Covered is a feature where we examine the merits of various cover songs, debating whether or not they capture the spirit and intent of the original, if the cover adds anything new, and whether or not it perhaps surpasses the original. If we fail on those counts, at the very least we may expose you to different versions of great songs you hadn’t heard before.
Pulp never achieved the same success stateside as it did in its native UK, but if Americans ever heard one of their songs it was probably their classic “Common People”. The reputation of the song has grown over the years, and is considered by many to be the shining moment of the Britpop era. It’s a fantastically fun song, a synth-heavy dance rave-up in a scene fueled by guitar-driven rock. It’s also a masterwork in perfecting the “build”, morphing from a sly and mysterious beginning into an explosive, anthemic second half. It’s also the perfect showcase for vocalist’s Jarvis Cocker’s smart and sarcastic persona, as he incisively tears into “class tourism”–a topic that bears increased relevance today, as any article on an area facing the pressures of gentrification would show. As Jarvis points out, while most people who live in the slum-like conditions are forced to do so by circumstance, the woman in the song can easily escape with a simple phone call to Dad.
If people were asked to name someone who could successfully pull off a great cover song, William Shatner would have to rank near the bottom of the list. To be fair, there’s a perfectly good reason for this. But all due credit to producer Ben Folds, who found an excellent complement for Shatner’s unique…”singing” style. Shatner’s dramatic talk-singing is the perfect vehicle for the trenchant social commentary inherent in the lyrics, and he’s able to draw out every bit of sardonic humor and bitter sarcasm with each line that he can. Even his unusual pauses help provide the right amount of emphasis with each verbal attack. As for the music, keyboards are traded for guitars in this version, and they do a great job of driving the song and providing an extra bit of edge while still allowing for the natural beat to push through. In the end, you’re still rocking out and dancing, all the while smiling at the humor of the lyrics as you sing along.
Spoon fans had been waiting for years for a follow-up to Transference, eager to see if they could continue an unprecedented hot streak of excellent albums, and they finally got a clue this week that the wait may soon be over. The cover photo of their Facebook page was updated yesterday with the cryptic message “SPOON R.I.P. JUNE 10”, indicating that something will be released in less than two weeks, whether it be a single or an entire album. The announcement of a new album is not surprising, considering the band had announced tour dates beginning this summer, though the sudden timing sure is. Considering I am one of the fans that I mentioned above, this is exciting news indeed.
With that in mind, I thought it was an excellent time to shine the spotlight on Spoon for our “Covered” feature. One of my all-time favorite songs, “Me and the Bean” from the brilliant Girls Can Tell is actually a cover, though I’ve had trouble tracking down the original over the years since Sidehackers were a small local band. Spoon has also been known to do a ripping version of the Rolling Stones’ gem “Rocks Off”, but for tonight it only gets a secondary mention.
I’m highlighting Spoon’s cover of Wolf Parade’s “Modern World” because it’s always great to see one great indie band recognize the talent of another great indie band. “Modern World” tends to get lost in the shuffle when discussing Apologies to the Queen Mary, especially considering the apex of the “Shine A Light”-“Dear Sons and Daughters of Hungry Ghosts”-“I’ll Believe in Anything” triumvirate, so for Spoon to choose the song indicates that they had more than a passing familiarity with Wolf Parade, and that they were actually fans. I’ll also remember that in one of their first performances of the cover on that particular tour (if not for the first performance) they had Dan Boeckner from Wolf Parade join Spoon for the cover, and I was just a few blocks away missing out (it’s ok, I saw Spoon later on during the tour, it all worked out). As for the technical part of the actual cover, it’s faithful to the original, and it’s amazing how easily the song fits into the Spoon oeuvre; there are subtle touches specific to Spoon that are clearer after multiple listens (most notably, the simple drum beat accented by a shaker (similar to the one used for “Don’t You Evah”) and the little guitar lead that Britt uses to end the song), but otherwise it’s fairly similar to the Wolf Parade version.
