Wham!'s Last Christmas

I've given myself the task of writing about one song a week for 2024 because, well, I think it'd be fun.

Wham!'s Last Christmas

"Iiiiii...don't want a lot -"

Nah we're not doing that song.

I'm being real: I never get tired of Mariah Carey's "All I Want For Christmas". Whenever I hear it in New York, I get happy. I sing the lyrics and dance. No joke.

But a song like that needs a deep analysis to understand why it's perfect. So I defer to the second best Christmas song ever:

Last Christmas, I gave you my heart, but the very next day, you gave it away. This year, to save me from tears, I'll give it to someone special,

so sings George Michael in the thickest, most flamboyant mullet that looks like a duck on his head. I'm just gonna say it: the shorter Michael's hair was, the hotter he was. We're very glad Michael (I SAY IN JEST) died because if he ever turned bald there would not be a man or woman left in the ensuing bloodbath to touch the top of his head.

OK, let's be real here, are you ready, here is me being real: the chorus for "Last Christmas" is not good. I have historically never liked the chorus for "Last Christmas", which is why I ignored it up until the last few years. I find the lyrics rather precious and melodramatic and, as I usually look at the rhythm of the words alone divorced from the music, I find no rhythm in these lyrics. The major issue is that the singer is telling you how he feels rather than showing it to you; with the last two lines, he does nothing with that hypothetical "someone special" in the rest of the song. The chorus, thus, leads to nowhere, where pop choruses usually act as the audience's exorcism, as the audience's heartbeat, as a sign for the audience to wake up. The chorus is so bad and so bland you can be forgiven for having ignored the song because he sings it fifty, err, six times throughout it.

Instrumentally, too, the song is nothing special. The arrangements consist of a drum machine, a synth, and sleigh bells; the song was recorded in the summer, with George in a cute way decorating the studio in a Christmas theme. Besides the synth, the song is just a plod from beginning to end, with no variation introduced instrumentally throughout the song; the song is well-mannered from verse to chorus back to verse.

"Last Christmas" is the only song I can think of where the verses completely save the song from a bad chorus. The verses are so. Good. Where I said the song has no chorus proper, it doesn't need one because it's a fundamentally melancholy song, and there are no choruses to Morrissey's songs.

Once bitten, and twice shy, I keep my distance, but you still catch my eye. Tell me baby, do you recognize me? Well, it's been a year, it doesn't surprise me.

There are just lines reserved for only some people to sing. "Once bitten and twice shy", no matter how you look at it, is an awkward phrase. "Once" is a long - the tongue moves from the top of the palate to the floor of the mouth. "Bit", the tongue is behind the teeth, "-ten", the tongue moves to the palate again. These quick movements of the tongue mirror the quick movements of the teeth, which is where the biting takes place. The "s" sounds of "twice shy" are great too. But other than that, who says "Once bitten, and twice shy" except without a heavy sense of irony? It's almost too cute an expression to actually sing.

Only George. He takes the tiny bites of "Once bitten" and allows you to remember the agony, he takes the "s" sounds of "twice shy" and reminds you the pain is still there. George somehow puts a halo around that "once bitten", probably getting extra mileage out of the onset "o", so it sounds like he's in awe. "Twice shy", the outset is sung like a whisper, fleeing like he is. Thus, when he sings "I keep my distance, but you still catch my eye", you actually feel it, it's not merely a description, a narration to you.

I am realizing now that George has a special way of singing "s". For him, the sound is a whirl of smoke, is a jet of wind, is, in the Christmas season, a bit of snowy dust. His s's can dazzle you, his s's can overwhelm you, they can powder you like a morning's snow, he uses these s's to slide easily from one idea of a song's to the next. His s's define finesse, define seduction. Those s's pull you in. (While studying this, I went back to "Fastlove, Pt. 1": "I won't bore you with the details, baby, / I don't even want to waste your time, / let's just say maybe / you can help me ease my mind", how many men swooned from these relentless s's?) How many great voices have sang "Last Christmas"? Ariana Grande? Taylor Swift? Only George's version is definitive.

"Tell me baby, do you recognize me?" is such a great line. He sings it so forcefully, so haltingly, after so much doubt demonstrated in the last two lines. Again the "s" sound of the outset of "recognize", he's extending a little hand, a little pull in to his former lover, out of desperation. Then there's the shy, downcast-eyes of "Well, it's been a year, it doesn't surprise me."

