Before I begin, I’d like to start by pointing out the inherent difficulties of writing about a song whose reputation very nearly precedes it. When the festive classic you’re supposed to be writing about has such an interesting, and quite frankly odd, backstory (in the most ‘Sufjan Stevens’ way possible), it makes things a little bit tricky to write about the song without mentioning its history. So let’s begin with a deep dive into the storied history of “Lonely Man of Winter” in order to fully-appreciate its glory.

Now, “Lonely Man of Winter” is a particularly lovely song, however as I’ve said, it has a most curious history. As far as rarities go, this was, until it’s wider release in 2018, perhaps among the rarest of ‘officially released’ songs, not just confined to Sufjan, but even among popular music as a whole. Back in the simpler, seemingly kinder days of 2007, our boy unveiled the lovingly-kitsch Great Sufjan Song Xmas Xchange in which he asked fans to send him their homemade Christmas songs with the very best one winning the rights to, as it turns out, one of his very best Christmas songs.

Suf’s label, the always-excellent Asthmatic Kitty, put it more succinctly by saying that; “Sufjan’s song becomes your song. You can hoard it for yourself, sell it to a major soft drink corporation, use it in your daughter’s first Christmas video, or share it for free on your website. No one except Sufjan and you will hear his song, unless you decide otherwise”.

And while winning New Yorker Alec Duffy didn’t quite “decide otherwise,” he also kind of did. In an indie puritan ‘that’s a nice idea, but I would actually quite like to hear the song without traveling to New York’ sort of way, he confined “Lonely Man” to rather pleasant listening parties in his Brooklyn apartment. This allowed for pilgrim-like fans to travel out and hear the song in his cozy confines, but only a few at a time, and only at certain times of the year.

As you’d expect, Mr Duffy’s approach prompted disquiet in his labeling as an “indie scrooge” as well as joy in his apparent promotion of “indie rock ideals of community.” While the song’s wider release is a gift in itself, one can’t help but think how great it would be to make the venture to Alec’s New York walk-up, take a comfy seat and listen to three minutes, eleven seconds of sounds comparatively few people have heard before.

But anyway, with the tune’s illustrious history behind us, we now come to the song itself. For some reason, “Lonely Man” has always reminded me of “Romulus,” one of my favorites from the first of Suf’s abandoned fifty states project, Michigan. Both songs conjure up images of distant memories, almost forgotten, and of course, both are invariably sad. As we’d expect from Sufjan at this point, “Lonely Man” is unmistakably sorrowful, perhaps the saddest of his Christmas collection, even the lovely jingle bells, which come in about halfway through, cannot save us from this holiday-related despair.

Though what else should we reasonably expect for Christmas? In spite of its colorful, cozy image, the holiday is often a tragically sad and profoundly difficult time for many of us. The nights draw in, the temperatures drop, and for many people, this can prove to be especially hard.

Today, loneliness is considered to be a chronic issue in our society, and in Leicestershire, England where I live and grew up, and where a bout of bad weather can easily cut off myriad small villages for days on end, loneliness has an easy place to bury its deep roots. This is especially true of the elderly, and my own grandparents for instance, of whom I certainly do not see as much as I like. And this song had me thinking about who our hero may be singing about; perhaps of a fictional man (sorry, kids) who travels the world in one solitary evening, delivering joy down children’s chimneys… alas, could the big man in the red suit be the ultimate lonely man of winter?

Tricky questions aside, in the Bateman household at least, I am fortunate to say that the Yuletide Season has always been enjoyable. To some, being born three days before Christmas would be hell, but as a young(er) man, I never minded it too much. Sure, you had to wait almost an entire year for those presents - admittedly, this was especially annoying when you’re twelve years old and just want that sweet purple GameCube - but to me, it just made my birthday and Christmas that much more special.

These days, my wife and I split our Christmas Day between our respective families. We travel across Leicestershire to my parent’s home for Christmas dinner, always lovingly prepared by my mother. My father will crack open the mulled wine, and my brother will undoubtedly be aching for the moment he can tuck into a Christmas pudding.

Driving cross-country on Christmas Day is a strange experience; the roads are among the loneliest you’ll find with scarcely another car to be seen. So if you’re doing some Christmas traveling this year, you may find time to give “Lonely Man of Winter” a spin or two, when doing so maybe spare a thought for someone lonely in your life and perhaps make those elusive plans to visit them. Honestly, in these days of disposable gifts, that might be the greatest one you give this year.