WASHINGTON, December 8, 2014 – Over the years, our past and present CDN columnists have represented an amazing array of experiences and viewpoints. Readers say it’s what keeps them coming back and engaging with CDN every day.
At this time of the year, one thing many of our columnists have in common is a fondness for the beloved, mostly traditional music of the year-end holiday season. A couple of years back, we polled them, asking which Christmas song they loved the most. Writers’ favorites range from serious expressions of faith, to family favorites, to the slightly odd and unusual.
Since then, we’ve made this list, originally compiled by Gayle Falkenthal, an annual feature, revising and updating comments and adding new or different videos as some of the old ones became unavailable or newer, better versions popped up.
Now it’s nearly Christmas, 2014, so we’d like to share this updated column with you again. We hope that at least some of these brief articles and video clips will bring back pleasant memories of holidays past and will also inspire you to share your favorites with CDN in the comments section below. Perhaps your suggestions will show up in our 2015 column. We’d love to hear from you.
In the meantime, enjoy. Have a Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays and the best of everything for you and yours in 2015!
Katherine K. Davis, Henry Onorati and Harry Simeone composed the words and music to “The Little Drummer Boy” in 1958. Although it eventually suffered from too much airplay and has become a joke today in some circles, it still has a place in my heart.
My mother’s pride and joy in the year of 1958 was the six-foot long RCA stereo my father bought from Sears and Roebuck. She joined a record club, and soon we had Ray Charles, Elvis, and the Bill Doggett Trio performing in our living room.
As the year came to a close we looked forward to hearing all the popular Christmas carols (in living stereo!) Sitting in front of our impressive, late ‘50s entertainment center in a family room illuminated only the light from the Christmas tree, we listened to Christmas music on vinyl LPs, including one by the Harry Simeone Chorale. All the songs we listened to were beautiful. But when that choral drone of “drum, drum, drum” started, we were transfixed.
To a ten-year old during the Christmas season, “The Little Drummer Boy” provided a magical trip across space and time, transporting back 2000 years ago to the little town of Bethlehem. Almost like Gregorian chant, the repeated thrum of this evocative tune allowed a young mind to transcend time and space to touch an ancient world, or at least what we all imagined it to have been. The music built a sweet, lyrical backdrop enabling us to imagine what it must have been like to behold the newborn baby Jesus in that humble stable long ago.
John Paul Cassil
Bring a Torch, Jeanette, Isabella is a beautiful Christmas song. Originally composed as a dance tune for nobility in the 14th century, the music was set to new lyrics, transforming it into a French Christmas carol in 1553, nearly five centuries ago. The song has been translated into English and there have been many popular instrumental versions over the centuries.
Bring a torch, Jeanette, Isabella
Bring a torch, come swiftly and run.
Christ is born, tell the folk of the village,
Jesus is sleeping in His cradle,
Ah, ah, beautiful is the Mother,
Ah, ah, beautiful is her Son.
This carol reminds us that the news of Christ’s birth was given first to the meek and lowly in society. Our best guess at the composer’s notion of Jeanette and Isabella tells us that they might have been milk-maidens who came to milk the cattle in the stable on the first Christmas morning where they encountered a most-unexpected event. They then ran to tell the village of Bethlehem the good news, bringing their torches along with them to light their way in those early morning hours.
Downhere’s album “How Many Kings” is one of the most beautifully composed Christmas albums I’ve heard, containing not only reimagined versions of older carols, (like the unique French interlude in “What Child is This?”) but new songs completely (like the album title song “How Many Kings.”) This version of “Bring a Torch, Jeanette, Isabella” is beautiful as it incorporates a melodious chorus into that famous old tune from the Middle Ages.
Bring a torch, Light a candle!
Bring a torch, For the Prince of Peace.
Bring a torch, Oh, come and believe.
Bring a torch, See this mystery!
Light of the World is here!
When I was growing up in South Korea, my parents were always working even during the holidays. While I watched Christmas movies on TV, my Christmas was pretty humble. I waited for my parents to get home, and then went to bed. So I never really learned to indulge in traditional holiday spirits. Instead, I learned to indulge myself with a sense of accomplishment and ambition.
But one morning, the song, “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” was playing on the radio. Something about the song filled my heart with the quietness, peace, and everything else that Christmas offers in many people’s hearts.
The song reminded me to stop running so hard and cherish a quiet moment with a cup of coffee in front of a fireplace to enjoy the Christmas spirit. The holiday doesn’t have to be fancy or big. Instead, I most enjoy a small, intimate Christmas that only I can savor with my cup of coffee as I watch the snow drifting down from the sky and falling to earth before my window.
