Blindspotting: Mannheim Steamroller, "Christmas"

The Legacy: Decades before digital distribution made it (relatively) easy for a person to make their music available to anyone who might be interested in hearing it, Chip Davis offered a master class in turning your indie niche project into multi-platinum sales. After falling in love with the idea of an "18th century rock band" — i.e. an ensemble performing mostly instrumental tunes in a mostly traditional setting, plus a dash of more modern sounds — Davis found himself unable to land a record deal, so he shrugged and started his own label.

It bears mentioning that Davis was starting from a place of financial security. With his co-writer Bill Fries, he was half of the creative braintrust behind "C.W. McCall," the made-up character who performed the huge hit single "Convoy," so he was flush with mailbox money before he started printing label letterhead. Still, banking his financial security on music so deeply out of step with current trends represented a significant gamble; at the time, few outside the Davis household could have guessed that his freshly minted American Gramaphone imprint would soon be home to a wildly successful indie phenomenon.

I'm talking, of course, about Mannheim Steamroller. (The band name makes more sense than you probably think.) Starting in 1975, the group initially became known for its series of Fresh Aire albums, which was on its fifth installment before Davis decided it was time to really go nuts and release Mannheim Steamroller Christmas in 1984. "This is going to sound dumb, but I wanted to have some good Christmas music around," he told the AP following the album's arrival. "Sometimes I guess you just have to go do it."

Mannheim Steamroller Christmas did indeed go do it, at least if by "go do it" you mean it sold like crazy. It did so well, in fact, that the Davises seemed caught off guard by its success; Davis' wife Carol, who served as VP of American Gramaphone, enthused during the same AP interview that the album was "outselling Pavarotti and the Chipmunks." (These may not seem like particularly noble goals, but when you're running a label out of Omaha in the '80s, you have to take your excitement where you can.)

Christmas didn't just outsell some cartoon rodents and one of the world's foremost opera singers. Holiday music wasn't yet the cottage industry it's become over the last couple of decades, but they did have some stiff competition on the charts — including Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers, not to mention Barbra Streisand, who'd claimed the Christmas music throne years before. The Steamroller's sales were so impressive that the holidays kind of became their jam — as I'm writing this, it looks like these fuckers have cranked out 14 Christmas albums, not including a long list of compilations, PLUS three Chip Davis Christmas albums, PLUS four (four!) Halloween albums.

If I felt like being cynical right now, I might accuse Chip Davis of cashing in, again and again and again, by firing up an assembly line of deeply undemanding music aimed at the most undiscriminating of rubes. But it's December 23 and it's been kind of a rough year and I don't really have the energy to be a dick at the moment, so instead, let's say Chip Davis is a goddamn genius who jammed his finger on the pulse of several generations. We're docking him points for being one of Rush Limbaugh's favorite recording artists, but even still, this guy is living the dream: He founded an empire on his terms, making the art he apparently very much always wanted to make. You could hate on that, but why?

First Impressions: Here's where you're probably expecting me to say "THIS SHIT IS WHY," but come on. Have you listened to a Mannheim Steamroller album? (No judgment if you haven't, of course; I obviously hadn't either.) This record is a glass of warm milk in musical form — it consists of relatively few ingredients, it's utterly inoffensive, and you can't get upset about the experience of consuming it without sounding at least faintly ridiculous. (Notice I said consuming it, not digesting it; I'm not here to minimize the pain of our lactose-intolerant friends.) There's nothing I find particularly exciting about Mannheim Steamroller Christmas, but that isn't the point; this is a record you're supposed to listen to while you do other stuff, like decorate a tree or wrap gifts or bake a ham or get a little too drunk while you look back on your shitshow of a year and stare into the dark outside your living room window.

This kind of music is easy to shit on, and I've certainly shit on it myself plenty of times before, but it's harder to pinpoint why shitting-on is such a popular default response. I mean, what's the issue here? It's pleasant, right? Even if you think it's boring as hell, it's still pleasant. Perfectly pleasant, in fact. If it never surprises or challenges the listener, well, so what? There are lots of reasons that Mannheim Steamroller Christmas has outsold Eazy-E's "Merry Muthafuckin' Xmas" by a wide margin, and one of the easiest to identify is the overwhelming familiarity and comfort that this stuff offers the listener. The touches that sounded modern in 1984 sound fairly cheesy today, but that really only adds to the "traditional" charm; whatever trad vs. modern collision was supposed to inject a small bit of excitement into the Steamroller sound back then has long since collected enough dust to settle fully into the past. Mannheim Steamroller Christmas is non-alcoholic eggnog. It's a reindeer sweater. It's a holiday card from someone you haven't spoken to in 20 years.

You get the idea. Eleven and a half months out of the year, there's no reason to seek this record out, but there's also no reason to get upset about it. Just lie back and let it make you feel good about the holidays, you jerk.

Hidden Gems: I've been fairly complimentary toward Mannheim Steamroller Christmas here, but if I'm being completely honest, I think David Foster's "Carol of the Bells" cover does a better job of injecting vaguely modern drama into a traditional holiday song. That being said, I would be remiss if I didn't share the fact that the 17-year-old believes "God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen (Rock Version)" sounds like a "swashbuckling jungle adventure theme." (He also wants me to stress that this is "not an endorsement.") Happy holidays, everyone!