You know the feeling. You’re sitting in a dark theater, or maybe on your sofa with a bowl of popcorn, and those twinkling piano notes start up. Suddenly, Julie Andrews is there, looking all radiant and wholesome, singing about copper kettles and mittens. It’s comforting. It’s cozy. It’s basically the sonic equivalent of a warm hug from your grandmother.
But here’s the thing—most people have the timeline all wrong. And honestly, the song itself is way weirder than we give it credit for. We associate Julie Andrews My Favorite Things with Christmas, childhood innocence, and a sunny Austrian mountainside. In reality? The song was a Broadway duet about a mid-life crisis, it became a Christmas hit because of a marketing gimmick, and the music is technically "darker" than most heavy metal tracks.
Let's break down why this 1959 show tune is still stuck in our heads seven decades later.
The Broadway Version Nobody Remembers
If you grew up watching the 1965 movie, you probably think the song belongs to the kids. You see the von Trapp children shivering under the covers during a thunderstorm, and Maria swoops in to save the day with a jaunty list of her favorite things.
That's not how it started.
In the original 1959 Broadway production, Maria doesn't sing this to the children. She sings it with the Mother Abbess. Yep, the head nun. They’re basically two grown women sitting in an office at the abbey, bonding over their shared love of "sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles" before Maria leaves to become a governess.
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When the filmmakers were prepping the movie, they realized that "The Lonely Goatherd"—which was the thunderstorm song in the play—was a bit too... well, yodelly for a tender bonding moment. They swapped them. It was a genius move. By giving the song to Julie Andrews and the children, they turned a quirky character duet into a universal anthem for conquering fear.
Why is it a Christmas Song, Anyway?
Have you ever actually looked at the lyrics? "Raindrops on roses." "Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings." "Cream colored ponies."
None of that is about Christmas.
Sure, you've got snowflakes and mittens, but you’ve also got "silver white winters that melt into springs." It’s a song about the seasons and general happiness. So why do we hear it on every holiday playlist between Mariah Carey and Bing Crosby?
It all started in 1961. Julie Andrews—who hadn't even been cast in the movie yet—performed the song on The Garry Moore Show for a holiday special. She was just a rising Broadway star at the time, and the performance stuck. Then, in 1964, a crooner named Jack Jones recorded it for a Christmas album. His label wanted a hit to tie into the upcoming movie hype. They added some sleigh bells to the track, and boom: a "Christmas" classic was born.
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By the time the movie hit theaters in April 1965 (which, notably, is not Christmas), the public was already conditioned to think of the song as a winter staple. ABC further cemented this by airing The Sound of Music every December for years. We were essentially marketed into a tradition.
The "Dark" Music Theory Behind the Joy
This is where it gets nerdy. If you listen closely to the melody of Julie Andrews My Favorite Things, it doesn't sound like a typical "happy" song.
Most upbeat musical theater hits are written in a major key. This song? It’s almost entirely in a minor key. Minor keys are usually reserved for sad, spooky, or intense moments. Richard Rodgers was a master of subtext; he wrote a melody that feels slightly anxious because the characters are literally trying to ward off fear.
- The Scale: The line "these are a few of my favorite things" actually uses a Phrygian scale. If you ask a musicologist, they'll tell you that's the "darkest" scale in Western music.
- The Interval: There is a jump in the melody known as a "tritone"—historically called the "Devil's Interval."
- The Resolution: The song only switches to a bright, major key at the very end when she sings "And then I don't feel so bad."
It’s literally a musical representation of anxiety being overcome by hope. That’s why it resonates so deeply. It’s not just "happy-clappy" fluff; it’s a survival tactic.
The John Coltrane Connection
You can’t talk about this song without mentioning the jazz world. In 1961, jazz legend John Coltrane took this simple waltz and turned it into a 14-minute experimental masterpiece.
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Think about that for a second. One of the most avant-garde, "cool" musicians in history heard a song from a musical about a nun and thought, I can work with this. Coltrane’s version became a massive hit in the jazz clubs. It’s fascinating because it shows the song’s bones are incredibly strong. Whether it’s Julie Andrews’ crystal-clear soprano or a screeching saxophone, the structure holds up.
What Most People Get Wrong About the Lyrics
There's a persistent myth that Oscar Hammerstein II wrote the lyrics as a list of his own actual favorite things.
While he certainly loved a good "list song," the lyrics were specifically crafted to feel like the simple, tactile joys of an Austrian girl. However, there’s a bittersweet layer here. This was the last show Rodgers and Hammerstein ever wrote together. Hammerstein was dying of cancer during the production.
When you hear Julie sing about "remembering" things to keep from feeling "bad," it takes on a much heavier meaning. It wasn't just Maria trying to soothe the von Trapp kids; it was a legendary lyricist finding beauty in the world while facing his own end.
Actionable Takeaways for Fans
If you want to experience the song beyond just humming along to the radio, here are a few things you can actually do:
- Listen to the 1959 Cast Recording: Find the version with Mary Martin and Patricia Neway. It sounds completely different—almost like a sacred hymn compared to the movie’s pop-waltz feel.
- Watch the Garry Moore Clip: You can find Julie Andrews' 1961 performance on YouTube. It’s a trip to see her sing it years before she wore the dirndl and short hair.
- Check out the 7 Rings Connection: If you have kids or grandkids, point out that Ariana Grande’s "7 Rings" is almost entirely built on the melody of "My Favorite Things." It’s a great way to show how 1950s Broadway still influences Billboard #1 hits.
- Try the "Maria Method": Next time you’re stressed (or in a literal thunderstorm), try listing specific, physical things you like. There’s actually some psychological truth to the song—grounding yourself in sensory details (like the smell of roses or the feel of wool) is a proven technique to reduce anxiety.
The enduring power of Julie Andrews My Favorite Things isn't just about nostalgia. It’s about the fact that everyone—from a nun in 1930s Austria to a jazz musician in 1960s New York to a stressed-out person in 2026—needs a way to feel a little less "bad" when the dog bites or the bee stings.