Judy Garland, then 21, sings the song here in a clip from her 1944 blockbuster film musical, “Meet Me in St. Louis.” The song itself starts about 1:35 into the clip.
(Editor’s note: In searching for a new video for this song to replace one no longer available, we discovered the original verse of this song. Penned by lyricist Hugh Martin for this film, these words and sentiments were not very happy ones, perhaps more realistically reflecting the moment during which the song is sung. Judy Garland finally persuaded Martin to provide her with the more positive lyric we all know today. Here’s the discarded lyric:
Have yourself a merry little Christmas, it may be your last,
Next year we may all be living in the past
Have yourself a merry little Christmas, pop that champagne cork,
Next year we will all be living in New York.
No good times like the olden days, happy golden days of yore,
Faithful friends who were dear to us, will be near to us no more.
But at least we all will be together, if the Fates allow,
From now on we’ll have to muddle through somehow.
So have yourself a merry little Christmas now.
In defense of Martin’s original verse, we’d note that for all the hope and happiness wrapped up in our traditional year-end festivities, many Americans each year find that the holidays can trigger remorse and regret for lost opportunities, relationships and memories—the poignant side of the holiday season.)
When the great American poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow composed his famous poem “Christmas Bells,” America was months away from Lee’s surrender to Grant at Virginia’s Appomattox Courthouse on April 9th 1865.
Longfellow’s poem reflected not only the prior several years when the embattled United States was almost overwhelmed by war’s despair. It also embodied his own lingering despair over the death of his beloved wife Fanny two years earlier, and the Civil War wounding of his oldest son Charles, a Lieutenant in the Army of the Potomac.
Happily, Charles survived, and Longfellow’s poem remains, reflecting both the poet’s and our still young nation’s looking forward to the promise of brighter days to come.
The final version of Longfellow’s poem was published in the following year. It was not set to music, as the song “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day,” until 1872, when it was set to music by British organist John Baptiste Calkin.
This song speaks to everything that’s important to me: family, country, honor, and loyalty. My heart fills with joy and pride whenever and wherever I hear it.
(Video clip of a live performance of “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day” from the 2008 presentation of “Christmas by Candlelight” [CBC] at Shades Mountain Baptist Church, Birmingham, Alabama.)
Gayle Lynn Falkenthal
Since July 15, 1929, the Mormon Tabernacle Choir has performed a weekly radio broadcast called “Music and the Spoken Word.” It is the longest-running continuous network broadcast in the world.
The show started being televised in the early 1960s. Today it is broadcast worldwide through 1,500 radio, television, and cable stations.
One of my first jobs in broadcasting was producing this show for my local San Diego radio station. Since I was alone early on Sunday morning, I would turn up our powerful monitor speakers to full blast and let the beautiful music surround me. I was awestruck by the devotion and teamwork required to make the resulting musical magic happen.
At Christmastime in particular, the Choir conveys the exultation and joy of the traditional music celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ. You don’t have to be a Christian to feel it.
Ronald Reagan called the Mormon Tabernacle Choir “America’s Choir.” For me, the Choir represents the meaning of the Christmas season as it performs the glorious “Hallelujah Chorus” from George Friederich Handel’s immortal “Messiah.”
I love Christmas carols. Yes, Jewish people love carols too. Some of the most beautiful music ever composed has been written for Christmas. I sang Christmas music in college choirs and, earlier, in my high school choir as a girl growing up in Philadelphia. I can still sing them all today and know more of the lyrics than most of my Christian friends! One of my favorites to perform and to hear is “Carol of the Bells.” Here is a beautiful version by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.
(Editor’s note: The version first posted here in 2012 was removed last year from YouTube. We’ve replaced it with this elaborate, unusual Mormon Tabernacle Choir arrangement, complete with full orchestra and magnificent, five-octave bell choir. Based on the original, this version unexpectedly re-imagines the famously minor-key carol as a triumphant, mostly major-key chorale.)
One hot mid-July California afternoon back in the day, popular (now late) singer Mel Tormé stopped by the home of his friend Bob Wells. Noticing four sentences scribbled in a notebook, he asked, “What’s this?”
“It’s been so sweltering lately,” Wells explained. “I jotted down some things that would remind me of winters back East.”
“You know,” Tormé said, “this could be a song.” Then he added, “Maybe even a song about Christmas.”
As Tormé sat down at the piano, Wells started penning additional words. And just 40 minutes later, the two completed a song not merely about Christmas. They had composed a song that the world would come to know as “The Christmas Song.”
