Advent song for December 6th: Family Life

Edit: now featuring the correct video!

Here on the gladallover musical advent calendar I always like to dedicate Saturdays to something a bit different, so here for your enjoyment is an anomaly: a song that both sounds and is sad, as well as being haunting and lovely. It was probably recorded around 1996, though factual information about the band, Glaswegians The Blue Nile, is often hard to nail down with any certainty. It is, in any case, a gorgeous listen and one which will set you up nicely for your Christmas shopping/trip to the garden centre/whatever it is you do on the first Saturday in December. Me? I’m off to visit a palace built by a Tsar.

Advent song for December 5: Faith In Santa

Greetings from the Baltic coast. You join me as I depart Tallinn for Helsinki, where I am told it’s even colder. No matter; I have tea to warm my blood and music to warm my heart, though this particular number is more likely to send shivers down your spine than warm your cockles, for which I can only apologise and say: we’re all in this together. This is about as bad as it gets, so if you’re still with me by the end you can safely stay for the long haul. Bring tissues.

Advent song for December 4: Merry Christmas Darling

All Carpenters songs are sad, and by their standards this is actually quite cheery, but it is still about being away from the one you love at Christmas, which is one of the staple themes of Sad Christmas. It’s tricky working out how best to balance songs like this, and yesterday’s, with the genuinely traumatising stuff that’s yet to come. What I’m banking on is that the song I have in mind for Christmas Eve will make it all ok again. Fingers crossed.

Advent song for December 2: Christmas Carol

I need to warn you that Last Christmas is really at the very light-hearted end of this year’s selection of songs. Separation, imprisonment, death, poverty and familial breakdown are common themes, sometimes all at the same time. There’s also a generous helping of tragic children and country music, both of which feature in this harrowing number from Skip Ewing, which does at least feature a happy ending, if you can stick with it that far. I’m easing you in gently.

Advent song for December 1: Last Christmas

Obviously we have to start with a classic, and they don’t come much more classic than this tragic tale of big coats, bigger hair and the girl who left George Michael for Andrew Ridgeley and lived to regret it. I never get tired of watching this video, though I have only just noticed the peculiar moment at around two minutes in where it looks exactly as though George is struck down by a violent stomach cramp just as he’s pondering his lost love. Merry Christmas!

The Clanging Chimes of Doom

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December has crept up on me a bit, and I greet it with around 30% mobility after I leaned down to put on a shoe this morning and something in my back went SPOING. Which makes this year’s advent calendar theme, Sad Christmas, more than a little appropriate. Today’s song will appear a little later, once I’ve found some painkillers. Hold on tight because I’ve got some doozies for you this year.

White Christmas, December 24: The King Of Soul

I have loved almost all of the recordings of White Christmas we’ve had this advent, but as soon as I heard this one I knew I was saving it for Christmas Eve, because it’s not someone singing the well-known Bing Crosby song; it’s a completely immersive reimagining of the original, and a glorious piece of music in its own right. Turn up the volume really loud before you begin. Happy Christmas!

White Christmas, December 23: A Treat

In the 1940s popular music often wasn’t immediately, or ever, associated with an individual performer – many versions of songs would be recorded, and the composer generally given the lasting credit. Which is why, I’m thrilled to be able to tell you, there were FOUR versions of White Christmas recorded and released in 1942, and here they all are in a playlist that I have made using science. It’s interesting that the first three (by, in order, Gordon Jenkins, Charlie Spivak and Freddy Martin, though in each case those are the names of the bandleaders rather than the singers, who feature as “guest vocalists”) are all quite like each other and not a great deal like Bing’s (and, because unfamiliar, much more instantly evocative of that era than Bing’s).

The version of Bing that we had on December 1, incidentally, was from the movie Holiday Inn, whereas this is the solo recording which you probably know better, so I tricked you when I said we were getting Bing over and done with at the beginning. Sorry.