Editor’s Note: RF welcomes a new contributor with this the first in a series of music-themed explorations. K.C Rawley’s work offers the smooth voice of an experienced writer and the rich observations of an attentive spirit. Welcome.
Future fenceposts by Ms. Rawley will appear under her own name.
Merry Christmas, Baby
by K.C Rawley
Like inspiration, the Christmas spirit can strike when you least expect it.
It all began with a green sweater. Not Christmas green — more of a spring green really, but enough of a change from my customary black that it flipped some holiday switch deep in my psyche and before I knew it I was pulling down the Christmas Converse with the silver bells off the closet shelf.
Then I rooted through my CDs for “The Edge of Christmas,” so I could hear the quintessential “Run Rudolph Run” — the Dave Edmunds version.
I had never heard the original, written in 1958 by Chuck Berry and famous Christmas songwriter Johnny Marks (“Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree”, “A Holly Jolly Christmas”). “Run Rudolph Run” began to exist for me in 1982, back in the days before rock bands thought recording Christmas albums was cool.
With holiday songs, it’s all about your favorite version, and I think it has a lot to do with the first time you heard it.
The rockabilly coolness of Dave Edmunds worked for me because, like so many camp followers of the British Invasion, I never appreciated my own country’s rock and roll until it was reflected back to me by pale skinny Anglo boys with long hair.
A Chuck Berry song? Or the Everly Brothers? No thanks. But recorded by Edmunds and his partner/ producer Nick Lowe as part of the band Rockpile, I ate it up.
Back in the day, Christmas records came out in 45 rpm singles. “Run Rudolph Run” was actually the B-side of Chuck Berry’s “Merry Christmas Baby.” My version of that song is the 1986 Bruce Springsteen cover.
In the record store, we’d get a box of holiday 45s and not quite have room to display them. Usually we’d cut down a cardboard box, wrap it in Christmas paper and stick it on the counter. We’d get in the Kinks’ “Father Christmas,” “Step into Christmas” by Elton John, and the ever-popular “Blue Christmas” by Elvis.
Springsteen’s live version of “Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town” was only available to disc jockeys at first. The Boss losing it and laughing as Clarence Clemens gives a hearty “ho, ho, ho” as Santa always cracked me up, too.
We had to make our own rock Christmas mix-tapes, pairing Joni Mitchell’s “River” (It’s comin’ on Christmas/They’re cutting down trees/They’re putting up reindeer/ and singing songs of joy and peace) and Jethro Tull’s “Jack Frost and the Hooded Crow,” and The Pretender’s “2000 Miles.”
Then sometime in the 1980s, “A Very Special Christmas” came out, which was a fundraiser for Special Olympics and a runaway hit, spawning sequels and proving there was a market for big name rock stars doing Christmas songs.
Now every punk, emo, and speed metal rocker has joined Barbra Streisand in the holiday records bin.
Our new family favorite is “All I Want for Christmas is You,” but we don’t like that crappy version by Mariah Carey, the performer it was written for. Nope, we want it by Olivia Olson, the little girl who sang it in “Love Actually,” our newest favorite Christmas movie.
Well, speaking just for myself, if I can’t have Olson, I’ll take it by My Chemical Romance. But that just proves what I have been accused of — being the world’s oldest emo-kid.
Nothing says “Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays” like a skinny white guy in eyeliner.
