1994: Mariah Carey, Merry Christmas

By Noelle Mateer

In the Christian home where I was raised, I had to ask my Dad for permission to download the clean versions of songs. Swearing was a line we did not cross. I did not hear my own mother cuss until well into my teen years, when we were in a car wreck, and even then it was just: “damn.” My parents were pretty open-minded considering the hardline evangelicalism of their upbringings, but it was a culture we were surrounded by nonetheless. My grandfather was always going on about the “Godly” films he’d watched (Thomas Kinkade biopic: top marks), and I was enough of a dweeb then to believe in it. When my fellow fifth graders sang Nelly’s “Hot in Herre” on the school bus, I covered my ears.

Christian-conservative rules against ‘profanity’ disproportionately condemn black genres. Acoustic guitar music is fine, hip-hop is bad. But Mariah Carey’s Merry Christmas is undeniably Christian. Merry Christmas packs in the hymns: “Silent Night,” “O Holy Night,” “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing,” “Joy to the World.” If you grew up going to church, you knew that the real Christmas songs weren’t “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” or “Winter Wonderland”; the real Christmas songs had Latin phrases and use the word “ye.” Merry Christmas lures you in with the poppy “All I Want For Christmas Is You,” but once you’re in, it’s straight church, much in the same way that youth group leaders trick you into Bible Study with the promise of bowling and free pizza.

I did not listen to Merry Christmas as a child – I was two when it came out, in 1994 – though surely it registered somewhere in my subconscious as it blasted over speakers in the Wal-Marts and shopping malls my mother strollered me through. Rather, I discovered it 2004 as a tween, when I got my first MP3 player and began an iTunes-led musical awakening. It strikes me as ironic that this is same year Kanye rapped on “Jesus Walks”:

They say you can rap about anything except for Jesus

That means guns, sex, lies, videotape

But if I talk about God my record won't get played?

Mariah went ahead and talked about God, and she did get paid. She continues to get paid. Just last year, she released Merry Christmas (Deluxe Anniversary Edition), which features a second album’s worth of bonus tracks and live versions recorded at The Cathedral of St. John The Divine in New York.

I wonder how much my perception of the album’s authenticity relates to its song choice – Mariah’s renditions of what I, as a church kid, considered “real” Christmas music – because Christmas albums are some of the most inauthentic music out there. It’s widely understood that pop stars crank out holiday albums as a cash grab. Unless you’re the Trans-Siberian Orchestra, Christmas is a side project, something you record over a few days in August, and it shows. This is apparent when I look back at the other Christmas albums of that era, many of which were just excuses to pose teen heartthrobs in turtleneck sweaters: *NSYNC’s Home For Christmas, Hanson’s Snowed In. You’d think at least Beyoncé could have made a memorable Christmas album, but Destiny’s Child’s 8 Days of Christmas is largely forgotten. The fact that Mariah put her all in, combined with the fact that her all is superhuman-level talent, makes Merry Christmas likely the sincerest Christmas album in history.

This sincerity is in her vocals. Mariah’s performance makes Merry Christmas not only religious, but spiritual. When I listen to it, I believe in God.

As I brought it with me into my high school years, I was increasingly falling out of love with religion, and my impending breakup with Jesus caused no small amount of anxiety. But at that point there was a new website called YouTube, and it showed me a world of Mariah at her most powerful: live in concert. I used it to watch Mariah performing “O Holy Night,” and watching her sing became a sort of Christianity I could believe in.

Importantly, falling under Mariah’s spell in Merry Christmas made me more open to her other modes: her swagger in The Emancipation of Mimi, her bite in “Obsessed,” Mariah Carey as an empowered sexual being on Caution. I am sure I am not the only one to approach Mariah from the church route. One great thing about church is the amount of built-in music education, and a reverence for the Lord isn’t the only place that journey can lead you to. After all, there’s more to her hymns than religion.

I was reminded of this one afternoon, when “O Holy Night” came on at a crowded cafe in Beijing, a city where most people pay Christmas no mind. My emotional vulnerability suddenly shot through the roof. I have since grown out of my faith, but I felt it then as I inched closer in line to the register, tears rolling down my cheeks by the time it was my turn to order a latte.

Noelle Mateer is a journalist in Pennsylvania. Her work appears in Wired, The Economist, Deadspin and more.