“Modern World” was an excellent complement to Apologies‘ opener “You Are A Runner And I Am My Father’s Son”, setting up the dichotomy of the Dan Boeckner/Spencer Krug relationship (Dan sings “Modern World”, Spencer sings “Runner”). It has a stripped-down sound especially compared to “Runner”, utilizing slightly twangy acoustic guitars instead of gaudy synths, though when the keyboard enters the song it’s for a distinctive and memorable solo. The persistent driving beat of the song matches the depressingly cynical take on modern life (“Modern World, don’t ask why, cause Modern World, we build things high”,”Modern World, I’m not pleased to meet you; you just bring me down.”). There’s really no other song on the album that matches its withdrawn mood, which helps it stand out.
Perhaps the most interesting thing about the cover is that it lead to a musical collaboration between Britt Daniel from Spoon and Dan, a new group called Divine Fits. The album that they created A Thing Called Divine Fits provided an intriguing amalgamation of elements from both of their previous groups, and is well worth checking out. that said, as good as the album is, it could never beat the best work of either’s previous bands. So once again, we wait patiently for the release of the newest Spoon LP, and hopefully Wolf Parade returns from its hiatus soon as well.
Coveredis a feature where we examine the merits of various cover songs, debating whether or not they capture the spirit and intent of the original, if the cover adds anything new, and whether or not it perhaps surpasses the original. If we fail on those counts, at the very least we may expose you to different versions of great songs you hadn’t heard before.
Today’s inspiration comes from the simple fact that I was listening to the underrated punk band Mclusky this afternoon. They’re now defunct, but they left us with some classic post-hardcore albums that are an excellent mix of fiery intensity and bitterly sarcastic humor. Just taking a look at their album titles should give a clue about the latter (My Pain and Sadness Is More Sad and Painful Than Yours and The Difference Between Me and You Is That I’m Not On Fire come to mind, but knowing the allusion of Mclusky Do Dallas is hilarious as well).
“To Hell With Good Intentions” is one of my favorites, with its string of ridiculous boasts for each verse, mirrored by the nonsensical response of “My love is bigger than your love” and punctuated by the simple warning of the chorus: “We’re all going straight to hell.” Musically, it’s spare, simple, and direct, marked most notably by a rhythmic bass hit that emphasizes each line.
It turns out that these elements help make the song an excellent song to cover. I had a friend whose band used to cover this song, and honestly, it was probably the best song they did–and all they had to do was pretty much play it note-for-note. The song has a natural energy and bounce, and accomplishes the trick of allowing the vocalist to attempt to be more theatrical while the backing instrumentation can focus on the tight music. Also, by the end of the song, even if the audience wasn’t familiar with the song, they’ll be able to sing along.
Japandroids are a much much much much better band than my friend’s band, so it should be no surprise that they perform an excellent version of the song. There’s the necessary musical adjustment from a bass-guitar-drums trio to a guitar-drums duo, with Brian King merging the original’s bassline into a denser overall guitar part. Japandroids also indulge the natural tendency that occurs when covering punk songs, and that’s to play it faster–but they don’t let the tempo get away from them, meaning that they’re able to convey all the urgency they want from the song, but they keep it constrained well enough that it never feels like rushing. A lot of credit should be given to David Prowse’s excellent drumming, both for his timekeeping and his spot-on fills.
BONUS VERSION
Here’s a live version of the Japandroids cover, this time in a more sedate setting:
Coveredis a feature where we examine the merits of various cover songs, debating whether or not they capture the spirit and intent of the original, if the cover adds anything new, and whether or not it perhaps surpasses the original. If we fail on those counts, at the very least we may expose you to different versions of great songs you hadn’t heard before.
As we’ve mentioned before, the big news next week is the release of the latest album from The Black Keys, Turn Blue. That means it’s a perfect opportunity to do one of our regular features for one of our favorite bands, so we’re going to give the Akron, Ohio duo the Covered treatment this week.
Much like their blues predecessors, The Black Keys have displayed a keen aptitude for covers over their career, so there were many options that we could have chosen for this feature. Dan Auerbach and Pat Carney have shown that they’ve drawn inspiration from a number of sources, from the Beatles’ “She Said She Said” on their debut, to the Kinks’ “Act Nice and Gentle” from Rubber Factory, to blues legend Junior Kimbrough, for whom they did an entire EP of covers, Chulahoma. We were tempted to showcase their excellent version of Jerry Butler’s classic “Never Gonna Give You Up”, but decided to highlight the earlier “classic” style of the band, instead of their more recent turn to 70’s R&B and classic rock.