This was always Michael's secret sauce, I think, that seemed to get him in bed with so many ladies (and I think some gentlemen, if I recall his account correctly) in the "Wham!" days. It's also, to some extent, Sinatra and Elvis's secret sauce. He's by no means a forceful lover; he's not rushing to draw you in, he's not sticking out his hand in a physical way. Instead he throws out his emotions, willy-nilly, honestly and boldly, enticing you by their strength and absolute devotion to their subject. The melancholy turns chicks on because, on one hand, you share in his pain - who hasn't felt the stings of love before? - and, on the other hand, he's always leaving that door open. Let's compare and contrast with Michael Jackson (it won't be a fair comparison, since the songs compared were from different periods of the artists' lives). So Michael (age 24) says in "P.Y.T. (Pretty Young Thing)", "I want to love you, pretty young thing, / you need some lovin', tender lovin' care", his voice hot with fire, hot with lust, needing to hit the road immediately. In the aforementioned "Fastlove, Pt. 1", George (age 33) sings, "But if you're looking for fast love, / that's love in your eyes", imploring his lover with shy eyes to agree with him. I'm not saying George is the king of consent, it's more, men find different avenues by which to make their lovers agree. George's method of seduction was to convince his partner he was worthy of being an object of adoration. And you know what, it fucking worked.

(I love "Older" (1996), the album "Fastlove, Pt. 1" is from, so much, I'm so disappointed I had no space to write about it.)

"Happy Christmas", I wrapped it up and sent it with a note saying, "I love you", I meant it. Now I know what a fool I've been, but if you kissed me now, I know you'd fool me again.

YOU FEEL SO BAD FOR THE GUY. That whispered "Happy Christmas"? Said with fluttering eyelashes and a glance away? Then the gradual, but noticeable, escalation of tension as he sings "I wrapped it up and sent it", as he painstakingly goes through every action of love that he devoted to the altar, building up relic after relic dedicated to the God of Love, all with him declaring honestly, though it embarrasses him, "a note saying, I love you, I meant it", the pain so palpable in his heart when he says "I meant it" so that it almost needs an exclamation mark? Your heart goes out for the putz! How expertly placed is "it" in the lyrics? They're little footholds for you to climb on his journey of pain; the mention of a "note", so neat, down to the matching "t" sound of "it", is almost comical in how painful it feels.

And with these little expressions of pain, Michael's burst of passion, which is normally reserved for the chorus, is well-deserved for the lines "Now I know what a fool I've been, / but if you kissed me now, I know you'd fool me again", explaining to you, the listener, why he puts himself through so much pain: he's got it really bad.

The second verse:

A crowded room, friends with tired eyes,

OK let's just stop there. I love this line. I have no idea what it means. Some people use the music video as a key, meaning, the Christmas celebrations are going deep into the night, but I see it as the singer empathizing with his friends who, also, have lost or are missing someone that Christmas and are seeking love in another's arms. It's such a good image. Again with those s's, George is almost in tears here, as if he's sharing the pain of the world.

But I digress,

A crowded room, friends with tired eyes, I'm hiding from you and your soul of ice. My god, I thought you were someone to rely on, me? I guess I was a shoulder to cry on.

It's worth pointing out that "crowded" and "hiding" are sung with almost a hush, depicting, verbally, that image of disguise. But the image within that image is that the singer is hiding in that same crowded room, almost like the protagonist of a noir hidden in a room of sadness and misery. It's such a good image of so many contrasts, that of hiding in a party, which reminds one of Joni Mitchell's "laughing and crying, you know they're the same release."

And that "my god, I thought you were someone to rely on" is so explosive, possibly the best moment of the song. The reason why it can be considered the best verse is because it's the conclusion of the singer's arc, coupled with the perfect imagery. Up until this point he is covering the various aspects of his melancholy, focusing first on how the relationship has chilled and his various attempts to kindle it. Now, with that extremely delicious "my god", he has, in the extreme exhaustion of the party, in the wee hours of the night, come to the relevation that he has been used, where before he had been reluctant to admit it. This is by far the most emotional and expressive part of the song, which means it's the favorite of those who love theatre.

So why is this amazingly sad song a staple of Christmas? There is the myth that suicide rates increase during the holidays. I think, as much as we love the holidays - I freaking love the run from Halloween to New Years, personally - we sense there is a darkness hidden behind the sparkling tinsel. We sense the misery and suffering of the past year in the background of the holiday season. And we mull on this darkness, and we rock ourselves to the rhythm of the falling snow, and we find some satisfaction that, perhaps, in the future, in the new year, there indeed is hope.

That is the weird thing about music, about art in general even, about philosophy and life: absence demonstrates presence. That it is not, means I know what it can be. Light and darkness match one another so well, hope and despair on the same footing. So when we're sad singing "Last Christmas", we're secretly wishing to ourselves that there are better days ahead, and that it's okay to be a bleeding heart in this day and age; it means you're human.