The 20 greatest Christmas carols – ranked!
Without wishing to be sniffy about it, there are definitely better traditional carols out there than the stuff you hear every Christmas without fail. Whether rendered by a choir, or Annie Lennox on her 2010 album A Christmas Cornucopia, See, Amid the Winter’s Snow has a beautiful tune, unflattened by overfamiliarity.
19. In Dulci Jubilo (1328)
Forget Mike Oldfield’s infuriatingly perky instrumental version – which enjoyed wide exposure as the theme to the TV series Fanny Cradock Cooks for Christmas, no less – and listen instead to In Dulci Jubilo sung at a slower tempo: it is strangely haunting and is improved immeasurably by not featuring a widdly-woo guitar solo.
18. The Little Drummer Boy (1941)
Popularised in the 50s by the Trapp Family Singers – of The Sound of Music fame – and subsequently performed by everyone from Justin Bieber and Busta Rhymes to Terry Wogan and Aled Jones, The Little Drummer Boy lands just the right side of mawkish and twee and ends up rather touching.
17. It Came Upon the Midnight Clear (1849)
You want the original US version of It Came Upon the Midnight Clear, rather than the 1874 European remix: the latter has a different (inferior) tune, the former is lilting, beautiful and has spawned umpteen latter-day versions from country (Johnny Cash, Tammy Wynette) to jazz (Ella Fitzgerald).
16. Gaudete (1582)
Not really a Christmas service singalong – lyrics in Latin presumably being beyond the tipsier attenders of midnight mass – Gaudete is best-known today in Steeleye Span’s 1973 hit a cappella version. But banish the spectre of Alan Partridge playing the latter in his car: Gaudete is powerful and faintly ominous.
15. Ding Dong Merrily on High (1924)
This is a secular tune, from a 16thcentury book of French dances, repurposed. The lyrics are a bit showy – their author, George Ratcliffe Woodward, apparently “delighted in archaic poetry”, which rather suggests he was the kind of person who uses the word “methinks” in every day conversation – but no matter: the melismatic “gloria” provides suitable euphoria.
14. Good King Wenceslas (1853)
If anything, the hagiography of Good King Wenceslas dials the story down a bit: in some accounts, Saint Wenceslas was out in the snow, barefoot, every night as an act of penance. The tune, a dependable source of bountiful good cheer, repurposes a 13th-century Easter carol.
13. God Rest You Merry, Gentlemen (c1650s)
Regularly incorrectly punctuated – “God rest you merry” is a Shakespearean phrase meaning “God grant you happiness” – and these days performed with two verses excised (they just bang on about shepherds, we’re not missing much), God Rest You Merry, Gentlemen is cheery and induces a warm glow, despite the complaints of an 1820s journalist, who called it “doggerel”. Newspaper critics, eh?
12. We Three Kings (1857)
A winning combination of sombre verses with a big old chorus, and intrigue provided by the arrival in verse four of Balthazar, whose explanation of his gift seems only to make matters worse: “Myrrh is mine, its bitter perfume breathes a life of gathering gloom”. Oh, how lovely and, just out of interest, did you keep the receipt?
11. O Holy Night (1843)
French in origin but big in the US – English language lyrics about slavery were popular with abolitionists – O Holy Night isn’t sung as often as its melody warrants, apparently because it’s too difficult, requiring a wide vocal range. Check out Etta James’s admirably understated version to hear how it should be done.
10. Silent Night (1818)
Silent Night can sound like a dirge, as anyone who has heard it rendered by the year 4 violin group at a school Christmas concert can attest, but there is something beautiful about its images of tranquility, particularly when you know it was written in the aftermath of a war. Sinéad O’Connor’s version peels away the overfamiliarity.
9. Carol of the Bells (1919)
Best known today from the soundtrack of Home Alone, Carol of the Bells hails from Ukraine and the insistence of its four-note ostinato vocal effectively conjures up a sense of anticipation. The most radical modern version is Wynton Marsalis’s jazz take, which swings the melody, making it sound, bizarrely, lubricious.
8. The Holly and the Ivy (c1814)
A traditional English song much older than its first publication date, it is tempting to suggest The Holly and the Ivy is better heard sung by a folk singer than a choir (it has been performed by Eliza Carthy and Steeleye Span among others): they tend to change the rhythm, making it less perky and posh, more frostbitten.