Alan Humm writes:
My friends and I were talking recently about how a cover, judiciously done, can bring out emotions in a song you never knew were there. McCrae does something slightly different. Imagine if you will this familiar McCartney number with all of the joy sucked out of it. McCrae so thoroughly imposes his own mood that what you're left with is more like a cry for help. This is also, I'm almost certain, the only Christmas song where you can hear someone lighting a joint before it starts. For courage, one assumes. Or maybe it's just another sign of the prevailing anomie. Whatever, put McCartney's version out of your head. This is an entirely different species.