The true mark of the brilliance of The Black Keys is how seamlessly their covers fit within their albums. There is never any indication or signal from the band that “THIS IS A COVER”; all songs bear the same signature aesthetic of that trademark Black Keys “sound”, and they never disrupt the flow of the album. In other words, as one listens through each of their albums, the novice listener would probably be unable to pick out which songs are the originals and which ones are the covers. Perhaps this is a function of the basic setup of the band–drums and guitar, with the latter using a fairly consistent tone. The simple structure (balancing between only three elements (drums/vocals/guitars) and relying on the same instrumentation) helps the band maintain a consistent aesthetic.
This is especially true of “Have Love Will Travel”. It wasn’t until years after my first listen to thickfreakness did I realize it was a cover, and that was only after checking out the album credits on Wikipedia. It’s got the same great dirty, fuzzy guitar tone found throughout the album, and features several tasty leads and solos. Dan gives an impassioned performance with the vocals, matching the intensity of the guitar, and the production style of making it sound as if it was recorded through a tin can enhances the retro feel of the song. Pat does a great job of mixing between shuffle and a more basic rock beat, and his single-beat hits before the last line of each chorus really liven up the song.
The song has a long history, having been covered by several artists since its release in 1959. The version that probably inspired The Black Keys was rendition done by The Sonics. It’s simply a perfect slice of garage rock. It’s a bit quicker than the Black Keys version, leaning a bit harder on a basic swinging rhythm. Here, the guitar sticks to the basic riff, but there’s a killer sax solo that kicks the track into a higher gear. There is a bit of a different approach to each performance: while the Black Keys were committed to wringing out each possible bit of angst from the song, the Sonics would seemingly be content to just toss this one in their set to keep the energy up.
Considering the relative similarities between the versions presented above, hearing the original is quite a shock. It’s a doo-wop song with a much more straight-ahead rhythm (listen to the instruments hit every single eighth note–the only hint of swing is found in the bass line). The carefree nature of the original mirrors The Sonics much more than The Black Keys, but one can see how The Black Keys came to their interpretation through The Sonics version. It could be argued that by focusing on emphasizing the bluesier aspects of the song, that The Black Keys were accentuating the origins, but even I think that’s a bit much. Still, in the end I think I prefer The Black Keys cover most of all–they keep the integrity of the garage rock version of it, but they add their own spin to it that makes it sound like a “Black Keys” song.
Coveredis a feature where we examine the merits of various cover songs, debating whether or not they capture the spirit and intent of the original, if the cover adds anything new, and whether or not it perhaps surpasses the original. If we fail on those counts, at the very least we may expose you to different versions of great songs you hadn’t heard before.
I go out with friends a couple of times a week for trivia nights at different bars, which is really a great way to at least give the impression that you’re sociable. At the very least, it allows me to skip a night of cooking, and with drinks on special, I’d be stupid not to go. One of the establishments we frequent has a good trivia game itself, but has one annoying problem: they use the same iTunes playlist each week. It’s not as if the songs bear any relation to the various categories; it’s just a random mix of the same old hits each week. And every week I curse the fact that I have to break my pledge to never listen to another Sublime song, because I’ve already met my lifetime quota.
One of the songs feature in this playlist is the Jackson Browne classic “Somebody’s Baby”, his hit song from Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Here’s a refresher for those that desire it:
There’s a reason you know and love this song, and it’s not just because you have fond memories of Phoebe Cates. The music itself is instantly familiar because it consists of a classic chord progression, a variation of the I-V-vi-IV. For those interested in pseudo-music theory nerdspeak, this is the root (I) chord with its most common partners, the dominant (V) and subdominant (IV), with the relative minor (vi) thrown in for good measure. It’s the backbone of a lot of pop songs and especially common in punk rock, as it allows for subtle rhythmic tricks and multiple combinations while still sounding “correct” (something that this song does particularly well). It also has a memorable, hooky melody with great leads from the guitar and keys that complement both the chords and the melody. The lyrics also hold their own, with a unique spin on the “shy guy yearns for an unrequited love” trope, with an excellent display of rationalization for not going for it (because, really, do you believe that the narrator is actually going to follow through and “talk to her tonight” at the end of the song?).
