Tired of the same old Christmas songs? So were these countercultural carolers
As the holiday season approaches, the airwaves become dominated by familiar classics like Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas Is You” and Wham!’s “Last Christmas.” However, for those seeking an alternative to the conventional sounds of the season, a diverse array of countercultural musicians have stepped up to offer their own unique takes on holiday music. Genres such as roots reggae, thrash metal, and pop punk have taken the traditional themes of Christmas and infused them with new meanings, creating a rich tapestry of sound that challenges the typical narratives associated with the holiday.
One standout example is Jacob Miller’s “We Wish You A Irie Christmas,” which reinterprets the classic carol with a distinct Rastafarian twist. Miller’s version emphasizes themes of inner peace and liberation, contrasting sharply with the materialistic desires often found in mainstream Christmas songs. His lyrics reflect a deep understanding of the human experience, acknowledging that joy can exist even in poverty: “We rub it and dub it to the Christmas ‘pon a broke pocket this year.” This celebration of self-worth and spiritual renewal transforms a familiar carol into an anthem of resilience, reminding listeners that the essence of Christmas transcends material possessions.
In stark contrast, the thrash metal rendition of the German carol “Kling, Glöckchen, Klingelingeling” by Onkel Tom Angelripper transforms the song’s innocent narrative into something dark and foreboding. With heavy distorted guitars and growled vocals, Angelripper’s version evokes a sense of danger and dread, turning the Christkind’s invitation to enter a home into a menacing demand. This juxtaposition of sweet lyrics with aggressive instrumentation lays bare the fragility of holiday innocence, presenting a chilling take on the season that invites listeners to confront the darker aspects of human nature.
Pop punk also makes its mark with the Descendents’ “Christmas Vacation,” a song that explores themes of loss and longing during the holiday season. The track reflects on the pain of a friend or partner who has succumbed to substance abuse, capturing the complexities of grief that often accompany the holidays. The vocal harmonies, a hallmark of pop punk, add an emotional layer to the song, transforming what could be a simple narrative into a poignant expression of sorrow and vulnerability. Through these diverse musical interpretations, artists not only provide an alternative to the typical festive tunes but also give voice to the multifaceted emotions that the holiday season can evoke, from joy and hope to fear and grief. In doing so, they enrich the conversation around Christmas music, reminding us that the holiday experience is as varied as the people who celebrate it.
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.