Rushing the song to Capitol recording artist Nat “King” Cole, Mel Tormé performed the song for him. Mr. Cole reserved a studio and recorded the song in time for release for the current 1946 Christmas. He would, seven years later, re-record it to include full orchestral accompaniment. To date, that second version has sold more than seven million copies.
In our family, we’ve always said that Christmas has officially begun when first we hear the opening pair of descending chords signaling the beginning of Nat King Cole’s mellow, never-to-be-equaled rendition of “The Christmas Song.”
(Audio only, with crackling holiday fire in the background.)
Growing up as I did in a musical family meant many nights gathered around the piano, creating Christmas memories that could be plopped right into a Judy Garland movie without skipping a beat.
The only Three Tenors of any importance in my young world back then were my dad and his brothers. Performances by my exclusive Three Tenors were rare, though. Uncle Bob was in the Air Force. Flying his family in from places like Guam for Christmas wasn’t generally an option.
As the years passed, life rolled on, grandparents passed away, cousins moved, and families were split asunder by divorce. Christmas still brought crazy, warm family gatherings. But every year, it seemed, there was someone missing. Soon, even my own parents divorced.
It was around this time that The Carpenters released their album Christmas Portrait, which included the song “Merry Christmas, Darling.”
The Carpenters’ song celebrates the joy of Christmas: lights on the tree, logs on the fire, and greeting cards on the mantle. But it also celebrates intangible love. That category includes the people we can’t pass the potatoes to or kiss under the mistletoe anymore. But they are still part of our lives, and they’re still part of our holidays.
This Christmas, families everywhere will be missing someone. At some point during the gift giving or the cookie decorating, each of us will stop for a moment, lost in memory. My dad passed away in 1993, silencing my Three Tenors forever. But tonight as I sit at the piano playing “Merry Christmas, Darling,” his beautiful voice will sing to me loud and strong. “I’ve just one wish on this Christmas Eve. I wish I were with you.”
When people ask me what my favorite color is, my answer is that I don’t have a favorite because there are too many to like. Christmas songs are pretty much the same for me. Religious or secular – I love them all. My kids and I love the chickens and dogs that cluck and bark “Jingle Bells,” and even that lame parody from when we were kids, “Jingle bells! Batman smells! Robin laid an egg!……”
My love of Christmas music developed while I was growing up in the Chicago suburb of Dolton, Illinois. As soon as the holiday season began, my mother would simmer water, cinnamon and nutmeg on the stove and put her favorite holiday records in the console stereo (remember them?) to play. Her favorite 33 was the one by the Robert Shaw Chorale. The album by the Harry Simeone Choir, best known even today for its definitive rendition of “The Little Drummer Boy,” was also one of her favorites.
Although it’s too hard for me to pick an absolute favorite, the carol that first comes to mind for me is “O, Holy Night.” It is the fruit of a nominal Christian, French poet Placide Cappeau of Roquemaure, France. He asked his Jewish friend Adolphe Charles Adams to put it to music. It was translated into English by Unitarian Minister John Sullivan Dwight who resided in the well-known Transcendentalist community of Brook Farm, Massachusetts. A devout Abolitionist, he was particularly fond of the third verse that deals forthrightly with slavery, and did what he could to popularize the song—and its message—throughout the country.
I find it intriguing that individuals not “of the establishment” gave birth to this beautiful Christmas carol. General society merely tolerated these men. Yet all three of them understood what the Christmas message is all about. That really speaks to me.
Who did Jesus hang out with? Certainly not the established religious leaders of the time. He preferred people who were honest about who they were and what they were all about. And I believe He still does.
Kristi Overton Johnson
One of my favorite things about Christmas is the music. I love music, all music. But there’s something magical about Christmas music.
Whether in the car, at home, or in a store, as soon as a Christmas song begins to play, Christmas cheer spreads from the top of my head to the soles of my feet. Without fail, my mouth starts singing and my toes start tapping! Although I’ve never lived any place truly cold, “Baby it’s Cold Outside” has always been one of my favorites. Guess you could call it wishful thinking on my part.
Many artist have performed this beautiful song. But in my opinion, few versions can compare to the infamous bathroom duet of Jovi (Zooey Deschanel) and Buddy (Will Ferrell) in the movie Elf. Just the thought of Buddy curled up on the bathroom counter singing his heart out can still bring a smile to any face.
The world needs more Buddys. His innocent heart, his love for people and his unwillingness to let the world change him is a great inspiration for us all as we head into this Christmas season.
Buddy’s words of wisdom: “The best way to spread Christmas cheer is to sing loud for all to hear!”
No holiday is more or better represented in song than Christmas. During the holiday season, which begins disturbingly as early as September now in many stores and on many radio stations, Christmas music sung in every form and format can be found somewhere either in public, on TV and cable, or on your trusty radio dial twenty-four hours a day in many locales.
