Lifting Up the Covers - ten extra cover songs you should hear
Apr 12 '09
The Bottom Line If you look at cover songs as nothing more than lazy songwriting, you're really missing out.
Hollywood seems to have shied away from the word "remake" these days. Not that they've stopped remaking old movies, of course. They've just taken to calling it "re-imagining" (or "rebooting," if it's an entire franchise). Look at what was done with Batman Begins, Casino Royale, Planet of the Apes, or the upcoming Star Trek film. All the building blocks of character and plot conventions are still there, but they're been tweaked - given a glossy new sheen and redesigned for the next generations tastes. Do the producers behind these re-imaginings expect that they can do things better than the original? Well, they probably do, the way so many Hollywood bigwigs are just a little detached from reality these days. For us in the audience, though, as long as we can leave behind the expectation that new versions of familiar things need to be better, these re-imaginings can be enjoyable on their own and help us to appreciate the original in a whole new way at the same time.
Songs see more than their fair share of re-imaginings, too, but they tend not to stand out as prominently. Perhaps that's because songs have always been much more fluid than movies. Artists will often try out a new arrangement for a live performance, and the night-by-night touring schedule that so many up-and-coming acts deal with can sometimes lead to a slightly different version of a given song for every different city. Add in the remixes and demos that often appear as bonus tracks on deluxe re-issues, and re-imagined versions of songs will hardly make most people bat an eye (or an ear, as it may be). Common as they may be, cover versions of songs are always worth a listen. True, those re-imagined songs that add an entirely new dimension to the original are few and far between (stepping back to the world of movies, there are far more Nutty Professor's than there are Batman Begins's). Almost every cover song, even those that make serous missteps, have something to offer fans of the original. Here are ten such songs that try to re-imagine previous work in a truly innovative, truly satisfying way.
So It Goes by The Brighton Port Authority (originally by Nick Lowe)
Nick Lowe's debut single as a solo artist is a hallmark of British pub rock, with its boisterously twangy guitar, its relentlessly pounding riffs, its stream of consciousness verses, and its air of detached cool that drips off of the vocals. In the hands of the Brighton Port Authority (the latest pseudonym of Norman Cook, a.k.a Fatboy Slim), the song sounds just as surreal in the lyrics department, but musically, it gets to relax and unwind in a way that Lowe's beer hall stomp never afforded it. Cook cuts the tempo and builds the song around soft, spongy electric piano riffs backed by a festive handclap rhythm and the occasional chorus of oooh's in multi part harmonies. The results is a pure, laid-back, R&B groove, completely different from, but every bit as memorable as the original.
(found on the album I Think We're Gonna Need a Bigger Boat)
Higher Ground by Ellen McIlwaine (originally by Stevie Wonder)
Some musical instrument have such a unique sound that they seem to take on a unique personality all to themselves. The clavinet synthesizer is certainly one of them, and anyone who's heard Stevie Wonder's Higher Ground can attest to manic energy and rebellious attitude it produces with its frenetic, staccato bursts of funk. Equally distinctive in its personality is the slide guitar. Slide virtuoso Ellen McIlwaine brings her steel guitar sound to the song, filling it with the loose, fluid and sinister playfulness that the instrument is known for. Mix together the blues edge that the instrument brings to the song and McIlwaine's vocal delivery (reminiscent of Janis Joplin), and we've got something that puts a great new spin on the song.
(found on the album The Real Ellen McIlwaine)
Teenage Dirtbag by Scala (originally by Wheatus)
Plenty of people who hear Wheatus for the first time mistake lead singer Brendan B. Brown for a girl, given his very high vocal register. Such a misunderstanding gives their song Teenage Dirtbag, a paean to the unattainable-pretty-girl-next-door type, an entirely different, entirely unintentional subtext. At the same time, though, that gender confusion makes it easy to accept a cover version of this pop-punk gem by an all-girls school choir from Belgium. Accompanied by a lone, classical-sounding concert piano, the girls of Scala fill the song with rich harmonies and the kind of sweet innocence that can only come from classically trained girls' voices. With their formal training and the hint of their European accents, the lyrics about listening to Iron Maiden together seem ludicrously absurd, but they're sung with such genuine passion that we can help being drawn in.
(found on the album On the Rocks)
Modern Love by Starlit (originally by David Bowie)
David Bowie is no stranger to musical experimentation. He's done glam, soul, pop, electronica, and so much more. As far as I know, though, he never went through a German cabaret phase. Lucky for us, Starlit is here to take up the slack. On their cover of Modern Love, the band blends together an arrangement of rich clarinets, harmon-muted trumpets, and tinny banjo, to create something that Kurt Weil, could have been proud of., as lead singer Simara Rose does her ultry-sultry best to cannel the spirit of Marlene Dietrich and play the femme fatale role. As traditional as much of this song sounds, it jumps into much more modern times for the chorus, adding in heavy electric guitar and percussion, and pushing Rose's vocal to the point of distortion for an almost industrial sound. Bowie, musical chameleon that his is, would be proud of the incongruous blend.
