Esquivel: White Christmas
[purchase]
Many folks think of Esquivel as epitomized by a lush form of lounge music. But this something different: a holiday tune on a cocaine binge, tapped out on the edge of a martini glass. Mad bells and tinkly triangle and a never-ending choral crescendo into a world of scat and staccato, creating a manic sort of cheerfulness edged with something desperate. It is, perhaps, the least soothing version of this song ever recorded. The bells just make it worse. Gorgeous, in its way.