My favorites? It would be easy to go with Bruce Springsteen gritting out “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” (hey, I’m a northeast guy born of the early ‘70s, whaddya want?!); a strong voice like Johnny Mathis or Sarah Brightman hitting all the low to high notes in “O Holy Night” (I feel this is a requisite for being a bona fide Christmas song performer); or with quirky favorites from The Waitresses (the catchy and boppy pace of “Christmas Wrapping”) or Lou Monte (how does “Dominick the Donkey” not bring a smile to anyone’s face?)
But, sticking with stereotypes, and since I was, after all, “The Beer Guy” in my old column After Hours at The Brew Lounge, I put my hand up for Bob and Doug McKenzie’s “The Twelve Days of Christmas.”
What? You don’t understand? I mean, c’mon, a beer. In a tree. What could be more festive? They are the Strange Brew guys, too, you know… right? Maybe you don’t understand. Perhaps you’re a hoser. Now go get your toque and a two-four and run along.
Oh, and have a Merry Christmas along the way. To all, including those not celebrating Christmas, I raise my glass and wish you a season of good health, good eats and drinks, and time well spent with family and friends. If we can put aside all of our socio-political differences, I believe that on this, we can all agree.
Oh, yeah. The animated version of this one is pretty funny.
If you grew up in Chicago during the 1960s, “Hardrock, Coco and Joe,” was the heralds’ first call that Christmas was on the way. That stop-motion animated cartoon was based on a song originally penned by Stuart Hamblen. We would all laugh when the song arrived at the very baritone line, “and I’m Joe…”
The fact that I married a Joe might also have something to do with my memory of that.
The story of the Three Little Dwargs was an annual classic shown on Chicago’s WGN Television children’s program, “The Garfield Goose Show with Captain Kangaroo.” This short tune, along with another, “Suzy Snowflake,” brought smiles and joy to children already eager and anxious to get outside and play in the deep Chicago snow.
As I searched for, found, and re-played videos of those already long-ago Christmas memories, my rediscoveries even brought a smile to my now-teenaged, video game-playing son, who found the same delight in the black and white stop-animation work, the Jurassic-era special effects we Boomers grew up with in a time already so long ago.
Donner and Blitzen, away, away
I grew up on 1930s and 1940s classics performed live in the family kitchen or on the turntable of our unstable 45-RPM record player. Those live performances, BTW, were by my mom, a former “territory band” singer in the 1940s.
No Christmas song was more ubiquitous at that time than Bing Crosby’s rendition (probably the second recorded one) of Irving Berlin’s immortal “White Christmas.” The song was first encountered on film in the 1942 film “Holiday Inn.”
“White Christmas” is one of my favorites, and I’m not alone. The Guinness Book of World Records has declared it the best-selling single of all time with sales estimated to be north of 50 million copies throughout the world. Yeah, some Elton John fans pooh-pooh this number, claiming Elton’s “Candle in the Wind” has sold more. But in sheer numbers, including those logged before formal pop recording records were kept, Der Bingle’s Christmas single still rules.
Sorry rock fans, go figure. Bing’s jolly 1949 Christmas album, which includes this song, has never been out of print, an astounding achievement in the annuals of popular music.
Here’s a video of Crosby performing the song in the 1954 film “White Christmas,” which was a considerably updated remake of “Holiday Inn,” and featured Danny Kaye as Bing’s sidekick. (Fred Astaire had ably filled that slot in the earlier film.)
While the famous song is reprised at the end of the film, we first encounter it at the very beginning of the movie in a necessary prequel to the main story. Here, Crosby is stiffly navigating a cheap, makeshift GI stage on the edge of nameless European battlefield some time during World War II. Stage left, a soldier cranks out a pathetic, patched-together accompaniment for Bing on some kind of hurdy-gurdy contraption.
You can hear the muffled sound of exploding shells in the distance as Bing’s GI audience falls somber and silent, chilled to the bone by the winter winds, clearly dreaming of those crackling home fires and how much they longed win the war and return at last to friends and family for the holidays.
The video is a little blurry, but you’ll quickly get the picture and the poignancy of the moment. Perhaps today’s young U.S. vets who have returned or are returning from the seemingly endless conflict in the Middle East will likely relate to this moment, even if they’ve never seen the movie or have somehow never heard the song.
READERS: Tell us about your favorite holiday song in the Comments section and provide us a link. It doesn’t have to be just Christmas. We’ll take a look at your suggestions and consider them for next year’s edition of this column.
(This story is reprised annually with revisions to help celebrate the season.)