All I want for Christmas...is to lean out of the perpetual merriment of seasonal music

Of all the easily marketable Canadian stereotypes to exist (and there are many), I am interested in only one: Canadian musicians boast a beautiful relationship with Christmas albums.

Which, well, obviously. Céline​ Dion, Michael Bublé​, Barenaked Ladies, Sarah McLachlan, Justin Bieber and of course Anne Murray are just a few of the names who've helped uphold the legacy of holiday-inspired Canadiana. (In fact, two of the top ten Canadian albums from 1996 to 2016 are Christmas albums.) But as our relationship to Christmas albums — and albums in general — keeps evolving, the magic of an hour-plus dedicated to covers and new songs sung in the spirit of merriment has begun to fade. A song here or there is wonderful, but as we age out of the wide-eyed belief in the season (not to mention many other things), it gets impossible to lose ourselves in entire albums chock-full of Christmas cheer.

That's not something I'd ever believed possible as a kid (or as a teen — or even as a young adult, if we're being honest). If you grew up in the 1990s and early 2000s, your holiday soundtrack was defined by seasonal anthems performed by Hanson, *NSYNC, Destiny's Child, Mariah Carey, and Christina Aguilera — all of whom released albums dedicated entirely to the holiday. And while Christmas records continue to exist and be released (FYI: Ariana Grande's Christmas Kisses is a work of art and I would absolutely die for Kacey Musgraves's A Very Kacey Christmas), the ones that make an impact are fewer and further between. Which makes sense: somewhere along the line, we all hit a point where we can't bask in the cheer of Christmas for more than a few singles at a time. And to be honest, it's a relief.

The holidays are wonderful, don't get me wrong. As I'm typing this, I'm drinking a seasonal beverage with a clear view of my Christmas tree, and I've already begun having silent panic attacks over what I'm supposed to serve when I host my family for the first time this year. (Spoiler alert: shrimp rings — I will provide only shrimp rings.) In my 33 years, I've had terrible holidays and wonderful ones, and regardless of where the day seems to fall on a scale of happiness and tragedy, no Christmas has been entirely write off-able. But that's the thing about growing up: the more perspective we get, the less we see any holiday in terms of extremes. Because while it might be a great Christmas, there's still usually enough real life to offset the magic that fuels the need for an endless stream of holiday jams. Now, with jobs and bills to pay and flu season, I've come to crave a sprinkling of Christmas over the never-ending buffet of choice. And I've outgrown the naivety required to lose myself in a full holiday album.

A song here or there is wonderful, but as we age out of the wide-eyed belief in the season (not to mention many other things), it gets impossible to lose ourselves in entire albums chock-full of Christmas cheer.- Anne T. Donahue

Or, if I haven't, I just want to return to the albums I associate most with being young and happy and full of hope. (Specifically: the kind of hope that fuelled the dream that my parents would finally take the hint and get me the Gap hoodie I've asked for, again.) I want to cloak myself in nostalgia and give my brain a break from seeking out what's new, exciting or just not Hanson's Snowed In.

Which also works with the way most of us consume music today, anyway — especially since you can't bottle joy via soundtrack, no matter how many times you take Justin Bieber's Under the Mistletoe for a spin. (Or Michael Bublé​, if that's who you're into.)

So as Christmas music continues to play fast and furiously over the next few weeks, I'm ready to lean out of the pressure to indulge in perpetual merriment. Or maybe more specifically, I'm ready to soundtrack the merriment I do feel with more than just an endless loop of Christmas tunes — or new Christmas albums that I feel take away from Mariah Carey's 1994 masterpiece. And instead, I'll focus on albums that played alongside the years that predated real, grown-up life.

I'll listen to *NSYNC and Destiny's Child. I'll shock myself with the number of Canadian artists who, despite bankable careers outside the holiday realm, are synonymous with covers of "Let It Snow!" or "O Holy Night." And I'll listen to them with the fresh ears of an adult who recognizes that recording a full holiday album may not have been an experience defined by the joy of the season. Which is fine, because the best Christmases anyway are the ones that reflect all avenues of being a person — like arriving to a holiday party and making peace with the fact that there seems to only be shrimp rings available.