You don't have to be a big A Perfect Circle fan like yours truly to appreciate their devastating rendition of John Lennon's Imagine, recorded for their "protest album" eMotive.
It's one of those songs everyone's heard a thousand times, so to successfully transform every bit of hope, happiness and desire for a better future into a dirge of despair and darkness is no little feat. It's almost as if the original never happened.
A Perfect Circle took a naive, one-dimensional, patchouli stinking hippie wishlist and turned it on its head in an ominous death blues evoking images of jumbo jets crashing into skyscrapers in slow motion from ten different angles on prime time TV and row after row of American soldiers shipped home in flag-draped coffins.
Now that summer is here (although it's a little early, there's still time for a blizzard or two) what better song to share than Summertime Blues?
Cochran's original version is fine, but there's just something about Blue Cheer rumbling rendition that makes me salivate. For me, Blue Cheer's cover is where heavy metal was born, so it's probably just the metal head in me talking.
Both are better than The Who's version anyway, that's for damn sure. Goddamn, I hate The Who so much. Feck 'em.
Welcome to yet another installment of "The Cover Is Better Than The Original".
There has never been a Beatles cover that was better than the original, and that's a fact. A fact. The Beatles' solo-work however need a little improving sometimes - more proof of this will be posting on Tuesday.
Paul McCartney's Maybe I'm Amazed, from his 1970 self-titled debut album, is a great song, but it needed a bunch of jolly red-nosed booze hounds with Rod Stewart behind the mic to perfect it.
The Faces version was released a year later on their second album Long Player. It's tits.
The recording of Sympathy For The Devil must be one of the most documented in rock history. Jean-Luc Godard made a documentary in 1968 named after the song which chronicled its evolution from a rather bland and straight-forward folk song, through many fascinating stages, all the way up to its final samba-esque version.
Since then it's been covered by everyone from Guns N' Roses and Janes Addiction to Bon Jovi and Natalie Merchant. The most fascinating interpreters though are Slovenian goofballs and full-time provocateurs Laibach. After releasing an album covering all of The Beatles' Let It Be in 1988, they soon followed it up with an EP consisting of seven different cover versions and remixes of Sympathy For The Devil.
So completely pointless and so very very entertaining.
Today is my old man's 63rd birthday. Happy birthday, pops! :)
Louie Louie, perhaps THE rock song above all other rock songs, was written in 1955 by Rick Berry and has been covered more times than anyone can could count. The main riff has over the years become a standard in rock and can be found in everything from several Stooges and Rolling Stones songs to Smells Like Teen Spirit.
The Kingsmen recorded the most well-known version in 1963, and Toots & The Maytals (one of very few reggae groups I can actually listen to without having a nervous breakdown) recorded their take on it ten years later. Makes sense that they covered it since it tells the story of a Jamaican sailor bragging to someone named Louie about his fine woman.
It's probably my favorite version of the song, which really is saying something - I fucking hate reggae.
Roky Erickson will forever be a hero of mine, although his severly narcrotic group of misfits and burn-outs known as 13th Floor Elevators has less relevance to me than his solo work. There's only so much electric jug one man can take, y'know.
Roky's song-writing was in top form early on though, and he wrote several classic tracks for the band. Today's song however was written by Tommy Hall (the aforementioned annoying electric jug player) and guitarist Stacy Sutherland, and appeared on their second album Easter Everywhere.
Gothenburg's Silverbullit (in America known as "Citizen Bird") covered the song thirty years later with great results.
This song by Jerry Lee Lewis and Ron Hargrave was released as a single in 1958 and only made it to #21 on the charts. A shame since it's ten times the song Great Balls Of Fire was, and that went to #2.
When rockabilly/country/psychobilly lunatic Hasil Adkins recorded his version is a little uncertain, I can't seem to find any info on it. It was probably around the same time, but with Adkins' lo-fi homerecordings it's hard to tell.
Sonny & Cher's hypnotic The Beat Goes On has been covered and remixed numerous times, but no one has done a worse job than French disco duo Casino Music.
Not only did they have the worst band name in history, they made music that makes my brain try to jump out of my nose and kill itself.
I had the dubious honor of being introduced to them over at the excellent but seldom updated blog Death Wears White Socks. Go there and download the album, it's a shocker.
