For someone who owes her career to a starmaking TV show, Kelly Clarkson has earned an awful lot of goodwill.
American Idol, of course, is devoted to creating an automaton, a Johnny Bravo-type who fits the jacket. But Clarkson, the showâs first winner, never really played by their rules. She churned out massive hits, of course, but she also delighted us with category-defying records that managed to showcase her tremendous ability to jump genres, to placate her label while retaining her âI do what I wantâ individualism. To put it another way, we all like her. She can make pop for our moms, but itâs the quirky, harder, darker stuff in her catalog that keeps her from embodying the creepy Idol brand. There are an awful lot of punks and headbangers, for example, who keep âSince U Been Goneâ in constant rotation on their iPhones, and thereâs not a soul alive who doesn’t wanna jump around when âI Do Not Hook Upâ or the glorious âMy Life Would Suck Without Youâ light up the room.
So if thereâs anyone who can make a Christmas record with genuine mass appeal, itâs Clarkson. And while Wrapped in Red pretty much plays it safe, she and her producers have made a lot of crafty choices here; itâs no instant classic, but itâs shimmery and accessible enough to find its way onto your holiday playlist and stay there for quite some time.
Clarkson sets some lofty expectations right off the bat. The first two cuts, âWrapped in Redâ and âUnderneath the Treeâ, are unabashedly romantic and drenched in Phil Spector-style production, complete with big drums, tambourines, and castanets. Theyâre also pretty damned good; Clarkson shoots for musical theatre drama and scores. Her everygirl voice is way out front, and we hear every breath and sigh — a tactic that makes her sound both vulnerable and pop-star assured. âUnderneathâ is especially shameless in its Spectorisms, with its honking baritone saxes, church bells, and bits of Wall-of-Sound reverb, but itâs got a great shot at entering the seasonal zeitgeist. It could unseat âAll I Want for Christmas Is Youâ as a shopping mall and holiday party favorite. Letâs just hope Clarkson leaves Justin Bieber out of her video.
Next up is âHave Yourself a Merry Little Christmasâ, and Kelly gives it the Disney treatment, allowing orchestral strings and flourishes to back her warm vocal (she goes with the revisionist âhang a shining starâ lyric â none of this mopey âweâll have to muddle through somehowâ crap on her album). It casts a nice December spell, but it gets a little distracting when she goes for broke in the final verse, indulging in crazy-high soul-girl inversions. Get used to it â itâs a tactic sheâll return to throughout Wrapped in Red, for better or worse.
But then come a few stumbles. Heavily processed drums and plastic guitars drag down âRun Run Rudolphâ. Here was a great excuse to rock out, but even some thoughtful horns canât keep it from sounding like tired karaoke. Clarkson tries to liven up a staid arrangement of âPlease Come Home for Christmasâ with an overly sincere, soulful delivery, but her high-octave belting comes off as show-offy, even if itâll probably slay âem in concert. (It still beats Don Henleyâs grumpy take of the song.) And why she follows that with âEvery Christmasâ, another sad-sack 6/8 ballad, is anyoneâs guess, especially since her lineup of Christmas clichĂ©s (âunder the mistletoe / let it snow / come on home / every Christmas Iâll waitâ) is less than inspired. It still sounds nice, of course — some gospelly background singers and beautifully balanced horns add nuance — but the formula starts to get stale, and we hope she can mix it up a bit in the second half.
Fortunately, she does, going country with âBlue Christmasâ and lounge with âBaby Itâs Cold Outsideâ. âBlueâ is simple and understated, if awfully professional, but âBabyâ is interesting. Ronnie Dunn of Brooks & Dunn plays the Casanova part, but Clarkson is the one way out front, alternately mewling and belting, hitting some alarmingly high notes over Dunnâs gentle country crooning and the Dean Martin arrangement. The effect is odd, even jarring at first, but she effectively takes control of the song and her own destiny, allowing her confident delivery to turn the recent (and rather silly) kerfuffle regarding the coercive lyrics on its head. Itâs not exactly subversive, but itâs fun.
The rest of the set is mostly solid, if disappointingly conservative. Thereâs really only one risk here, and thatâs her cover of Imogen Heapâs âJust for Nowâ. Itâs a fantastic song, mature and self-aware, and Clarkson nails it, but the adult-alternative sound and complex, dysfunctional-family tale may be off-putting to those lulled by the abundance of fireside romance that precedes it. But those folks should like the charming âWinter Dreams (Brandonâs Song)â, which begins suspiciously like Grizzly Bearâs âTwo Weeksâ but blossoms into a heartfelt, joyful ode to holiday love (you can picture the snowflakes on Clarksonâs eyelashes as she sings). The other remaining original, the tongue-in-cheek â4 Caratsâ, attempts to update âSanta Babyâ, but Kelly just sounds too wholesome to effectively play a gold digger. Itâs got a nicely menacing guitar lick and a bouncy melody, but Eartha Kitt can RIP easy.
A torchy, piano-only âWhite Christmasâ, an urgent âMy Favorite Thingsâ, and a Patsy Cline-homage âSilent Nightâ finish the set. Clarksonâs right at home on the first two; sheâs as assured as ever, sophisticated and tender, even if her last-verse stratospheric belting continues to test your tolerance. âSilent Nightâ adds Trisha Yearwood and Reba McEntire into the mix, and while itâs nice to hear the accents fly and the emoting kept under control, they donât distinguish themselves from the 18,000 pop versions of âSilent Nightâ already in the world.
But thatâs okay. Thereâs nothing wrong with keeping the boat steady now and then; everyone in the family will surely hear something they like while trimming the tree, and thatâs rather the point. Maybe Clarksonâs a bit too eager to prove she can still wail out the money notes, and maybe the dearth of edge will disappoint those of us who love âAddictedâ and âHoleâ. But Wrapped in Red doesn’t need edge; itâs just dynamic and varied enough to be satisfying, and itâs light-years better than any of the whitewashed Christmas crap Simon Cowell has inflicted on the world. If Kelly Clarksonâs next album is as mainstream, weâll have cause to worry; until then, light up a fire, snuggle with your loved one, and be grateful for the one good gift American Idol gave us.
Note: There are two additional tracks on the Deluxe Edition, but you’re fine without âem; oneâs an oversung âIâll Be Home for Christmasâ with a nice flugelhorn solo, the otherâs a dark, but perversely short âO Come O Come Emmanuel.â Save your money.