And so, to the letter ‘A’. And it’s Christmas, it would seem.There will be a smattering of Christmas albums that appear on my list as I continue to work through the alphabet. This one, I think, will be the best of them. Released in 1963, when Phil Spector was seen as a bit of an eccentric genius, rather than a convicted murderer, this album set a benchmark for Christmas records that is unlikely to be beaten. It’s a set of Christmas standards, mostly, all enhanced by Spector’s wall of sound. Put it on, and you can almost feel the open fire and smell the roast potatoes.
‘White Christmas’ kicks of the album. A song which is often a bit soporific is transformed by sterling vocal from Darlene Love. It very much sets the tone of what’s to follow. ‘Frosty The Snowman’ by the Ronnettes is all vocal harmonies and clattering drums, and to be honest, by the end of the track, the template is set. It’s remarkable, really, that the album sounds so consistent in it’s approach, despite the number of different contributors. It’s a good illustration of the importance of the producer to a record. Spector keeps the energy, and the quality high without – only ‘I Saw Mummy Kissing Santa Claus’ doesn’t hit the same heights, and that’s because it’s a rubbish song – there’s not much anyone could have done about that.
Only at the end does the album pause for reflection, as Spector himself mumbles a Christmas greeting over the top of a ‘Silent Night’ singalong. It’s a self-indulgent way to finish an album, but it’s well earned. And it’s Christmas.
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