Originally published on metropolis.co.jp on December 2013

It’s early November. You’re out for an evening stroll, reveling in the crisp autumn air. Perhaps you’re in Ginza, window-shopping at the most expensive stores on earth even though you know full well you’ll never be able to afford anything in them. But fall is in the air, and all is right in your world. Then, as it always does, your sense of self-worth gets the better of you and you boldly sweep into one of those exclusive boutiques, intending to slip on a designer jacket just for the hell of it. Then it hits you. Nay—it assaults you. From that speaker on the left—no, the right—no, it’s in surround sound!

“I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus!”

You realize, as you frantically search for your custom fit earplugs, that it’s already too late. The onslaught of Christmas songs (and merchandise, decorations and “Christmas cakes”) has begun—and you are powerless to stop it.

So really, what’s the big deal? Everyone else clearly knows it’s a two-month holiday. What’s your excuse?

I ask myself this question every year, when time-honored chestnuts like “Jingle Bell Rock” drill through my eardrums and nestle in my brain until the ornaments are back in their boxes at day’s end on December 25. The problem: I love what is commonly known as Christmas music. As a professional musician, I probably know more merry melodies than even hardcore aficionados, including many Japanese Xmas tunes, such as Yumi Matsutoya’s upbeat “My Baby Santa Claus,” and Midori Karashima’s sorrowful “Silent Eve.”

What I do not love, however, is having the “sounds of the season” force-fed to me any earlier than necessary. For me, holiday music sets a tone and establishes a mood — one that should be joyous, warm, and centered around family and friends. But the insistent cheeriness or solemn beauty of some Christmas songs played before their time only makes me feel irritated or depressed. More importantly, it highlights a situation that seems absolutely out of sync with what Japan otherwise might offer.

Although starting Christmas in early November (or late October) is not peculiar to Japan, what I find disturbing is that in a country where the people truly love their seasons, celebrating them with foods, festivals, art and more, why would they want to toss November to the crows for the sake of blasting “All I Want For Christmas is You” and putting up a tinseled tree? Why is the beauty of an entire month wiped out so that we can “enjoy” Christmas?

What if, instead, we threw a bit more weight behind “Culture Day” (November 3) or “Labor Thanksgiving Day” (November 23)? What if we took a step back in time and embraced what the Japanese used to call shimotsuki, the “month of frost”? Growing up in sunny Southern California, I never had an appreciation for anything in particular associated with fall or winter. But here in Japan, there’s so much! The wagashi(sweets), shaped and colored to capture the fleeting beauty of the season, the intense dream-like seasonal colors of momiji, the chance to enjoy yakimo from the street vendor who sings his mournful song. All these things are overshadowed by a mad rush to convince everyone that a Western-style Christmas—or a damn good imitation of it—is what the season is about.

I’m sorry—in my book, it is not. While I mulled over this article, I took a walk in my local park and I saw something I had almost forgotten about—a beautiful tree, its autumn leaves still proudly showing their crimsons and golds. A woman stood near it, gently rocking her baby back and forth. A man and his dog observed it silently. Some children gathered the fallen leaves, just to see the colors up close. I, too, stood and had a precious moment with nature, one not hampered by the invasive strains of “Last Christmas” or “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.” I had a chance to reflect on what the season meant to me. And the only sound I heard was the wind as it rustled the leaves. How beautiful it was.