Anyone else have a record that just reminds you of the holidays, without a single mention of good cheer, nogs of any variety, the baby Jesus, or bowls full of jelly? I do - they’re albums that make me feel as comfortable and at ease as hot chocolate and fire in the fireplace at Christmas Eve does. I skipped the obvious choices - your Sintaras, Armstrongs, Fitzgeralds, and went right for the oddballs. Maybe it’s provenance, maybe it’s a penchant for warm production, but here they are. What are yours?

Richard Hawley/Coles Corner - Go to Chicagoist to see how excited I am to be seeing Hawley live tonight, and then go buy this album so you have it as the holiday season really ramps up. It’s all sweet, warmly vintage sounds, twinkling melodies, and dreamy soundscapes that are the sonic equivalent of a freshly-fallen snow…think a couple of Elvises with some Everlys and an Orbison for good measure.

Mercury Rev/Opus 40 EP - I picked up this mini album as a Japanese import from the crazysuperindie record store where I worked in my student days, and I lost it a while ago and only recently found it again. One listen brought me straight back to lying on a futon in a candlelit dorm room somewhere in wintry Boston, enraptured by the esoteric songwriting and ambient layering of the extended version of “Opus 40,” the heartbreaking uneasiness of the Dylan cover “He Was A Friend of Mine,” and the lovely possibility in “Silver Streets.” Then again, it could have been the pot.

Bob Dylan/Live 1966 - This might date back to the winter I spent in London, but Dylan’s iconic Royal Albert Hall concert is almost untouchable when it comes to live recordings. The fascination of the audience with the performer is almost palpable, and the preservation of that moment in time is so comforting and so timeless, it fits perfectly with the perpetual coziness of the holidays.

John Coltrane/Blue Train - The aforementioned crazysuperindie record store that was daft enough to employ me for three years during college was divided into two halves: “college rock” (as we called Pavement, Sunny Day Real Estate, Modest Mouse, and the ilk in those days) and “jazz,” a collection so impressive that we attracted a seemingly endless stream of jazzbos - those middle aged men with crazy hair who smell a little off and will drop $500 on vinyl in a single visit. While I worked there, I amassed about 100 solid jazz records that I enjoyed mostly while smoking the aforementioned pot, but Blue Train’s perfect chaos has always reminded me of those winter breaks spent hibernating from the Wisconsin winter and planning my escape back to school.

Tom Waits/Bone Machine - Here’s another one that conjures memories of trying to swallow Kafka from a Christmas light-strewn dorm study hall, but in retrospect there’s a certain coziness in the production of Bone Machine that I don’t think comes through on some later Waits stuff. It was my introduction to the man, and I remember my first impression being “is he playing car parts?!” and the second being “Tom Waits looks kind of like Santa, if Santa had no beard and need to check into rehab.”

Come, tell me your “winter” albums of choice…

Share This