HO HO WHO: A helium-voiced synth-pop outsider with a remarkably well-footnoted Wikipedia page.

THE GIFT THAT KEEPS ON GIVING: Y'know how the American spirit encourages creativity, spontaneity and individualism? Well, sometimes those conditions foster genius. And sometimes we get a UFO Phil.

TRANQUILITY DEBASED: The core narrative of "Christmas on the Moon" is that Neil Armstrong crushed a tiny civilization of moon people with his first step onto the lunar surface. There are many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many holes in this story, even if Phil intends it to be a casual parable and not an airtight* work of fiction. In the end, he only has enough time to address a single inconsistency. According to Phil, although the first moon landing was in July of 1969, the moon people actually were celebrating Christmas then because of the "time difference" between the earth and the moon. Put that in your Carl Sagan bong and smoke it, kids!

CHEER FACTOR: 3/10. Rush should totally cover this song. Rush should cover every UFO Phil song.

* SPACE-TRAVEL PUN!

HO-HO-WHO: Scott Weiland has been a staple of modern rock radio for the better part of two decades, first with Stone Temple Pilots and then in the Slash-aided supergroup Velvet Revolver. In a move both baffling and easily rationalized (“Bowie did it, man”), Weiland has become the latest grunge-era crooner to try his hand at an adult contemporary crossover, this time through holiday standards. Could Gavin Rossdale performing the American Songbook be far off?

SEX(-MAS) TYPE THING: '90s Alternative rock lacked a strong holiday-themed soundtrack, something Weiland rectifies on The Most Wonderful Time of the Year, a 10-song collection of swingin' Christmas classics. One can only imagine how the late Kurt Cobain would have gotten a piece of the action had he hit middle age. Sadly, the world will never hear Nirvana’s Santa-themed single “Wrap Me.” It should be noted that Weiland's pruned face is far more terrifying than the talking snowman referenced in "Winter Wonderland."

BIG EMPTY: This album is presumably the result of Weiland needing to shore up quick cash for some over-the-top rock star bullshit like, say, a Nicolas Cage-like private island. Even still, one wonders why Weiland's handlers—of whom we can assume there are many—didn't try to talk some sense into him before this was thrust into a public forum. The sparse arrangements reveal a voice, without the benefit of a megaphone, that is croaky when not completely off-key. Musical masochists in the D.C. area can catch Weiland perform his yuletide spectacular at the 9:30 Club on Monday, Dec. 19. Tickets, if you can believe it, are still available.

CHEER FACTOR: 0.01/10. This might be the most elaborate and depressing Dancing with the Stars audition tape ever created.

HO HO WHO: "The Little Drummer Boy," in its purest iteration, is a song about a young man who, at the urging of the Magi, offers his dope beats to the baby Jesus. Replace the Magi with Usher and the baby Jesus with the Internet and you have a pretty accurate representation of why culture wars are fought.

POOR-ASS BOY HONORING JESUS: The Busta Rhymes verse nestled in the center of the track is actually kind of fierce. In a stunning bit of meta-narrative, the entire verse is about Bieber sending him a Twitter message about collaborating on a Christmas song, delivered all ratatat-like. Also, Rhymes bellowing "BIEBER, WHAT UP" would make a swell notification noise for when someone you hate text messages you.

RICH-ASS BOY HONORING USHER: Bieber's nasal delivery of the non-rap verses is unremarkable at best, and he makes that last "pum" in "pa-rump-pa-pum-pum" about seventeen syllables long on several occasions. He also raps about, among other things, God, basketball, and Michael Jackson. (The original Holy Trinity?) The last verse tacks on a message of charitable giving, but by then you'll feel that actually listening to the song in its entirety should be tax-deductible. Remember how in The Princess Bride, Wesley builds up an immunity to iocane powder? If you have tweens in your life this Christmas, you may as well listen to this song over and over again until it doesn't make you feel like a Grinch with Tourette Syndrome.

CHEER FACTOR: 1/10. Laugh at the Busta Rhymes verse, then never listen to this song again. Unless you have to write about it for the Internet.

HO HO WHO: Some of the most highly regarded smart guys in D.C.'s indie-pop underground, The Caribbean. "What Child Is This" is their contribution to the never ending beginning, the free 2011 Christmas compilation by their label, Hometapes.

WHAT THE HELL IS THAT? Why, it's a complete reworking of the beloved 19th century English hymn by William Chatterton Dix. The Caribbean chops out several chunks of Dix's original text and nixes the original "Greensleeves" melody. But there's still plenty of reverence in the mix: Matthew Byars' monotone vocals are almost meditative, and the music—a repetitive acoustic-guitar riff, some abstract percussion, a few well-placed vocal overdubs—is sneakily majestic.

