An Xmas Message from Yoko

Since my column last week regarding premature holiday merriment, I have been enjoying, albeit reluctantly, the onset of the holiday season -- even if all that means is that I’ve been listening to Joni Mitchell’s “River” (1971) over and over again, with its surprisingly heartbreaking echo of “Jingle Bells" (1857). In my opinion, only a true genius could pull that off.

Unlike Joni Mitchell, whose song “River" is  an original piece that endures throughout the entire year, many artists have made the sometimes questionable decision to make holiday albums. It’s like the obligatory “Ave Maria” (1853) cover or requisite album of traditional Mexican folk songs... or maybe only Linda Ronstadt did that with “Canciones De Mi Padre” (1987).

These Christmas albums include, but are most definitely not limited to, Bob Dylan’s “Christmas in the Heart” (2009),  The Carpenters' "Christmas Collection" (1996), “Christmas with Johnny Cash” (2003), “James Brown’s Funky Christmas” (1995), “A Very Arcade Xmas” (2002) by Arcade Fire and Sufjan Stevens’ “Songs for Christmas” (2006).

Some more bizarre but possibly thought-provoking albums include Bette Midler’s “Cool Yule” (2006) -- by the way, watch her cover of TLC’s “Waterfalls” (1994) on Youtube -- and Ru Paul’s 1997 album “Ho Ho Ho” (seriously). Others include “The Regis Philbin Christmas Album” (2005), the very rare Yoko Ono promotional CD, “An Xmas Message From Yoko 1991," “Hello, I’m Shelley Duvall … Merry Christmas” (1991) and Boys II Men’s “Christmas Interpretations” (1993). These albums somehow get made, yet there remains a definite lack in the supply of Hanukkah and Kwanza music (however “Kwanza” does happen to be the name of Archie Shepp’s lesser-known album from 2006).

I think there is something about holiday music that makes people feel connected. Even if you don’t celebrate Christmas, watching the sailor-hat-wearing, eighty-year-old Rotary Club president lead Christmas carols at the local Christmas tree lighting in your hometown can be pretty special. My parents strongly encouraged me to attend these events growing up and not singing was never an option. This was difficult to work through as a preteen but now I have made peace with it.

Communal music experiences are now something I seek out. Over the summer I was part of a headphone choir in New York City. The piece of music that we sang, composed by Pete M. Wyer, was based on the Dylan Thomas poem “And Death Shall Have No Dominion” (1933). All the different parts (soprano, alto, etc.) started in various locations throughout the city. Then, with an app we all had downloaded to ensure we all started at the same time, we sang our parts independent of the other groups and walked along mapped out routes. Slowly, our paths began to converge and we all ended up singing together in Rockefeller Park overlooking the water on the most gorgeous June afternoon. People were staring and confused and a few distracted altos almost got hit by a car, but it was a powerful unifying experience.

I think that is why so many people (even Ru Paul and Yoko) are drawn to Christmas music. In a way, it represents a sense of togetherness and something that you get to share with the people around you. So I think the point is this: sing together. If what you are singing is a Christmas song, I will suggest “Christmas Conga” (1998) by Cyndi Lauper. But it doesn’t really matter what you sing. A Time magazine article on singing and the brain addresses group singing, saying that “it takes something incredibly intimate, a sound that begins inside you, shares it with a roomful of people and it comes back as something even more thrilling: harmony.”