Tired of the same old Christmas songs? So were these countercultural carolers
As the holiday season approaches and familiar tunes from artists like Mariah Carey and Wham! fill the airwaves, a growing number of countercultural musicians are stepping into the spotlight with their own unique takes on Christmas music. This intriguing blend of genres—ranging from roots reggae to thrash metal and pop-punk—challenges the conventional sounds and themes associated with the holidays, offering listeners an alternative perspective that resonates with deeper emotions and societal critiques. By juxtaposing the joyous symbols of Christmas with more niche musical styles, these artists create a striking contrast that invites reflection on the true essence of the season.
One standout example comes from Jacob Miller’s 1978 track, “We Wish You A Irie Christmas.” In this roots reggae rendition, Miller infuses the traditional carol with Rastafarian themes of liberation and self-worth. The familiar call for figgy pudding transforms into a celebration of contentment and inner peace, as Miller encourages listeners to embrace joy even in the face of poverty. His lyrics remind us that the biblical Christmas in Bethlehem was devoid of material excess, urging a return to the spiritual roots of the holiday. In stark contrast, the thrash metal band Sodom, through their side project Onkel Tom Angelripper, takes the innocent German carol “Kling, Glöckchen, Klingelingeling” and reimagines it as a chilling horror story. By maintaining the original lyrics but layering them with heavy, distorted guitars and guttural growls, they evoke a sense of danger and foreboding, transforming the Christkind’s plea for warmth and acceptance into a menacing demand.
Adding to this eclectic mix, the pop-punk band the Descendents delivers a raw and poignant take on holiday grief with their song “Christmas Vacation.” The track narrates the experience of losing a loved one to substance abuse, encapsulating the complex emotions that often accompany the festive season. Through jangly guitars and heartfelt lyrics, the song captures the narrator’s ambivalence about the situation, reflecting a deeper truth about the holidays that is often overshadowed by the cheerfulness of mainstream music. Collectively, these artists offer a multifaceted exploration of the Christmas experience, blending joy, fear, and grief in a way that complements rather than contradicts the more traditional holiday narratives.
In this way, the intersection of metal, reggae, and punk with Christmas music not only enriches the holiday soundscape but also serves as a reminder that the season can evoke a wide range of emotions. These alternative tracks encourage listeners to reflect on the complexities of their own holiday experiences, challenging the notion that Christmas must be solely about joy and celebration. Instead, they acknowledge the deeper, sometimes darker, realities that many face during this time of year, ultimately enhancing our understanding of what it means to celebrate the season.
What happens when the grinding sounds of metal music collide with the innocence of Christmas?
Alexander Koerner/Getty Images
With
Mariah Carey
and Wham!
saturating airwaves with their holiday tunes, it’s beginning to sound a lot like Christmas.
But if all you want for Christmas is a reprieve from stereotypical Christmas music, you’re not alone.
Despite the fact that they often rebel against conformity and commercialism, many countercultural musicians have been inspired to produce holiday tracks of their own. Because the symbols of Christmas are so widely recognizable, juxtaposing them with the sounds and values of more niche musical styles can have striking effects.
Here’s how genres like roots reggae, thrash metal and pop punk have added new layers to familiar holiday tropes:
A roots reggae Christmas revival
Certain sounds elicit certain expectations.
If you hear
sleigh bells and a children’s choir
, lyrics about wintry fun can’t be far. If you hear off-beat reggae guitars and Jamaican accents, you’ll probably picture pot and palm trees, not Christmas.
And yet the roots reggae sound of Jacob Miller’s “We Wish You A Irie Christmas” infuses the classic “We Wish You a Merry Christmas”
with Rastafarian liberation theology
.
Singers of the classic carol – which some historians
trace to 16th-century England
– clamor for
figgy pudding
, a traditional British Christmas dessert. They refuse to leave until they get their sweets: “We won’t go until we get some / So bring it out here!”
By contrast, Miller’s Christmas is “
irie
,” which, in
Jamaican Patois
, roughly translates to contentment and inner peace.
Jacob Miller’s 1978 recording ‘We Wish You A Irie Christmas’ critiques materialism.
In his version, Miller points out that poverty and joy are not mutually exclusive: “We rub it and dub it to the Christmas ‘pon a broke pocket this year.” He also stresses freedom from material desire: “Don’t kill nuf oneself to buy it all.”
