When My Heart Finds Christmas

Musings of an Anxious Millennial Writer #07: Celebrating an underrated holiday gem

This is it. I'm putting a moratorium on (new) Christmas music. We don't need it. Everything that needs to be said has already been sung, harmonized, rapped, guitar soloed.  Maybe if a new song came out covering seasonal topics that haven't yet been explored (like a catchy tune about seasonal depression, maybe? Perhaps a jazz standard about the anxiety of waiting for online purchases to be delivered on time?) I’d be willing to give it a listen, but, likely, I’d still say it’s not needed. And I'm aware there have been some recent winter and Christmas-adjacent bangers (trust me, I’ve been listening to “Cuff It” on repeat since October).  I’m speaking specifically of rootin’, tootin’, holly, jolly, holiday hits.

I'm declaring war on Christmas music.

“But Jamie, can't people just enjoy things?” No, I'm a certified hater, naughty list be damned. Plus, I'm not saying people need to stop listening to Christmas music. I've had my holiday playlist on occasional shuffle. I'm simply requesting that pop stars and musicians stop making new Christmas music. Covers are still OK, though they're on thin ice too. (LeAnn Rimes is especially on notice for that cover of “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas.”) Even if there is something new to explore, even if someone comes up with a holiday song that breaks the mold, stands out, and becomes the Christmas Wrapping of the Gen-Z generation, it will still have tough shoes to fill, as there will never be any better than the best modern Christmas album ever made. The one that happened back in the 1990s.

I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong. No, it absolutely is not Mariah Carey’s Merry Christmas.

I’m talking about When My Heart Finds Christmas (1992) by Harry Connick Jr., the reigning king of holiday tunes, right behind Bing Crosby.

My fondness for Harry Connick Jr. has been well documented here before. I won’t deny it. But if ever there’s a time to confess my undying love for the crooner, it’s during the holiday season. Hell, as much as I’m iffy on his character, he’s in one of my favorite (and most festive) episodes of Will & Grace.

When My Heart Finds Christmas has 14 songs in total, which, to be fair, is a little excessive (there are only 12 days of Christmas, after all). But one of them is a New Year’s Eve song, so I guess that evens things out. It starts with a Christmas favorite, “Sleigh Ride,” that’s big band-esque, jazzy, swingy; all very appropriate for a man from New Orleans. And yet it feels so Manhattan—a version of a classic that you’d hear while sipping cocktails at a Christmas gala in the Upper West Side.

This is followed by the titular track “When My Heart Finds Christmas.” Harry’s not about the bullshit, he knows what you came here for and doesn’t make you wait too long. This song feels like it’s been around forever, not just made for this album. I’m kind of surprised it hasn’t caught on more as a song that gets covered by each new generation. Is it a little too slow, a little too sentimental, or a little too melodramatic? Yes, to all, but for each jaunty jingle there’s always a slower one to balance it out. Sure, all the versions of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” are fun, but let’s give the “Blue Christmas”-es, “Pretty Paper”-s, and “Please Come Home for Christmas”-es their flowers, too. Plus, this song has its main purpose and does it well: to prove that Harry Connick, Jr. is a crooner god among crooner men, fit to adorn the Mount Rushmore of crooners right alongside the likes of Mel Torme, Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole, and Bing Crosby (Crooner Mount Rushmore has five, deal with it, crooners are better than presidents).

Then we hit the apex of the album. A little premature, sure, but track three is the one for me. “(It Must Have Been Ol’) Santa Claus” is the right kind of jazzy, fun, Christmas jaunt. It’s your standard tale of a kid spotting Santa in his house on Christmas, fairly certain its not his father, but without any of the love triangle melodrama that comes with most. The twist in this one, however, is that Santa and Li’l Harry have a mutual recognition of one another. There’s no mistake who it is, and Santa’s not pissed that Li’l Harry knows—in fact, he even leaves him with a souvenir. The Beach Boys were right, that Santa’s a pretty cool cat.

Songs about Santa should always be fun, whimsical, and for some reason, always oddly sexual (this one is not the latter). This song also nails the most important factor in a Christmas song: it’s corny as hell. Christmas is corny. But that’s ok! Everyone’s allowed to be corny from time to time. I’m corny more often than not. Being corny and liking the holidays won’t have your punk card revoked, I promise. But then again, what do I know? Mine was taken from me before I even had a chance to laminate it.

I’d do a full run-through of the album, but, as I said, it’s 14 songs long. And man, there are a lot of sacred songs. Even a good little Catholic girl like myself can only take so much holy rolling. Besides, everyone knows that secular songs are always way better. “The Blessed Dawn of Christmas Day” is undoubtedly beautiful but also woefully boring and “I Pray On Christmas,” (both Connick, Jr.) is a lot more fun and sounds like a song you’d hear sung from a gospel choir rather than at midnight mass, but not one I’d go out of my way to include on a Christmas party playlist. His other standard, non-spiritual covers continue the trend of fun, jazzy, and playful. His cover of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” might not top The Crystals’ version, but “Let It Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow,” is on par for me with Dean Martin’s.

When My Heart Finds Christmas isn’t a flawless album, but even White Christmas has its sacred slowdowns like “Adeste Fideles” and “Faith of Our Fathers.” There’s something for everyone, kind of. There’s just one thing When My Heart Finds Christmas lacks when compared to Crosby’s holiday behemoth: and that’s a tune about how Christmas is celebrated in Hawaii. The only Christmas song that really matters.

I could wax more about how Harry Connick, Jr.’s When My Heart Finds Christmas doesn’t get the credit it deserves, but I couldn’t be more wrong. It was the best-selling holiday album in the United States in 1993 and was certified triple platinum in 2005. It was the twelfth best-selling holiday album in the U.S. through 2014. This isn’t a hidden gem, it’s just managed to do what so few others have: keep Harry Connick, Jr.’s originals his own, and not get played to death in every megastore and every commercial throughout the holiday season. And really, isn’t that my whole problem with most modern Christmas music? Harry’s broken the mold and carved out a place for himself, and no one else can touch that.

Also, fuck Michael Bublé. We don’t mention his name in this house.