Rocking Around the Christmas Tree: A Review of 21 Holiday Lullabies
Let’s cut to the chase: 21 Holiday Lullabies by Various, released under Kelle Records, is like that one friend who shows up uninvited to your holiday party but ends up being the life of it. It’s a rock-infused yuletide rollercoaster that somehow manages to feel both chaotic and oddly comforting. If you’re expecting Bing Crosby vibes, think again—this album throws tradition out the window faster than Santa tosses coal into bad kids’ stockings.
Now, let me hit you with two tracks that stuck in my brain like tinsel on a cat. First up, “S.A.D.” (which stands for Seasonal Affective Disorder, not “Santa Ain’t Delivering”). This song is an emo kid’s Christmas dream come true. Imagine Jack Frost meets Kurt Cobain—dark, brooding, and just a little bit bitter about all the forced cheer. The lyrics are raw enough to make you rethink decking the halls while still weirdly catchy. I found myself humming it while wrapping gifts, only to realize I was scowling at a roll of ribbon.
Then there’s “Robots Don’t Like Christmas,” which might be the most bizarre yet brilliant addition to any holiday playlist ever. It’s basically what happens when someone asks, “What if robots celebrated Christmas?” Spoiler alert: they don’t. But the track is packed with crunchy guitar riffs and robotic vocal effects that sound like Siri got into a fight with Alexa over eggnog. Honestly, it’s so absurd that it works. By the second verse, I was fully convinced my toaster was judging me for eating cookies instead of fruitcake.
The rest of the album runs the gamut from classic covers like “White Christmas” (with a gritty twist) to original bangers like “Sell-Sell-Sell,” which feels like a punk rock protest against Black Friday madness. There’s even a track called “I’m Gonna Die On Christmas Eve,” because nothing screams “festive” like existential dread wrapped in power chords.
So here’s the kicker: 21 Holiday Lullabies isn’t perfect. Some songs are forgettable, others are straight-up bonkers, and the whole thing has the polish of a DIY basement recording session. But maybe that’s the charm. In a world full of saccharine carols and overly produced pop anthems, this album dares to ask, “Why can’t Christmas kick butt?” And honestly? I respect that.
Final thought: If Santa listened to this album, he’d probably trade his sleigh for a Harley. Ho ho holy cow.
