Richard Hogan: Christmas songs are like time machines — hop in and enjoy the nostalgia

Listening to the soundtrack of my Christmases past...

Richard Hogan: "I was listening to Christmas songs in July. Madness. I love Christmas songs. At the right time of year, of course."

Christmas songs are like loose hairs from your head. Stick with me while I try to explain this rather strange comparison.

Everyone admires hair: They touch it, comment on how silky it is, how beautiful.

They ask questions about the person’s treatment of it in hope of attaining such brilliantly shiny hair.

But should one of those magnificent hairs come loose from its scalp and wind up somewhere in someone else’s vicinity, well, then, chaos ensues.

People flee from it like millions of Japanese from Godzilla. There is disgust at how a hair might have got loose; soup is sent back indignantly, and reviews about a ‘disgusting hair on my plate’ are left on Yelp.

Yeah, well, that’s Christmas songs. We love them in context, but out of context they make us cringe, gag even.

I was visiting Niagara Falls in 2003 when I first encountered this phenomenon.

There is a quaint little town outside Niagara. I was strolling around without a care in the world, when I stumbled into a shop, out of the heat in July, to be greeted with ‘Oh, the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful’.

I looked around, wondering what the hell had happened.

I was surrounded by Christmas decorations; it was an ‘all-year Christmas shop’.

I felt weird, like something unpleasant had entered my life. It had: I was listening to Christmas songs in July. 

I left immediately, looking for my girlfriend to tell her about the strange world I had entered. She went in to see what I was on about, and came out as quickly. ‘Madness’, she said.

But flash-forward six or seven months and those same songs were making every shiny hair on my head dance with joy. There were a lot more shiny hairs to dance in 2003. 

I love Christmas songs. At the right time of year, of course. Otherwise, they’re just like loose hairs: Awful.

There is a Proustian quality to Christmas songs. They allow us to access our childhood, like dipping a madeleine in tea. They transport us back into the skin of a younger self.

I love 'Silent Night'. I was once 10 years old and in the Douglas choir. I have such vivid memories of practising in the local priest’s house every Thursday evening in December, getting ready for the big Christmas Eve performance.

The entire village packed into the little church and we young Pavarottis blasted out these ancient songs to please the proud ears of our parents. 

‘O come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant’. My friend elbowed me as the priest drank from the holy cup. We joked about how full the chalice was.

It’s hard to sing 'Here Comes Santa Claus' through tears of laughter. So, whenever I hear 'Silent Night' I close my eyes, and Douglas Church unfolds before me in all its 1985 splendour.

I can see the crib, the priest with his hands outstretched, the fake gifts surrounding the manger.

We’re all dressed up in parodies of fashion, full with dreams of the night ahead: Casio keyboard, a calculator watch, LOLO balls, or whatever was the fad of the time.

I can see some friends, who are no longer living. My father never makes those memories. So, there is sadness in them, too.

That’s the power of these songs: They connect us to our past. My favourite Christmas song is Fairytale of New York. 

YES, THAT SONG AGAIN

It is an anti-Christmas song, but that’s probably the appeal of it. The narrator is in a drunk tank, retelling his story of loss. 

It’s just perfect writing, It’s nostalgic, while not being overly sentimental. There is bitterness in it, too. His love interest is calling him a ‘scumbag’.

Some songs should never be covered, because they are timeless classics. I’m thinking of Madonna’s attempt at 'American Pie' — stay away from a masterpiece.

Ronan Keating butchered the Pogues’ song with his nasal drone and by changing one line to ‘You’re cheap and you’re haggard’ — how dare you! That’s like scribbling a cheesy grin on the Mona Lisa.

Over the years, Wham’s 'Last Christmas' has crept into being a real favourite of mine. Again, I remember when that came out in 1984.

It was held off the music-charts top spot by 'Do They Know It’s Christmas?', the Bob Geldof Band Aid charity song. What a year 1984 was for Christmas songs.

My friend Don Waters came in to school with all the lyrics of Geldof’s song written out by hand. I had never seen anything like it.

He told me he played it over and over again until he had every word perfectly transcribed. What dedication. We used to laugh about that as we grew up.

Don died in his early 20s, from leukaemia. I think about him and his curls every time I hear that song.

Whenever we do something repetitively, like celebrating Christmas, it creates tradition, and when we put a soundtrack to that activity we are creating nostalgia.

Christmas FM hit our airwaves last Monday. My children absolutely love it. I do, too.

Christmas songs are cloyingly sweet time machines. Hop in this Christmas, and enjoy the trip!