas music. From “The 12 Pains of Christmas” and “Christmas Wrapping” by the Waitresses to “The Christmas Song”, I love it all. Except for the bad stuff. Kenny Rogers should be restricted from ever singing any Christmas song ever again.