"It remains not only acceptable, but in fact popular, to dump on Christmas music. It is the boring, predictable music-nerd equivalent of foodies who go out of their way every November to point out that “turkey sucks, actually” (which is, for the record, a lie). Holiday music is, by definition, the only genre that’s cordoned off into a little sliver of the calendar, and, even then, people argue that the sliver isn’t sliver-y enough." - Rebecca Alter, "Christmas Music is the Best Genre of Music," Vulture, 2020.
How I feel about holiday music depends on the day, the song, and the interpretation. Sometimes I'll hear a truly wretched Christmas song and wish some Scrooge had blown up the master tape. Other times, a good song can lift my mood and make me appreciate the season.
Or, like many people, Christmas music will invoke childhood nostalgia. In my case, that means the handful of records my family pulled out when we decorated the Christmas tree. One of my favourites was Christmas Pleasures, a late 1970s album compiled from the vaults of Columbia Records, which contains a mix of seasonal classics and holiday schmaltz.
Does it still provide pleasure to the ears? Will I still like the tracks I enjoyed as a kid, and snooze through the ones that made me lift the needle? Let's find out, starting with side one. Luckily, YouTube was able to provide all of the tracks or reasonably close approximations.
Johnny Mathis - Sleigh Ride
One of the all-time holiday classics, even if Christmas is never mentioned in the lyrics. The opening notes scream a lovely, sunny winter day. This rendition originally appeared on Mathis's 1958 album Merry Christmas. Two other people involved in this recording will reappear on Christmas Pleasures: arranger Percy Faith and producer Mitch Miller.
YouTube also had this live rendition from a 1967 appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show.
It Came Upon a Midnight Clear - Julie Andrews
Time to bring the energy down after the jauntiness of "Sleigh Ride." Pretty, but a track I can take or leave.
Percy Faith - Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas
Born in Toronto, Percy Faith was a pioneer of easy listening music. This rendition of "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas," probably from the 1950s or 1960s, would have fit nicely on a beautiful music station or as background music in a department store or shopping centre. Faith's biggest hit for Columbia was 1960's "Theme From a Summer Place."
Ray Conniff Singers - Silver Bells
Like Percy Faith, Ray Conniff was a staple of the easy listening/beautiful music genre, as evidenced by this 1959 track. Get out the candles and a bottle of wine.
Charlie Rich - God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen
I'm guessing this track was recorded during Charlie Rich's commercial peak in the mid-1970s, in the wake of hits like "Behind Closed Doors" and "The Most Beautiful Girl." Mixed feelings on this one, knowing that Rich, who dabbled in many genres throughout his career, was capable of much better.
Mahalia Jackson - Go Tell It On the Mountain
An early 1960s recording of the 19th century African-American spiritual. Powerful stuff.
Andre Kostelanetz and his Orchestra - We Wish You a Merry Christmas
Back into the easy listening realm with Andre Kostelanetz, whose career mixed recordings of classical music and elevator music, as well as commissioning pieces from modern American composers for the ensembles he conducted.
"We Wish You a Merry Christmas" has always ranked low on my list of holiday tunes. The first verse is fine as a simple expression of season's greetings, and if a version stops there to head into another song (such as Al Martino's pairing with "Silver Bells") it doesn't bug me.
But then the carolers get greedy, demanding figgy pudding and threatening to stick around until they get some. By verse three, it's tempting to slam the door on these obnoxious dessert freeloaders.
The Philadelphia Orchestra, conducted by Eugene Ormondy - Hallelujah Chorus
HALLELUJAH!
HALLELUJAH!
HALLELUJAH! HALLELUJAH!
(Couldn't resist)
Ending side one with this track as a powerful wrap-up might not have a bad idea. Ormondy and the Phildelphia Orchestra recorded for Columbia for a quarter century, from the mid-1940s to late 1960s.
Vikki Carr - What Child Is This?
It's possible I did stop the record after "Hallelujah Chorus," as I barely remember listening to this track. Carr's rendition of the carol whose tune is based on "Greensleeves" didn't do anything for me then, and it doesn't do anything for me now.
It's...there.
It might be the 3:35 a.m. spacefiller on a 24-hour Christmas station. It's not awful, it's not wonderful, it's...there.
From November 2011 through July 2012 I wrote the "Past Pieces of Toronto" column for OpenFile , which explored elements of the city which no longer exist. I've republished all but two of those pieces on this website. Here's the first of the final pair, both of which provided good lessons for future writing. Prepare yourself for a lengthy preamble.
While dodging back alley drunks in downtown Kitchener a month ago, I noticed that the back door to a Shoppers Drug Mart bore the mark of its previous identity as part of the Big V pharmacy chain. Years of hearing their slogan "an amazing part of your life" have burned it into my brain, along with images of their comical crusading knight mascot, 25 cent cans of Coca-Cola and the free lunch cooler bags sometimes offered up with the latter. Big V was started in the mid-1960s by a group of Windsor pharmacists who joined together to pool their purchasing and marketing. Most locations were pharmacist-operated, with names reflecting the owners (DeRe, Pond's , Cornett), the neighbourhood (Seminole in Windsor) or town. The chain grew to 135 stores by the time it was purchased by Shoppers in 1995. Amherstburg's store was originally Haslehurst's Big V, then switched to the more generic "Amherstburg" by the time I started shopping there with my parents. Loc
From November 2011 through July 2012 I wrote the "Past Pieces of Toronto" column for OpenFile, which explored elements of the city which no longer exist. The following was originally posted on December 2, 2011. The Starbucks at 675 Yonge Street isn’t your typical branch of the corporate coffee giant. The walls are lined with sturdy old wooden bookshelves while the floor is a checkerboard of black and white. Why this location is not like the others is hinted at on the façade. Look up to the second floor and you’ll notice a legendary name in Toronto bookselling: Albert Britnell. The quality of the literature on the shelves inside doesn’t always match the standards the Britnell family maintained for over a century of book retailing, but it’s a nod to the building’s past that comes in handy while waiting for a friend or first date. English native Albert Britnell entered the book trade by working in his brother John’s bookstore in London. Both brothers moved to C
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