Every year, around the world, Christmas means one thing: a sudden flood of Christmas-related CDs. As everyone tries to cash in—we mean, demonstrate their holiday spirit—the Weekly has taken a random sampling of the available yuletide treats (meaning the ones that came unsolicted to us in the mail) and reviewed them here.
Maybe This Christmas Tree (2 stars)
Various Artists
It's an indie rock Christmas on Maybe This Christmas Tree, a mostly lifeless collection of Christmas standards and original holiday tunes from college-radio staples like Death Cab for Cutie, The Raveonettes, Ivy and Pedro the Lion.
Mopey, downbeat musicians are generally not the best choices to record Christmas music, and aside from a few bright spots—the Polyphonic Spree's typically exuberant version of John Lennon's "Happy Xmas (War is Over)," Pilate's cover of the Pogues' vulgar, cheeky "Fairytale of New York"—this album proves exactly why. Death Cab suck the life out of Phil Spector's "Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)," Pedro the Lion could make Santa himself want to slit his wrists with their take on "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day," and Belasana turn in an original about New Year's Eve, which sort of misses the point.
Reggae Pulse 4: Christmas Songs (1 star)
Various Artists
Yes, it's as bad as you're thinking it is. Reggae was once the proud, revolutionary seethe of the Kingston underclass, but now it's come to this: "White Christmas" set to listless beats derived from an island where it doesn't snow. And, boy, is "derived" the word.
The beats and keyboard accents are so denatured, they could back a Sesame Street Caribbean special. "Frosty the Snowman, "O Come All Ye Faithful," "Santa Claus is Coming to Town"—they're all the same song, thanks to production as homogenous as a Summerlin suburb. Before you stuff a stocking with this, check on the availability of lumps of coal. Your loved ones will appreciate the thought.
Big Bad Voodoo Daddy (2 stars)
Everything You Want for Christmas
When I think Christmas, I think swing. No, that's a lie; I really don't, and BBVD's seasonal album is one of the reasons why. Scotty Morris' vocals are too thin to carry a lot of these numbers, including the classic, "Merry Christmas Baby." I had happy childhood flashbacks listening to "Mr. Heatmiser," but not to the point where I wanted to listen to more than four minutes of it. The whole CD is best summed up by its last official track, "We Three Kings," which is so dirge-like that it should be retitled "Three Kings and a Funeral." This is nothing I want for Christmas. I don't even want it for Arbor Day.
Happy Holidays Las Vegas (4 stars)
Various
In case there was any question in your mind, this album proves beyond a doubt that we have a wealth of talent in our back yard (except for Dennis Bono and Lt. Gov. Lorraine Hunt, who might be fine apart but mix like oil and something that is even more watery than water here).
A number of seasonal songs are covered in this all-for-charity CD, from the corny "Christmas in Las Vegas" (Clint Holmes, Lesley Gore) and humerous "You're Not Santa Claus" (Pat Cooper) to the simply beautiful like "Christmas for the First Time" (Danny Gans) and "All I Want" (Martin Nievera). Even if all the proceeds did not go to the Foundation for Positively Kids, it would still be worth buying if only to hear Frank Moreno wax western on "Plenty of Misletoe."
LeAnn Rimes (2 stars)
What A Wonderful World
As a child, LeAnn Rimes signed a contract essentially offering Curb Records a career's worth of discs, therefore knocking out a Christmas album makes so much sense that it's a wonder she hasn't done this before. Mostly, this is exactly what you would expect: "White Christmas," "Have Yourself a Merry Christmas," and "O' Holy Night." The highlight here is "Just Love Me," a down and bluesy song that Rimes co-wrote with her husband. But "Just Love Me" belongs on a different and much better disc. Otherwise, What A Wonderful World is the sound of everything but the dial tone as LeAnn Rimes phones it in for the holidays.
A John Waters Christmas (1 star)
Various
Cult filmmaker John Waters has never tried to downplay his reputation for immaturity or camp, and Christmas is not the time for him to grow up. The Baltimore legend does not perform or sing on this, but anyone who enjoyed Hairspray will know what to expect as he mixes traditional carols performed by the likes of Alvin and the Chipmunks and obscure doo-wop groups with novelty tracks like "Here Comes Fatty Claus." If none of the music is exactly, well, even a little bit good, at least Waters' collection is itself a novelty: that rare holiday anthology that gets a Parental Advisory warning sticker.