(found on the album She Was a Spicy She-Wolf)
Crazy Train by Christopher Dale (originally by Ozzy Osbourne)
Before he turned into a bumbling TV buffoon, Ozzy Osbourne spent so much time and energy cultivating his "Prince of Darkness" persona that any genuinely uplifting moments he may have created (intentionally or not) tended to pass unnoticed. Consider his Crazy Train, where the rather inspiring sentiment of "maybe it's not too late / to learn how to love / forget how to hate" gets buries under Ozzy's malevolent vocal delivery. Cristopher Dale strips away all the metal effects from the arrangement, slowing things down to create a simple acoustic guitar piece that could easily pass for a sixties folk anthem. Dale's vocals, unlike Ozzy's, are delivered with the utmost clarity and a healthy dose of vulnerability, reinforcing the illusion that the song is a lost protest song from hippy days calling for sanity in a world gone mad.
(found on the album Christopher Dale)
Word Up by Willis (originally by Cameo)
The years have not been kind to Cameo's most memorable hit. The synth-funk freakout of Cameo may have been all the rage in 1986, but today it feels like a cheesy cliche. (Granted, it's an awful fun cliche to listen to in kitschy kind of way, but a cliché nonetheless.) If we could strip out all of the over-produced synths, though, and replace them with some upright bass groves and a few bare-bones but tight licks on a steel string acoustic guitar we might get something a little more timeless. That's exactly what Willis have done to the song, turning the neo-funk hit into a slowed-down, smoky blues jam that simmers with a laid-back heat that burns away any of that residual cheesiness left on the original after all these years.
(found on the album Rewind!. 4)
Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay by David Grisman, John Hartford, and Mike Seeger (originally by Otis Redding)
Songs that combine seemingly incompatible elements are a joy to behold, and Otis Redding's posthumous hit pulled off that feat in several ways. Not only does it combine lyrics of beaten-down world weariness with a sentiment of pure, calm contentment, it also manages to make the rather whitebread sound of whistling seem every bit as cool as the rich soul sound of the song' saxophones. Grisman, Hartford, and Seeger strip away much of those contrasts to re-cast the song as a simple piece of Americana folk, like something from a rustic, backwoods, jug band (minus the jug). Backed by nothing more than slow banjo picking, Grisman sings the song in a deep southern drawl akin to Leon Redbone, throwing some yodeling into the mix. The results sound like a lost Appalachian folk tune dating back all the way to the great depression.
(found on the album Retrograss)
New York, New York by Cat Power (popularized by Frank Sinatra)
It's interesting how much an arrangement can color the theme of a song. Let's look at New York, New York as an example. Frank Sinatra's definitive take on the song is full of brightly brazen horns, lush orchestral fills, and swingin' shuffle rhythm that gives the song an upbeat feeling of the exciting possibilities that lie ahead in the big city. In Chan Marshall's hands, though, the song is all bluesy synth keyboards and and plodding snare drum beats, giving the song a beaten-down, world-weary feel. Marshall pleadingly wails her way through the minor-key arrangement, completely changing the feel of lines like "it's up to you, New York New York" to the desperate cry of someone who's seen all their dreams slip away and is frantic for one last chance before throwing in the towel forever.
(found on the album Jukebox)
Satisfaction by Dolapdere Big Gang (originally by The Rolling Stones)
Rock and Roll is one of the world's universal languages, but that doesn't mean that there's no room to inject some local color into the mix. And the more exotic the local color sounds, the better. Take the Dolapdere Big Gang, as an example. The nine-piece band from Turkey mixes together sweeping orchestral arpeggios on the violin, rolling percussion lines on hand drums, and exotic sounding clarinet riffs into a high energy middle-eastern celebration fit for the most spirited of belly dancers. Vocally, though, lead singer Emil Yesil clings tightly to the original version of the song, letting the western sentiments of the lyrical emotions to create a great east-meets-west feeling for the song.
(found on the album Just Feel)
My Best Friend's Magic Girlfriend by Butch Walker (originally by The Cars)
Cover medleys that combine two or more songs into one can be a little risky. If they're done in a slipshod manner, the transition from one song to another comes across forced and stilted. Even if the arrangement flows smoothly, there's the likelihood that the mixture of songs comes off as little more than a kitschy novelty. Defying the odds, though, Butch Walker combines The Cars' Magic and My Best Friend's Girl so deftly that many listeners may not even realize that there are two different songs being covered. Walker completely re-arranges the wo songs into a matching acoustic guitar rhythm, and sings everything in a dream-like, echoey haze. Gone is the new wave energy of the originals, but in its place is an entirely new grown-up singer-songwriter groove.
(found on the album Substitution Mass Confusion)
Do these re-imaginings mess with some sacred cows? For the purists out there, yes. Don't let that scare you away though. Come at them with an open mind and they may just help you to appreciate the originals a little bit more. And if you dig these new versions, too, so much the better.
Take a moment and check out these other lists, too:
Close Cover Before Striking - the original
Cover Me, I'm Goin' In - part II
Quit Hogging the Covers - part III
Don't Worry, We've Got You Covered - part IV
Curled Up Under the Covers - part V
Cover Up Before You Head Out - Part VI
An Under Cover Investigation - Part VII
Everybody Run for Cover! - Part VIII
There's a Cover-up Going On Here - Part IX
Covering All the Bases - Part X
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