While listening to the Jackson Browne for the nth week in a row, I brought up how much I loved the Phantom Planet version of the song. If you’re unfamiliar with the cover and the link above is your first exposure, note that it was one of several 80’s covers done by bands from the mid-00’s featured on the Not Another Teen Movie soundtrack*. I’d spend some time illustrating why the movie that is a better satire of terrible teen films than you would expect, but you’re not here for my film criticism, so we’ll stick with the original plan and analyze the cover.
There are several tweaks that Phantom Planet made that make the cover an improvement on the classic original. First, the increased tempo fits the youthful vibe of the song perfectly, so much so that when the original is heard back-to-back, it seems to drag in comparison. It’s not a drastic change, like a goofy late-90’s pop-punk cover, but it’s enough that it makes a significant difference. Also, by replacing the backing keyboard with another guitar makes the rhythm and lead parts mesh even better, and actually makes it sound even more like a pop song. Not only that, but I have a personal preference for the tone of the guitars, but that may be merely a reflection of my predilection towards 90’s production touches versus those that recall the 80’s. I’d doubt that the subtle change to the chord progression in the first phrase of each verse, switching from the V-I of the original to the I-V-I of the cover, had much of an influence, though the fact that the cover is played and sung a half-step above the original probably did. This tweak gives the cover version an even sunnier appeal, which in my mind emphasizes the narrative of the lyrics.
It’s this combination that leads me to continually hit “repeat” when listening to the Phantom Planet version, while I only pleasantly nod my head when the Jackson Brown original makes its weekly appearance at trivia. Though if they want to meet me halfway and play the Yo La Tengo version next week, I’ll gladly accept.
*It’s a pretty forgettable soundtrack, but I do admit to liking System of a Down’s version of “The Metro” and Goldfinger’s version of “99 Red Balloons”.
Coveredis a feature where we examine the merits of various cover songs, debating whether or not they capture the spirit and intent of the original, if the cover adds anything new, and whether or not it perhaps surpasses the original. If we fail on those counts, at the very least we may expose you to different versions of great songs you hadn’t heard before.
For this edition, since we’re in the middle of “Beck Week” here at RIJR, we’re going to be using him as a pivot in this feature. In other words, we’ll be examining both a cover done by Beck as well as another artist covering one of Beck’s songs.
Initially, I was going to analyze Beck’s cover of Dylan’s “Leopard-Skin Pill-Box Hat”. I first heard this cover at a live show on the Modern Guilt tour, back when I was in New York. I remember how energized Beck was for that particular song, which was a marked contrast to his demeanor for most of the rest of his set (I also want to pin some of the blame on the audience, who were pretty indifferent to much of the set, even when it dipped into Odelay-era rarities like “Minus”). I wasn’t sure how much the lackluster performance could be blamed on doing a multi-night stand, or on the venue (the United Palace Theater is a pretty stunning venue, but while it’s perfect for acts like Sigur Ros, it’s not as conducive to a full-on rock show), or just general malaise from doing yet another tour. In subsequent interviews, I learned that Beck had severe back pain during that era, which makes me feel a bit bad for being generally disappointed with the show.
To keep a long story from going any longer, I decided to go with a different cover, because while I enjoy Beck’s version, I feel that it’s a little too close to the original to be worth further analysis. It’s pretty much how you would imagine a Beck cover of a Dylan song would go–it’s got the ragged feel of the original, slightly more uptempo, with a fuzzier bass and electro-country leads. In other words, it’s not exactly like Death Grips taking a lyric from the song and going in a completely different direction. Instead I’m going to look at a cover that I only learned existed recently, that of Nick Drake’s “Pink Moon”.
Like many of my generation, I am not ashamed to admit that I first heard the song in a Volkswagen ad. It’s not as if I had a huge knowledge of the English folk scene from the 70’s back in high school, so please pardon my ignorance. But I was touched by just the pure beauty of the song, from the soft vocals, the churning acoustic guitar, and that delicate little piano melody that somehow in one line ties the whole thing together. The album would soon hold a dear place in my heart, most notably as a soundtrack to my first couple of semesters of college.
