That’s a little tiny Christmas me to the left of the sister rockin’ the Santa guitar.

I have no idea how old I am here, maybe three or four. I remember that television, and the little wooden wishing well sitting on top of it, too. I don’t have to remember the aluminum tree: My mother gave it to me a few years ago. It’s old and fragile, so I don’t bring it out every year.

If you followed an imaginary line from my stare, you’d run into a moss green velvet couch located beneath a picture window. On Christmas Eve I’d sit on my knees on the couch, elbows on its back, staring into the night sky for a Rudolph sighting who, by the way, was played faithfully each year by a red blinking radio tower in the distance.

But now I’m older, and I’ve heard “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” ten too many times. More than anything I just want this holiday to be over. Something needs to happen to bring back my Christmas mojo,  but nothing seems to be happening spontaneously. Maybe if I force it. Perhaps if I dig through my stacks for some Christmas music I’ll get in the mood.

Is this the definitive Christmas playlist? Absolutely not. The only things tying the following playlist together are: 1) They’re all Christmas songs; 2) I have them all on vinyl.  So what you’re getting here is a holiday peek at my stacks, that’s about it. Merry Christmas.

“Here Comes Santa Claus,” Elvis Presley.

“At the Christmas Ball,” Bessie Smith.

“Merry Christmas,” Plan 9.

“Santa’s Gone Surfin’,” The Malibooz.

“Frosty the Snowman,” The Ronettes.

“I Want A Hippopotamus For Christmas,”  The Three Stooges.

“Do They Know It’s Christmas (Trevor Horn Remix),” Band Aid.

“Will the Coffin Be Your Santa Claus?” Reverend J.M. Gates.