I was putting together this year’s Christmas playlist with help from my neighbor Swamp Rabbit, who has strong opinions about holiday music.
“No more ‘Jingle Bells!'” he shouted. “There are two thousand versions out there and they all suck.”
He asked me if I was including any serious songs this year. he meant sentimental standards that were hits before your mother was born. Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas,” Judy Garland’s “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” and so on.
“I don’t like having my heartstrings tugged,” I said. “It gives me indigestion.”
“You don’t have a heart.” Swamp Rabbit said. “What about cheerful Christmas songs? I bet you don’t like them either.” He named Mariah Carey’s monster hit “All I Want for Christmas Is You,” which sounds like Phil Specter on crack cocaine.
My mangy friend can’t accept that I’m turned off by songs that hit you over the head in order to coax a certain emotional response. Songs that try to reduce you to tears or pump you up with false bravado.
“So what is on your playlist, Odd Man?”
I told him I still like Vince Guaraldi’s jazzy “Peanuts” theme and singers who summon up the Christmas spirit with humor and elan, like James Brown on “Santa Claus Go Straight to the Ghetto.”
“That song’s on your list every year.” he said. “Why don’t you give it a break?”
“It’s one of my standards, you fool. Like I said last year, if you don’t like my list, make your own.”
Odd Man Out 