Beck does a great job of capturing the same atmosphere and emotional feelings of the original, and is definitely faithful in that regard. It’s interesting how it is distinctly Beck’s voice, but he is still able to evoke the memory of Nick Drake’s vocals. The difference between the two comes from the guitar parts, which leads to a focus on different rhythms in each version. Most people don’t realize the technical complexity of Nick Drake’s guitar playing; it is an example of how sometimes the most difficult things to do sometimes appear easy to the untrained eye. He used a lot of alternate tunings that allowed him to play a lot of complex rhythmic and lead parts at the same time, often interacting with each other in the same measure. That’s why there’s a consistent drive to the rhythm in the original. Beck (wisely) chooses to not imitate the complexity of those guitar lines, and instead emphasizes certain beats with strummed chords, giving the song a more laid-back feel, and in turn making it somehow even more melancholy. This even extends to the famous piano melody, which with this extra bit of drag conveys an even greater sense of longing.
Now we have the slightly more difficult task of looking at those who have attempted to cover Beck. Surprisingly, there are not that many from which to choose. On the one hand, Beck has composed hundreds of songs, dabbled in dozens of genres, and been around for over two decades now, so you’d think there would be a wide variety of artists that would attempt to cover his work. But even through all those various detours and musical experiments, there is the singular persona of Beck that shines through, and he leaves a specific stamp on each song that he does. But it makes sense that it’s from his album Sea Change, in many ways his most straight-forward singer/songwriter record, that we see at least an attempt by others to try out.
“The Golden Age” kicks off the record, and in many ways after those opening lines (“Put your hands on the wheel/Let the Golden Age begin”), it’s all downhill from there, at least emotionally speaking. I’ll never forget that when the Boston Red Sox won the World Series back in 2004 that the network broadcasting their victory decided that this was an appropriate song to mark the occasion, making it one of the best examples of an executive green-lighting a song without ever hearing the whole thing. Who doesn’t love celebrating with a song whose chorus goes “These days I barely get by/I don’t even try”?
It’s hard to even call this a cover, since the Flaming Lips toured with Beck shortly after Sea Change came out. So you know they at least do a faithful job of covering the music. I do appreciate the rumbling low-end that the Lips manage here, but I miss the slide guitar parts from the original, which added a great counterpoint to the melody. Wayne Coyne adds a bit more fragility to his vocals, but he doesn’t get the same longing feel that Beck conveys in his part. What I find most interesting though is the fact that they omit the second verse, which is actually the one that I prefer. This may be due to the live nature of the performance for a radio show, but it’s an interesting comment if it’s intentional.
Another cover of a Beck song that I think is worth sharing is The Cinematics performing “Sunday Sun”, also from Sea Change. Already one of the more uplifting songs on the album, The Cinematics turn it into a genuinely happy song. It’s not just in the attitude and tempo, but through each part, from the drums (the sixteenth-note hi-hat rhythms help drive the song), to the guitar tones, to the vocals themselves which are simply cheerier. Beck’s original is much more dramatic, and does a great job in building and building over the course of the song. But even when the melody soars, Beck maintains a certain tension with his vocals over the course of the song, which makes the collapse at the end fit perfectly.
Coveredis a feature where we examine the merits of various cover songs, debating whether or not they capture the spirit and intent of the original, if the cover adds anything new, and whether or not it perhaps surpasses the original. If we fail on those counts, at the very least we may expose you to different versions of great songs you hadn’t heard before.
This week we’re going to bridge between an artist we examined last week and a group whose new album we’ll review tomorrow. First, we’ll examine the original from the new artist:
It’s easy to see why “No One’s Gonna Love You” was one of the singles from Cease to Begin. It’s a gorgeous and delicate ballad, with beautiful crystalline guitars, and a soaring melody which is a perfect showcase for Ben Bridwell’s voice. It’s pretty much right in Band of Horses’s wheelhouse, the kind of song that people would suggest when selling the potential of the band. Sorry for the quick description, but the qualities of the song are pretty self-evident upon first listen, and there’s no real need for further analysis on my part.
When examining the tracklist to Cee Lo’s album The Lady-Killer, I wondered if this could possibly be a cover of the Band of Horses tune, and much to my surprise it was. Upon first impression, one wouldn’t expect there to be much common ground between the two artists, but of course Cee Lo has never been one to constrain himself with musical limits (see the previous “Covered” with Gnarls Barkley’s version of “Reckoner”). Cee Lo says “Fuck that” to your narrow-minded expectations (of course, not to be confused with another popular statement he made that year.)
