Jingle hell

Rick Nelson and Claude Peck dispense unasked-for advice about clothing, relationships, grooming and more in a weekly dialogue.

CP: So the profusion of Christmas music is working your last nerve, Ebenezer?

RN: Yes and no. Remember when we were pawing through the Kiehl's department at Neiman Marcus last week, and a prepubescent Michael Jackson was screeching "Up on the housetop reindeer pause" on the sound system? That made me ashamed to be a Christmas-loving Congregationalist. But then at the VocalEssence "Welcome Christmas!" concert I heard a rousing version of "I Saw Three Ships" that totally restored my sagging yuletide spirit.

CP: For me it's not so much that one hears Christmas music all over at this time of year -- in stores, in restaurants, ringtones and greeting cards, on radio and TV -- as it is that the music being forced upon us is so bland and forgettable. If I hear that Tubular Bells-y Andre champagne tune one more time I will blow a cork.

RN: And to think that "Carol of the Bells" is rooted in a beloved Ukrainian folk song. Unfortunately, it has eroded into the Xmas version of "It's A Small World," because once you hear it the danged tune never leaves your brain. What about Tchaikovsky? Every year around this time I think about Peter Ilyich, how excited he was to learn about a brand-new instrument, the celesta, how he secretly incorporated it into his then work-in-progress, "The Nutcracker," and how he used its uniquely tinkly sound to create an aural signature for the character of the Sugarplum Fairy. Wait, how do I even know that?

CP: Well, it does concern a fairy and a ballet. ...

RN: I'm sorry, did you say something? My point is, 115 years later, Tchaikovsky's effort has slid from artistic ingenuity to what is possibly the most ripped-off melody in the history of Western civilization. I just heard it on a car-insurance commercial.

CP: As I start to hear more and more classical music, I keep hearing melodies that have been ripped off by pop stars or wedged into jingles. I do love all the kooky Christmas music that comes out of the woodwork only at this time of year. The Chipmunks doing carols, for example, or "Santa Claus Was a Black Man" from the John Waters Christmas CD. Or "Mele Kalikimaka/Christmas Island," as featured on the cast recording of Theater Latté Da's "A Christmas Carole Petersen." That one makes me want to don a grass skirt and drink eggnog from a half-coconut.

RN: How about Barbra breathlessly flinging herself through "Jingle Bells"? Or Judy's plaintive "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas"? Classics. It makes me wonder if Liza recorded a Christmas album. Or Ethel. I just read "Ethel Merman: A Life" -- wow, could I say anything gayer? -- but I don't recall seeing anything about The Merm belting her way through "Good King Wenceslas."

CP: She is said to have loved Christmas, but I can't locate an "Ethel's Carols" album.

RN: I always thought the strangest Christmas tune was from an album in my parents' collection, one my siblings and I played until we wore it out. It was called "Christmas With Conniff" -- seriously, could we have been more Miracle Whip? -- and the song was "Christmas Bride." The opening lyrics, I kid you not, were, "Santa, make her my bride for Christmas." I used to sing it to my sister Cheri, until she became engaged. Why she still even speaks to me, I'm sure I don't know.

CP: She told me she secretly still holds that against you, but I promised not to tell.

RN: Ho, ho, ho to you, too. Perhaps you would like me to sing it?

CP: That's OK. I think I'll do my holiday shopping at Target, which plays no music of any kind, anytime, all the year round. "We long have maintained that we want a distraction-free shopping environment," a Target spokeswoman told me. (Note to other music-happy retailers: Target seems to do pretty well with this policy.) Maybe that's why every time I go in for new gym socks I exit with a red-plastic grocery cart full of must-haves.

RN: So long as you don't put Kenny G's "Miracles: The Holiday Album" in there.

Click on W.G.'s weekly podcast at www.startribune.com/withering. Share your Christmas music horror stories with at witheringglance@startribune. com.