On the 2nd Day of Christmas… “If Every Day Was Like Christmas” (album review)

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Elvis Presley dominated the airwaves for years, and maintains a posthumous presence today.  Though he’s renowned for hits such as “Hound Dog” and infamous pelvis gyration, his Christmas music ranks among the elite classics. Browsing the Elvis Christmas releases can be daunting, as his holiday tunes have been released and re-released an obnoxious number of times. For simplicity’s sake, I’m reviewing If Every Day Was Like Christmas. Grab a chair, crank up the stereo, and slip on the blue suede shoes.

Browsing the back of the album, you’ll notice that If Every Day Was Like Christmas is a hefty release. A whopping 24 tracks, it’s a purchase that feels well worth the cash. Every song is phenomenal. Festivities begin with “Why Can’t Every Day be Like Christmas.” Fair enough Elvis, I respect your holiday spirit, but that would require a year-round tree, decorations encroaching on other holidays, and a never-ending onslaught of relatives. Thus, it may be better that every day is not actually like Christmas. His point, however, is the tranquility and sense of unity which Christmas traditionally bestows upon the masses. Who can resist smiling with Xmas jingles blaring, jolly fat Santas ho-ho-hoing and red Starbucks cups adorning mittened hands?

As per usual, the content of Elvis’ album isn’t particularly new, but his renditions are the reason we all dust off the disc and throw it on the turntable, pop it in the CD player, or stream all 24 tracks. “Blue Christmas” bounces along merrily, despite the assertion of dampened sentiments. Presley brings his unique mumbling warble to each song. “Here Comes Santa Claus” shines with this recognizable delivery. As the song progresses you can almost see Elvis’ expression growing increasingly animated as his voice crescendos into an energetic “Cause Santa Claus comes tonight!” Try playing Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas,” then the Elvis version. The contrast is remarkable, and highlights the positive vibe Elvis emanates. Gone are the wistful, church-like Bing baritones. No offense at all, Bing. Your version set a standard. But Elvis broke barriers, which earned fame (and infamy).

“Santa Bring My Baby Back to Me” further illustrates the joyous nature so prevalent on If Every Day Was Like Christmas. Elvis sounds unlike a man depressed by absence from his gal, but rather finds consolation in begging Santa for a reunion. Why Santa has said female friend isn’t really explained. Let’s just hope Elvis hung a large enough stocking for his beloved. Interestingly, Elvis even brings his upbeat performance to serious tunes like “O Little Town of Bethlehem.” He understandably tones down the bulbous joviality which graces most other tracks, but he still manages to infuse such songs with a celebratory feel. Considering the fact that Christmas is intended as a season for generosity and caring, it feels more appropriate than funeral march adaptations which often pollute holiday albums. While you can’t go wrong with any Elvis Christmas release, If Every Day Was Like Christmas certainly comes with substantial play time and replay value. Spontaneous hip gyration is a known side effect, so grandma might be offended. Dance at your own risk.

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On the 6th Day of Christmas… “This Christmas I Spend with You” — Robert Goulet (album review)

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If you enjoyed Richard Cheese’s Silent Nightclub, you may appreciate Robert Goulet’s This Christmas I Spend with You. Before rushing to the nearest record store though, understand that Goulet opts for a serious lounge-style holiday album. While it’s possible you’ve never heard Goulet’s music, likely you remember him for the goofy boss from “Beetlejuice.” Yeah, the boss dude with a commendable moustache.

This Christmas I Spend with You serves a head-bobbing, finger-drumming dose of Christmas tunes. Robert Goulet epitomizes the slightly silly Vegas music that Cheese parodies. He half-sings, half-speaks the lyrics in what seems to be a feigned boom of a voice. Kind of like middle school boys lowering their vocal tones to impress their female counterparts. That being said, Goulet pulls off the album tremendously. Titular track “This Christmas I Spend with You,” highlights Goulet’s unique bass-tone. Listening, you can picture him swaying back and forth drink in hand, basking in the spotlight. He even chuckles to himself while singing which further reinforces the notion that you’re watching a lounge singer live.

Aside from the opening track, “This Christmas I Spend with You,” the rest of the fare consists of tried and true holiday tunes. However, Goulet adds his classy twist to the mix. He provides earnest Christmas lounge music. Most of the songs feature significant pauses at the beginning of the track. “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” continues for 14 seconds before Goulet initiates the serenading. Spicing up “Silver Bells” is a short intro which feels ripped from the script of a Bing Crosby musical. Therefore it’s no surprise Goulet stared in a production Camelot.