After all, the biblical Christmas in Bethlehem had no toys – and no snow either, just like the Caribbean.
For Rastafarians like Miller, the renewal promised by Christmas was deeply personal. In the track, a word that sounds like “Ice-mas” is actually “I’s-mas.” In Rastafarianism,
the “I” is the deity contained in each person
. Miller’s Christmas revelers dance to their own divinity, anticipating a return to the promised land.
In doing so, Miller turns a simple, well-worn carol into an anthem of self-worth and liberation.
Thrash metal Christmas horror
Other genres can recast an innocent carol’s lyrics into a horror story.
The 19th-century German carol “
Kling, Glöckchen, Klingelingeling
” was written from the perspective of the “Christkind,” a Christmas gift-bringer in parts of Europe and South America. This “little Jesus” brings gifts in countries where
Santa Claus
isn’t part of holiday traditions.
Each stanza is framed by a melody and words that evoke the sounds of a ringing bell, which are reflected in the title. In the carol, the Christkind implores children to let it inside so it doesn’t freeze to death. Next, the Christkind promises gifts in return for being let into the living room. Finally, the Christkind asks the children to open their hearts to it.
Who could corrupt this child-friendly pitch for piety?
Enter
Thomas “Angelripper” Such
, a former coal miner and the front man of the German thrash metal band Sodom.
Where earlier heavy metal could be
gloomy and occult
, Sodom raised the temperature even more with gory, blasphemous lyrics,
buzzsaw guitars and snarled screams
. Sodom’s side project, Onkel Tom Angelripper, has recorded metal versions of popular German songs, including “Kling, Glöckchen, Klingelingeling.”
Things take an ominous turn in Onkel Tom Angelripper’s version of the German Christmas classic ‘Kling, Glöckchen, Klingelingeling.’
Without changing the lyrics, the thrash metal sound transforms the carol’s wholesomeness into horror. A twee wind arrangement is cut off by
heavy, distorted guitars
and a growled “Kling.” Metal musicians often use these sounds to
evoke feelings of danger
.
Angelripper’s caroler sounds more like a large predator who manipulates and bribes his way into a home. In this framing, the final stanza’s line – “open your hearts to me!” – sounds less like a call for communion and more like an ominous threat of mutilation. It’s a home invasion akin to that in the classic Christmas movie “Home Alone,” but it’s all terror, no humor.
This musical corruption of ambiguous lyrics lays bare the fragility of festive innocence.
Christmas grief gets the punk treatment
There’s a whole catalog of
melancholic Christmas songs
, from Elvis Presley’s “
Blue Christmas
” to Bing Crosby’s “
I’ll Be Home for Christmas
.”
But few touch on painful themes of substance abuse, suicide and guilt like the raw-yet-catchy “
Christmas Vacation
” by pop-punk pioneers the Descendents.
For better or worse, many of the Descendents’ songs are unabashedly immature, petulant and sometimes offensive. Yet their boyish bravado puts moments of vulnerability into relief.
“Christmas Vacation” is no different.
Over jangly guitars and sparse bass, front man Milo Aukerman recalls an alcoholic friend or partner who “took a vacation into oblivion.” And while this turn of events wasn’t a surprise to the narrator, that didn’t change anything: “I knew about your plans / I really did understand / But you didn’t let me know / I wasn’t invited to go.”
The Descendents’ 1985 track ‘Christmas Vacation’ is about loss and longing.
The lyrics portray a process of ongoing grief. What makes “Christmas Vacation” poignant is its lyrical vacillation. The narrator wonders: Did she leave forever? Will she be back? Is she to blame? Am I?
The vocal harmony in the chorus – a pop punk staple – mirrors this ambivalence. In the track, the joining of voices starts to sound like a wail. An expected feature of pop punk is transformed into a moving expression of grief and loneliness: a common, less celebrated, holiday experience.
Rather than sneer at or mock Christmas, these three tracks give voice to the complicated emotions that can accompany the holidays. Miller evokes gratitude and hope; Angelripper provokes fear and vulnerability; the Descendents dwell on grief and longing. And all three perspectives end up complementing the focus of mainstream music on food, fancy gifts, snow and family.
Florian Walch does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
