Here’s a scenario: Imagine you’re a young singer with a talent for gospel. You hit it big a few years ago by combining your love of gospel and country and giving it a blues-influenced twist. Since then, your fame has become what will later devolve into a rockstar cliche: men want to be you, women want to be with you. Your reputation is so dangerous that during your third appearance on a nationwide television show the producers insist you be filmed from the waist up. You’re a firecracker – dangerous for the kids, despised by conservative parents.
Then, in 1957, you’re instructed by your record company to record a Christmas album. Half is to be secular, traditional holiday songs, and the other half is to be gospel. The gospel section is no problem. You can sing gospel music in your sleep. In fact, you already recorded a gospel EP the year before, so you just reuse that material. As for the secular side, you already know what to expect. You have your shortlist of songs to record, and when you record them they all showcase your charm, swagger, and audible grin.
But something’s missing. You need an opener. You have a soothing version of “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” in the can that could work. You even have a rollicking version of Ernest Tubb’s “Blue Christmas” that’s bound to become a memorable hit single. You’re at a loss. Do you find another well-known Christmas song? Do you find a powerful gospel tune and show off your chops?
No, obviously. You call your songwriting friends Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller and ask them to write. A few minutes later, they come in with a brand new song. Your band and you learn it, record it, and proceed to demolish every notion about holiday wholesomeness that has ever existed.
“Santa Claus is Back in Town” is the perfect Elvis Presley Christmas song. Sleazy, loose, and growling, this song paints Santa Claus not as a jolly old fat man, but as a slick, black Cadillac-driving womanizer who’s “comin’ down your chimney tonight.” This isn’t so much a song as it is a warning: you be a real good little girl because Santa Claus is back in town.
(There are no good covers. You can’t improve perfection.)
As if this album couldn’t get any better, it certainly did its job disrupting the old establishment: Irving Berlin heard Presley’s quietly soulful cover of “White Christmas” and had his entire staff call up radio stations around the country and demand the record not be played.
Merry 