By Sean Daly

Jewish and "Jingle Bells" don’t mix. Every time a pop star with Judeo-Christian claims has dared go "dashing through the snow," the results have been disastrous. Take Barbra Streisand, for instance, whose frantic 1967 version, "Jingle Bells?" sounds like it was recorded in a meth lab. What’s the rush, Babs? And what’s with that question mark? Are those rhetorical bells? Barry Manilow decided "Jingle Bells" would make a great duet—unfortunately, in 1990, he chose milquetoast R&B group Expose to ride along on his ho-hum open sleigh. Sheesh: The Donner party had a better time in the snow. Should he ever decide to get his bobtail bells in order, David Lee Roth might be the lone Chosen One twisted enough to nail that sleighing song.

That said, "Jingle Bells" is about the only fa-la-la fave in the Christmas canon that Jewish artists have yet to do better than anyone else. Let’s face it: Christmas music—from the religious to the reindeer—would be flat-out feh without a whole lot of help from Hebrew nation. After all, the very best Christmas tunes were written by members of the tribe. Irving Berlin whipped up "White Christmas," Mel Tormé concocted "The Christmas Song," and Jerry Herman decided "We Need a Little Christmas." Want more? Sammy Cahn decided to "Let It Snow," Joan Javits sexed it up with "Santa Baby," and Al Stillman got all schmaltzy for "There’s No Place Like Home for the Holidays." What’s left? The Heat Miser song?

Talk about kicking Bing Crosby when he’s dead: Waltz your roasted chestnuts into any music store at the Yule end of the year, and you’ll be bombarded with Jewish artists dominating the bins. Some stars have even issued multiple holiday discs: Streisand has two (1967’s A Christmas Album and 2001’s Christmas Memories), Manilow has two (1990’s Because It’s Christmas and 2002’s A Christmas Gift of Love), and Kenny G has three (1994’s Miracles, 1999’s Faith, and 2002’s Wishes). Such Jewish pop icons as Carole King ("Love for Christmas"), Beck ("Little Drum Machine Boy"), and Simon & Garfunkel ("Star Carol") have all recorded Christmas singles. Oh, and don’t forget the Ramones’ "Merry Christmas (I Don’t Want to Fight)." That one rocks.

Why Jewish musicians have such a thing for Santa-appropriate songs is open for debate—and maybe a bit of eye-rolling from the more cynical. The artists usually strive for one of two PC approaches—the silly Christmas party or the warm-n-fuzzy Christmas spirit—managing to avoid stirring up religious brouhahas at all costs. But who cares: The more the merrier the Christmas, right? Right. So, to experience a full and festive Very Jewish Christmas, check out eight of the most popular Christmas albums on the market—recorded by people who should do the world a favor and whip up a decent Chanukah hit. Jewish or not, Adam Sandler must be stopped.

(Albums rated by a strict system of best-out-of-five nondenominational wreaths.)

A Christmas Gift for You Phil Spector Phil Spector Records

Jewish? Who cares! Gun-wielding psychopath? Bah humbug! Phil Spector decks the Wall of Sound with boughs of holly on arguably the greatest holiday album of all time. (Consumer alert: Charles Brown’s "Cool Christmas Blues" is an absolute must, as well—but he’s a bluesman, not a Jewish man.) Staying away from the real Baby Jesus-y stuff, the eccentric producer with the disturbing hair enlists such groovy talents as Darlene Love ("White Christmas"), Bob B. Soxx and the Blue Jeans ("Here Comes Santa Claus"), and the Crystals ("Santa Claus Is Coming to Town") on this 1967 gem that manages to makes the mad month of December less hellish. It’s really that good. The girl-group harmonizing is instantly uplifting, and the signature layers of rumbling rat-a-tat drums will make you grin like a fool, with or without the benefit of spiked eggnog. The best track is the Ronettes’ "Frosty the Snowman," which has a supersexy "Be Me Baby" vibe. Merry XXX-mas, indeed. FIVE WREATHS

Miracles: The Holiday Album Kenny G Arista

Real name: Ken Gorelick. Real sales of this 1994 album: More than eight million, making it the largest-selling seasonal disc of all time. That’s right: Whether there’s a menorah or a blue spruce lighting up your big bay window, chances are you probably have a copy of Mr. G’s Miracles hidden somewhere in your home. And yes, you should be ashamed. Whether blowing on Hallmark-lame versions of "Silent Night," "Little Drummer Boy," or "Away in a Manger," the unstoppable G-force’s saxophone induces chills—and not the good kind. More like the frostbite kind. Should he get points for including the self-penned "The Chanukah Song"? No. This wheezy cut sounds like a lazy outtake from Fiddler on the Roof. Miracles is the kind of sugar-plum-dipped elevator music that makes more people take the stairs. ONE WREATH

The Christmas Album Neil Diamond Columbia

Neil Diamond is the William Shatner of soft rock. And that’s a compliment. Whether it’s a hot August night or a snowy Christmas Eve, Diamond remains a delightfully cheesy force to be reckoned with, over-emoting like only he can, no matter what the tune. In fact, with the exception of that creepy E.T. song, he’s rarely made an unfailingly earnest misstep, and this 1992 disc is no exception. He gives the religious cuts and the sillier stuff equal over-the-top reverence. The opener, "O Come, O Come Emmanuel/We Three Kings of Orient Are" has a sweet, well-meaning, can’t-we-all-just-get-along vibe. The L.A. Mass Choir joins the Jazz Singer for a rousing "Silent Night" that’s powerful enough to knock the tinsel from the tree. And his "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town" is given the same hands-to-heaven tent-revival gusto as his hippier hits from his dirty-denim days—heck, there’s even a bluesy harmonica solo! Kitschy and flat-out fun, this is a must for the collection and should be spun liberally when that holiday party is losing steam. Diamond is the man. FOUR WREATHS

