The older I get, the more open-minded about music I become. While a younger version of myself was happy to write off whole genres on principle, I've mellowed recently to the point that I'm willing to give a lot of different sounds a chance. My capacity for flimsy pop music has gone through the roof compared to where it once was and I've come to appreciate styles like hip hop that essentially just passed me by in my formative years. Still, there are some kinds of music I just can't abide. High on that list are the standards of the holiday season. Later this week I'll take some time to highlight some of the exceptions to this rule, but for today it's all about justifying the disapproval.

First off, I'm fairly certain that a big part of the appeal of Christmas music is that it tickles all the right nostalgia nerves in people who enjoy it. I get that and I think a connection to one's past is a good enough reason to enjoy music without shame. To that end, Christmas music just isn't part of my childhood tapestry. Maybe that's because mine was the only Jewish family in several square miles, or maybe I just never developed an appreciation for the tunes. After all, my mother was raised Catholic and there is no human being currently walking this world who loves holidays more than my dear mom. Even after converting, she never really gave up the innocent joy of songs about snow and cookies and whatever else Christmas music is supposed to be about. And anyway, I wasn't really resentful of the lack of Christmas in my life. I liked that weird stop-motion Rudolph movie just as much as the next kid.

I think the core of my distaste for Christmas music comes from the sheer repetition of it all. Christmas music never really evolves. Instead of a widespread embrace of the inevitable new Christmas-themed music of the year, our whole culture clings to a short list of old standards, none of which can really be called the best songs of their era. Take "The Christmas Song" aka "Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire", a sleepy little tune written by Mel Torme and Bob Wells in 1944. Of all the late jazz era songs, it's hard to love this particular track based on its own merits. No matter who covers it, it's slow, gratingly sentimental and almost too easy a hit, like trying to add class to your cheap suit with a grocery store boutonniere.

The most egregious Christmas song ever recorded, without a doubt, is "Jingle Bell Rock", a cloying, nonsensical tune that Bobby Helms unleashed upon the world in 1957. It's no surprise that the song turned out how it did, considering that it was penned by the unholy union of Public Relations executive Joe Beal and his corporate advertising buddy Jim Boothe. It's not so much an early rock track as a woefully synthetic hijack of what was otherwise the most exciting thing to happen to music since the invention of blues. For the life of me, I can't figure out what the hell a "jingle horse" is and why it has feet instead of hooves, or for that matter why the term "jingle" is attached to every other word in the song. What's worse, "Jingle Bell Rock" may just rock the least of any song ever recorded.

The last straw for me concerning Christmas music was my first job after college. Hitting hard times in our nation's economy, I had to make ends meet stocking shelves at a grocery store in December and January. Despite the fact that shelves are stocked in the wee hours of the morning when effectively no customers come through, the store's muzak still played, commercial and all. For the better part of my stretch at the store, I had to listen to the same six Christmas songs on a loop. That's enough to sour a guy on festive recordings for the rest of his life.

I'm not a Grinch when it comes to the holiday season. I can enjoy the cheer, the baked goods and even some of the consumer frenzy. But the music and I are just going to have to stay in our respective corners.