EASTBOUND AND DOWN: This ain't the spear-pierced Christ or the King of Kings enthroned; it's a fragile newborn in a dusty, cold, windswept Middle Eastern manger. Some long nights are ahead—as well as two millennia of cultural ascendancy on earth, filtered through the flaws of mankind. Maybe that's why it sounds a little ominous, too?

CHEER FACTOR: 8/10. The best "What Child Is This" remake since the one by The Wonderful World of Joey.

The Caribbean, "What Child Is This?"

Ho Ho Who: It's Otis Redding. If you don't know who he is, you're probably just reading a blog post about pop music because you're getting paid to leave a spammy link in the comments. Released in 1968, the year after Redding died in a plane crash, this Christmas covers single never charted. But it should have.

May Your Days Be Merry: Around this time of year, merely turning on the radio (except maybe to listen to NPR or WTOP) carries some danger of accidental exposure to Christmas music, most of which is loathsome. That adjective applies to the Bing Crosby original that Redding covers on the A-side of this single, too. But the King of Soul can't be brought down by Irving Berlin's treacly lyrics! He can barely even keep the tempo of the song from breaking loose of ballad territory.

Feel Like I'm in Paradise: The B-side doesn't even sound like holiday music at all, except for some jingle bells in the background that you can easily pretend are just the work of an overzealous tambourine player in the Stax studios. It's the best of all seasonal songs—people who like Christmas music will be happy with the constant "Merry Christmas"-ing in the refrain, and people with good taste will be happy because it's Otis Redding. The 1947 original, by songwriter Johnny Moore's Three Trailblazers (featuring Charles Brown) is worth a listen, too.

Cheer Factor: 9/10. Only the sad fact that this was a posthumous release puts a perfect score out of reach.

Listen: Otis Redding, "White Christmas"

Otis Redding, "Merry Christmas Baby"

HO HO WHO: She: doe-eyed manic pixie dream girl whose new Fox sitcom re-ushered "adorkable" into the cultural lexicon. Him: earnest singer-songwriter on Merge Records whose lo-fi ditties double as car-advertisement jingles. Together, they are She & Him, whose new album, A Very She & Him Christmas, is guaranteed to soundtrack every ugly Christmas sweater party of 2011.

PRO-PRO-NOUNS: A Very She & Him Christmas, now available at your local Starbucks (no, that's not a dig), is a carefully constructed collection of holiday favorites by "indie" rock's most competent pop fetishists. If anyone could pull off a straight-faced homage to the golden age of Bing Crosby and Perry Como, it would be them.  Also, a portion of the proceeds from the album will be donated to the very worthy 826 organization.

NO-NO-JOY: From the unbearably affected album cover (The pompadour is not a good look for you, M.) to its snoozy tracklist, A Very She & Him Christmas is a mirthless experiment in swaying to the oldies. On “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree,” Ms. Deschanel's husky, monotone delivery smothers an otherwise enjoyable standard. Check out She & Him's performance on the Ellen Degeneres show below for a wide-eyed, Stepford-like performance in which no one smiles for the first two minutes. Happy Holidays?

CHEER FACTOR: 3/10. The world already has one mournful Christmas album. Not sure we need another.

HO HO WHO: Two kids from Florida who might be the manifest destiny of the Disney-fication of America. D.J. Monopoli is the guy. Sabrina Abu-Obeid is the girl. Together they are TeraBrite. They desperately want to entertain you. If emo isn't already dead, they're going to smother it in hugs. That's right, emo's last breath will be a squishy, muted sigh. It's so perfect, you guys.

HEDGING THEIR BETS: Just in case you think "Epic Christmas" kinda sucks—and you probably do, unless you're a really sheltered 8-year-old girl—they perform 25 seconds of "Jingle Bells" in the middle, so you can hate that instead. A commenter on YouTube was all like, "you guys basically stole the whole "jingle bells" song ... you can be sued" but then TeraBrite was all like, "Jingle Bells as well as all of the classic Christmas song melodies played in the solo at the end are all in the public domain." And then I was like, "Oh my gosh, you guys, TeraBrite is totally well-versed in copyright law."

SELLOUT SUCKAS: TeraBrite seems to exist only on YouTube, and its business plan seems to be, "Let's enter every song contest, ever." So they've made songs for Kia and Doritos and Conan O'Brien and lots of other stuff. They won the Conan contest with this. So let's take this ethos to its logical extreme: Let's say "Epic Christmas" is a commercial for Christmas. This is what you'd think about Christmas after seeing it: Christmas is kind of like prom, except your house gets dressed up in tacky stuff, not your body. There are craft projects in case people don't like to dance. And then there's a weird kiss at the end.

I dunno, you guys, Christmas looks like it kinda sucks.

CHEER FACTOR: 5/10. We're gonna hedge our own bets and give them 5 points just in case there's something totally meta about all of this.