Tim: Off the top of your head: most miserable Christmas song?
Tom: I lost the damn Get Through December Without Hearing That Goddamn Pogues Song challenge last week, so I’m going to go with that.
Tim: I’m still successful in that, actually, but you’re wrong. It’s this.
Tim: Well, I say that, and it’s kind of true – it starts off with a gunshot, the voice begins almost inviting you to tie yourself a noose with its tone, the music has you searching Google Earth for your nearest tall building and the lyrics are just the sort of thing to make you reach for your nearest bumper pack of paracetamol.
Tim: Well, if you’ll LET ME FINISH, I’ll actually agree with that. Because despite the fact that ninety seconds in (and despite a brief respite in the chorus), I’m pretty much reaching for the petrol canister—
Tom: Well, if the album is called “Hymns for the Haunted”, I can understand it. In fact, I’m going to go so far as to say: I really like it.
Tim: EXCUSE ME, STILL TALKING. DESPITE THAT (and now I’ve pretty much run out of ways to squeeze in any more suicide methods), fifteen seconds later, it develops. The backing choir re-emerges, the voice becomes more melodic and it actually becomes vaguely manageable. Later still, the guitar joins in, and it’s almost downright pleasant. Except for the fact that her pronunciation keeps making me think she’s singing about Chris Moyles.
Tom: Chris…mas… Moyles. Oh, come on. That’s ruined the song for me now.
Tim: OH WELL.