Christmas Is Almost Here Carly Simon Rhino

After reading the epic liner notes about how much she loves Christmas songs—"I want to hear them while I cook, sew, decorate trees, and laugh or cry. While I dance and drink and eat warm apple torte..."—one has to wonder: Carly Simon sews? Backed by some all-star support (Burt Bacharach, Willie Nelson, Heartbreaker Benmont Tench, drummer Jim Keltner), Simon is all about the "Christmas message" on this 2002 effort, overlooking the religious complications in lieu of universal togetherness. Or something like that. Despite being produced by pop-schlockmeister Don Was, this is a predominantly stripped-down, rootsy affair and a rather likable one at that. Simon can still sing like a slightly stoned mockingbird, and her "White Christmas" is a keeper. Sister Lucy’s treacly "Heaven" probably should have been kept within the cozy confines of Simon family gatherings, but as hirsute rocker Billy Squier—hey, is he Jewish?—once put it so eloquently, "Christmas is the time to say I love you." THREE WREATHS

Christmas Memories Barbra Streisand Columbia

Much better than her first Christmas album—if only because that oddly punctuated "Jingle Bells?" is nowhere to be found—this 2001 Babs-sized effort is draped in a diva-appropriate gauze worthy of that one-of-a-kind Voice. "Let’s come together and listen to the music," proclaims the liner notes. Indeed: After listening to golden-throated renditions of "I’ll Be Home for Christmas" and "Ave Maria," you gotta believe a whole lotta yuppie kids have been conceived to this one. Lavishly produced with a grand cinematic sheen, the vocalist and her approximately 1,000-piece orchestra are in lush harmony, torching up every one of the millions of dollars spent on making sure this one glows like an open fire. You know what you’re getting with a Streisand album—and she almost always delivers. And far be it from Babs to only sing the love songs to hubby Big Jim Brolin: The closing track, "One God," aims to bring all of us that much closer: "Many the ways all of us pray to one God / Many the paths winding their way to One God / Brothers and sisters...there were no strangers / After his work was done." Great, now I feel guilty for slamming Kenny G. FOUR WREATHS

Because It’s Christmas Barry Manilow Arista

Although he writes the songs that make whole world sing, Barry Manilow has remained a bit of mystery over the years. Mr. Mandy’s an intensely private guy, and his religious affiliation has remained just as vague as who he dates, where he lives, and why "Copacabana" still makes my fat butt get up and dance. He’s simply Barry the balladeer, the modest king of cornball make-out music. And we love him for it. Not surprisingly, 1990’s "Because It’s Christmas," with the exception of that stinky version of "Jingle Bells," is intended to do nothing more than score you a little First Noel nookie. It’s certainly not his best work, but it’s not a disaster, either. Check out "Baby, It’s Cold Outside," a duet with K.T. Oslin; their sexually awkward flirting at the beginning is worth the price of the album. And there’s a very good chance his closing "It’s Just Another New Year’s Eve" just might make a few young girls cry. TWO WREATHS

This Is the Time: The Christmas Album Michael Bolton Columbia

Although it’s possible that no house of worship would ever want to claim him as their own, Michael Bolton is, in fact, Jewish. And yes, taking shots at Mr. Big Blond Mullet is way too easy—so let’s do it! Bolton is so overtly breathy on this 1996 dud, whether sucking wind on "Silent Night" or exhaling hard on "Joy to the World," he sounds like he needs a respirator. Never one for subtlety, the oh-so-serious singer fires up the vocal histrionics on all 10 mind-numbing cuts, sounding at time likes marble-mouthed Sly Stallone in full-grunt Rocky mode. With so many of your obnoxious, bad-tempered relatives visiting for the holidays, do you really need one more loudmouth in your home? The best song is "Ave Maria," but only because Bolton allows guest vocalist Placido Domingo to go first. The towering tenor brings the house down, of course—and leaves Bolton looking silly in the rubble. ONE WREATH

Christmas With the Rat Pack Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr. Capitol

It figures the Catholics would get all the good stuff on this 2002 compilation. Frank nails "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear," Dino charms with "Winter Wonderland," and what does proud member of the tribe Sammy Davis Jr. get stuck with? "Jingle Bells." Oh well. Not the the lil’ Nixon-hugger’s best showing—in fact, the Candy Man’s bells seem to be dipped in the same pick-me-up juice that inspired Streisand’s spastic take. You might as well put a question mark at the end of this one, too. But hey: You gotta love Sammy anyway, and he redeems himself with a thoroughly Vegas-style "Christmas Song." These three wiseacres sound like they’re having a blast, and you just know there was an open bar present at every session. Underneath all the cigarette smoke and generously applied cologne, there’s a message lurking, too: Christmas is such a swinging shindig, everyone should join the bash. Whether you’re Jewish, Catholic—or heck, even Kenny G. TWO WREATHS

Sean Daly is a broadcast journalist at ABC Action News in Tampa and a former pop-music critic for the Tampa Bay Times.