This Christmas I Spend with You really exhibits Goulet’s true singing prowess. The man can carry a tune and hold a note for a remarkably long time. With Goulet’s overpowering vocals, the instrumental backing is understated. It’s quite well arranged, and listening on a good stereo really shows the array of instruments. The strings, keys, percussion, and horns are exquisitely balanced. “Let it Snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow!” features a comically ill-timed horn though. Aside from the tuba toot, production is top notch.

The true standout tracks are the more emotive tunes, such as “Panis Angelicus” and “Ave Maria.” Though the lighter songs are pleasant, Robert Goulet’s bass tones feel more comfortable belting out serious, moving tracks. His bubbly Christmas favorites feel unintentionally comical. The latter half of the album, particularly “White Christmas,” “O Holy Night,” “Ave Maria,” and “O Come, All Ye Faithful” find Goulet in a calm groove. Just like Shakespearean actors who appear out of place in kitschy roles, Robert Goulet thrives in a traditional setting. If you enjoy Perry Como, Bing Crosby, Nat King Cole and the likes, definitely spend Christmas with Goulet. Be warned however that spontaneous moustache growths and uncontrollable bouts of baritone may result.

On the 7th Day of Christmas… “Silent Nightclub” — Richard Cheese (album review)

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Richard Cheese may not be a household name, though after this review you’ll likely plow through his entire discography quicker than a one horse open sleigh. A comedic singer, he performs lounge and swing style takes on top 40 hits. Hitting play sucks you into a portal, transporting listeners into a Vegas cocktail bar complete with martini and halfway unbuttoned silk shirt.

Amid Cheese’s extensive catalog is an aptly titled Silent Nightclub. As the name suggests, the album is an amalgamation of “holiday” hits. A quick glance at the tracklist and the brow furrows in confusion. Only five of the 15 total songs are traditional Christmas tunes. The other 10 are mainly pop hits which slightly relate to the holidays. And most of the time the connection is more of a stretch than the Grinch shimmying down a narrow brick chimney. Cheese opens with Dead Kennedys’ punk anthem “Holiday in Cambodia,” presumably because it contains the word holiday. He does however, use jingle bells and a Christmas melody to provide a festive ambiance.

Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” follows up “Holiday in Cambodia,” a hilarious reference to the Virgin Mary. Conservative religious folks may be offended, but one listen to the disc and it’s obvious Cheese isn’t meant to be taken seriously. Cleverly, he includes “Like a Virgin” and unless you’re quick to ponder the non-commercial aspects of Christmas, the reason for inclusion may pass you by like Santa skipping the naughty kid on your block. Cheese also includes “Ice, Ice Baby,” “Imagine,” “Naughty Girl,” “The Trees,” “I Melt With You,” and finishes on an appropriate note with “Holidae Inn.” His choices are undeniably unique for a Christmas CD, and you’ll be gnawing the candy cane in your martini in no time.

Amusingly, though predictably, even the holiday tracks aren’t exactly straightforward. The version of “Jingle Bells” on Silent Nightclub features animal noises rather than the actual lyrics. This album by no means seeks to replace the original versions of your holiday favorites. “Last Xmas” is actually only 18 seconds long, and Cheese explains the shortened Wham cover by proclaiming “…that song sucks.” Sorry Wham fans. Take your problem up with Richie. As the sole original track “Christmas In Las Vegas” paints an entertaining portrait of Vegas with a twist. Rudolph bets on red and the Wise Men roll sevens. Cheese exploits both Christmas and Las Vegas clichés, stuffing both into a witty stocking.

Silent Nightclub serves up a hearty, creative dose of mildly, though carefully and astutely selected tracks. Additionally, Cheese’s mock-serious, sleazy delivery packs a ramshackle sled of laughs. Try not to keep from bursting into fits of giggles while the artist woof-woof-woofs in tune to “Jingle Bells,” double-times through “Christmastime is Here,” or jollily bounces down John Lennon’s “Imagine.” Just like spiking eggnog spices up the holiday merriment, Richard Cheese’s Silent Nightclub is sure to get the Christmas party popping.