Putumayo Presents the Exception to the Christmas Music Rule: Celtic Christmas
Recently the You’ve-GOT-to-Be-Kidding department released this tidbit: There are people who love Christmas/holiday music so dearly they listen to it year-round. These are the people who are much more severely affected than the I-Can’t-Wait-‘til-We-Start-Playing-Christmas-Music crowd. It’s probably safe to assume that these are the people who bounce out of bed every morning with a smile on their faces and a song in their hearts, eager to meet the new day.
I can wait for Christmas music to start. My husband, FCEtier, starts playing Christmas music on Thanksgiving. I can wait longer than that. Lots longer. Christmas, that three-month merchandising orgy, has lost its charm; it’s not merry, it’s mercenary. I do observe Christmas, but there are no Christmas cards, Christmas presents, or Christmas pudding. Most importantly, there is very little Christmas music, except when FCE is around.
If we judge holiday music by the same standards we rate our favorite musical forms, we find it overproduced, over-orchestrated, and full of phony cheer. Some people like that kind of thing. It is with great shock that I admit that I thoroughly enjoyed Putumayo’s new holiday release, Celtic Christmas. Even more shocking since it includes two of my three most hated holiday songs, “Little Drummer Boy” and “Auld Lang Syne” (the third is “The Twelve Days of Christmas”).
According to the liner notes, “Beautiful voices and entrancing Celtic Instrumentation provide an uplifting soundtrack for the holiday season.” It’s the “Celtic Instrumentation” that makes Celtic Christmas so refreshing—and relaxing (something usually not associated with the holidays). The album opens with The Albion Christmas Band performing “Here We Come A-Wassailing,” a cheery rendition of the old chestnut.
If listeners close their eyes while “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” and “Good King Wenceslaus” (both performed by Charles T. Cozens) play, they can see the snow glisten and feel a certain holiday cheeriness spread. The Gothard Sisters bring life to “The Little Drummer Girl” (not “Boy”) with a simple, instrumental arrangement (they can’t make me love the song, but they do make it bearable), and Dougie MacLean’s “Auld Lang Syne” brings the meaningful lyrics to the fore, something we often miss with the blaring of horns, shouts of drunks, and sloppy sentiments expressed at the passing from one year to the next.
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