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This is my favorite time of year when I get to put on my Santa Shrink hat. That's why I sought out a holiday CD to review. I'm not sure I know the artist well enough to crawl down the chimney of his psyche and tell you what his unconscious mind had in mind when he created Ornaments. Instead, I'll try to dig just deep enough into this musical sack of songs to pull out a few psychological gifts. The greatest of these gifts was discovered within the overall mood and aesthetic texture of the CD as a whole.

As I listened to these songs, I was determined not to miss the forest for the trees (or, in this case, the sparse but otherwise beautiful "ornaments" for the tree). It is an approach my professors called figure and ground when I was studying Gestalt psychology in Santa Shrink school at the bipolar end of the North Pole. This approach helped me to gain an appreciation for the CD that I may not have otherwise gleaned.

Joel Jupp recorded this collection of nine seasonal sensations in a matter of five days and given the quality of the music, this is an amazing feat. These musical "Ornaments," like ornaments on a Christmas tree, have a dreamy, ethereal quality to them. They make 70s two-hit wonder Gary Wright's classic Dream Weaver sound like speed metal on speed. They are also a bit on the dark side---more cause for pensive reflection than wantonly reckless celebration.

Although Christmas kitsch is the prevailing style of Christmas 2002, you won't find anything garish or ostentatious in this collection. This is a decidedly humble offering--minimalist, but not monotonously so, in terms of the arrangement of each song. I especially love "O Come, O Come Emmanuel." Not a ho-hum strum to be found here from the scintillatingly vibrant guitar strumming to the hauntingly hypnotizing vocals, this ornament is unbreakable.

"A Christmas Carol" puts me into a halcyon state of peaceful seasonal slumber. Although I wouldn't recommend it for a severely depressed individual, I would recommend it for those patients of mine who are more high-strung than the popcorn strands on the Christmas tree they couldn't wait to toss out. Furthermore, I recommend it for those of you with a conspicuous proclivity for getting caught up in the most superficial aspects of the holiday hubbub. If the season passed by before you had a chance to savor it, take a few moments to listen to "A Christmas Carol." It will take the humbug out of your insouciant post-holiday shrug. It will allow you to reflect on a Christmas you unwittingly rushed through. It is guaranteed to get the New Year off to an auspicious beginning. I usually despise it when artists change the melody of my favorite Christmas songs. Jupp's haunting rendition of "Silent Night" interrupted this inveterately predictable behavioral pattern of mine. Though the original "Silent Night" ain't broken and don't need fixin', Jupp's reinterpretation is surprisingly engaging and overwhelmingly pleasing to the ear.

The album ends with an introspective, poetically rendered soliloquy on Advent-one that sorts out the gold from all of the glitter that is part and parcel of the commercialization of Christmas. Growing up can have a disillusioning effect on the manner in which we celebrate Christmas, as this song so aptly and cleverly reveals. The song beckons the listener to revisit Christmas through the eyes of a child. After all, children know how to celebrate best, with undiminished dreams of "sugar plums and lollipops" dancing in their heads. Jesus said that the only acceptable way to come to him is as a little child. That's how he came to us. See www.cymbolicsound.com. 

 A holiday CD review by psychologist Dr. Bruce L. Thiessen, a.k.a. Dr. B.L.T., the rock doc, a.k.a. Santa Shrink?