As we prepare to celebrate another holiday season, this week I wanted to give flowers to Stephanie Mills for Second Listen Sunday.
By 1991, Stephanie Mills had nothing left to prove vocally. She had already carved out her legacy—firing up Broadway, heating R&B, and showcasing one of the most distinctive and emotional voices in Black music. So when she released her Christmas album, it wasn’t an attempt to chase trends or cash in on holiday nostalgia. Instead, it feels like a singer communicating the season in her own language: soul, gospel, warmth, and intention.
Everyone remembers the classic songs on this album because Mills makes them worth remembering. However, what often goes overlooked is that Christmas contains original material that reveals why Stephanie Mills is more than just a great vocalist; she’s also a storyteller.
The album sets its tone with familiar songs delivered with a mature steadiness. Her rendition of “This Christmas” comes with confidence—not trying to replicate Donny Hathaway’s version but honoring the melody with that unmistakable Stephanie tremor.
“Silent Night” and “The Christmas Song” showcase her discipline; she never forces a vocal run or overshadows the lyrics. It’s the sound of someone who understands that stillness can be just as powerful as belting.
However the standouts are the original songs from the album. The standout track, “It’s Gonna Be a Cold, Cold Winter,” suits Mills’ emotional range with its bittersweet, mature, and reflective tone. It captures the loneliness of the holiday season in a way that gives dignity to heartache.
Another notable song is “Sometimes It’s Christmas,” a mid-tempo track that blends her gospel roots with R&B. It feels like a warm embrace from a friend, illustrating the album’s emotional palette that includes both joy and grace.
While other original tracks serve as soft, reflective mood pieces, these two define the album’s identity and set it apart from early ’90s holiday releases, with the classics keeping listeners engaged and the originals expressing the album’s purpose.
Is everything perfect? No. The early ’90s production occasionally dates the album through certain keyboard textures and drum-machine choices. However, Mills’ voice cuts through the production, reclaiming the spotlight. A lesser singer might get lost in the gloss, but Mills makes it part of the atmosphere.
What makes *Christmas* endure is its genuine honesty. Mills doesn’t try to outshine the season or reinvent “Silent Night.” Instead, she creates an intimate holiday experience—warm, spiritual, slightly romantic, and sometimes tinged with heartbreak.
More than 30 years later, *Christmas* remains a hidden classic that rewards those willing to immerse themselves in it. The familiar songs are lovely, but it’s the originals where Mills leaves her mark.
That’s why this album deserves to be played every holiday season.
Final Grade: B
“Christmas” is available on all streaming platforms.
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