The thing that I love best about this cover is that instead of downplaying the potentially saccharine sentiment of the song, it goes in completely the other direction and amplifies them to the hilt. “No one’s gonna love you more than I do”? Let’s make sure you get the message by adding huge swelling strings! And the basic hip-hop beat programming works surprisingly well with the music too. And the final confirmation of what makes this a really good cover: I’m sure there were plenty of people that bought Cee Lo’s album without realizing that this song was actually done by a semi-obscure indie rock band.
And to top things off, Band of Horses decided to return the favor by doing their own cover of Cee Lo’s “Georgia”. It’s quite the mutual appreciation society that they’ve developed.
Coveredis a feature where we examine the merits of various cover songs, debating whether or not they capture the spirit and intent of the original, if the cover adds anything new, and whether or not it perhaps surpasses the original. If we fail on those counts, at the very least we may expose you to different versions of great songs you hadn’t heard before.
One of the highlights of Radiohead’s classic album In Rainbows was the song “Reckoner”. It may seem like a contradiction when I put it this way, but if I had to describe it, I’d say it was a beautiful, haunted, jazzy piece. The first instrument the listener hears is the super-clean guitars with their rich, bassy tone, a style used throughout In Rainbows but used to maximum effect here (I’ve quipped to friends before that it seemed that Radiohead forgot that there were other pickups on their guitars besides the neck pickup, but it works perfectly in this context). The stuttering rhythm of the beginning arpeggios are complemented by a shuffling drumbeat, which gives the song a right mix of propulsion as well as unease. The use of the ride cymbal also adds to the haunting quality, giving an instrumental haze through which Thom Yorke’s ethereal vocals filter in and out as he pleads in a gorgeous falsetto.
So it would seem like it would be difficult to match the greatness of this song, right?
I would say that while the original is a great song, I believe that the Gnarls Barkley cover surpasses it. The instrumentation is faithful to the original, right down to the tambourine part as played by Danger Mouse. One small difference is that instead of strings, the band opts for some distortion on the guitar, a substitution which works great in the live setting. But what sets this version apart from the original is the amazingly emotional vocal performance by Cee Lo. He gives this song all the passion that it didn’t even know it needed, turning Thom Yorke’s pleadings into a forceful demand. It’s a stunning, powerful performance, and is the key to what makes it one of the best covers I’ve ever heard.
***Side Note: I was actually at the concert in 2001 at The Gorge where Radiohead debuted an early version of “Reckoner”. It sounded pretty much nothing at all like the song we all know now.
Coveredis a feature where we examine the merits of various cover songs, debating whether or not they capture the spirit and intent of the original, if the cover adds anything new, and whether or not it perhaps surpasses the original. If we fail on those counts, at the very least we may expose you to different versions of great songs you hadn’t heard before.
I’m going to kick off this feature with a true toss-up in my mind: “Another One Goes By”.
We’ll start off with the version that I imagine most people heard first, the cover as done by The Walkmen. For many, A Hundred Miles Off was a bit of disappointment, a small bump on the road between Bows + Arrows and You & Me and other later successes. The band has even shown indications that they agree with that assessment, from their interviews to their setlists, but there are some undeniable great songs on that record: “Louisiana”, live favorite “All Hands And The Cook”, and the closer “Another One Goes By”. The fact that the last one was a cover would probably come as a shock to most people, since it has all the elements of a natural Walkmen song: warm organ/bright piano, trebly guitar strums, and plaintively yearning lyrics that fit Hamilton Leithauser’s unique voice perfectly.
Here’s the original, from the band Mazarin. The immediate difference that’s apparent is the driving drumbeat that keeps the tempo up throughout the song, giving the song a drive that provides a counter to the melancholic lyrics. The added filter on the vocals give the lyrics a more haunted quality, and enhances the theme of mourning over lost opportunities. But considering the similarities in the rest of the song, it’s easy to see why it was a natural fit for The Walkmen to cover.
In the end, it’s hard to argue one or way the other which is better. It’s clear that The Walkmen were able to capture the wistful but mournful spirit of the song, but chose instead to convey this through a quiet, laid-back shuffle of a drumbeat and a more expressive vocal performance. It truly comes down to my particular mood at the moment as to which version I prefer.
Rust Is Just Right 