Long Black Veil was written by Marijohn Wilkin and Danny Dill in 1959 and tells the tale of an innocent man accused of murder, but since his alibi is a little touchy (he was boning his best friend's missus at the time) he decides to let them execute him for the murder rather than let the world know about the affair. The titual black veil refers to the woman's garment when she mourns her beloved.
Lefty Frizzel did the original and it's been covered numerous times, but I dare say The Band's version, from their debut album Music From Big Pink, is the definitive one.
The Kinks are almost as overrated as The Rolling Stones, but they sure had a handful of good songs, and Everybody's Gonna Be Happy is one of them.
Queens Of The Stone Age covered it on the limited edition of their third album Songs For The Deaf. They also covered its b-side Who'll Be Next In Line on their Feel Good Hit Of The Summer single two years prior and that kicked all kinds of ass, but I think this one is even better.
For a while I toyed with the idea of perhaps ditching QOTSA altogether and post Green Day's Kinks cover Tired Of Waiting For You, but then someone screwed my head back on.
Because of some careless douchebag with a bulldozer, my internet connection got cut off two days ago and brought Covers Month to an unexpected halt. Maybe next time you should find out if there's cables in the ground before you start digging around at random?
Just a thought.
So to get back on schedule, here's three days worth of covers and originals.
Editors' cover of Bonny is another one that's really made the rounds on the blogosphere and even I have posted it before. But it's so damn good it deserves to be posted again, here accompanied by the original.
Along with Just Can't Get Enough and a couple of others, Enjoy The Silence is Depeche Mode's most popular and beloved song. Failure recorded their own version for the 1998 tribute album For The Masses, and it was by far the most enjoyable track on the record.
Apparently Andy Fletcher thinks Failure's version is better than Depeche's own, and I'm inclined to agree.
I Fought The Law was originally done by Sonny Curtis & The Crickets in 1959, but Bob Fuller took it on six years later and recorded the definitive version, although The Clash took a decent crack at it in 1979.
Of course I couldn't resist squeezing deal old Jandek into Covers Month. Posting his perhaps best song and Ivory Elephant's cover of it, also gives me a reason to talk about his show at Rudyard's in his home town of Houston exactly one week ago.
There were many extraordinary things about this gig, his first in Houston. But it all boils down to five essentials points (get ready because this is shocking stuff):
1. Jandek sat at the bar when the doors opened and greeted and talked to everyone who entered. He didn't hide backstage as usual, he actually socialised! And seemed happy about it!
2. The show consisted of an 80 minute funk jam. Yes, a funk jam.
3. The audienced DANCED! The music was so groovy and hot an actual party atmosphere spread in the room and people couldn't help but jump up and down, grind their crotched against one another and shake their booties.
4. Jandek danced! And smiled! He appeared to genuinely have a good time and would often engage in call & response antics from the stage. Remember, this is the man who barely acknowledges his audience during concerts.
5. Jandek played an encore! Indeed, he and his fellow musicians (bassist Keith Vivens and drummer Tyson Sheth) were called back and played another 15 minutes!
This has to be one of those milestones in Jandek's career. You could say that Nancy Sings was the first milestone, as it was the first time he had collaborators. The three a capella records would be another milestone, as would his decision to finally play live.
Amidst the unbridle funkamania, Jandek would recite his lyrics like a demented David Byrne or maul his guitar in Sonic Youth-like distorted infernos. So supremely fucked up and so completely unexpected. Watch the video below if you don't believe me, this was the last thing Jandek fans were expecting.
So cool, absolutely unbelievable. Can't wait to hear what the next album will sound like!
Take Up Thy Stethoscope..., the most reviled song in the Pink Floyd catalogue. The one song on their debut album Piper At The Gates Of Dawn not penned by Syd Barrett. I have no idea why no one likes this song. I personally love it, it's definitely my favorite song on the album.
Texans At The Drive-In covered it during a session at the BBC in 2001, and while it seemed fairly bland at the time, it's only gotten more interesting with time since it's in many ways a precursor to the realms singer Cedric Bixler-Zavala and guitarist Omar Rodriguez-López would soon explore in their current band The Mars Volta.
In the much proggier and looser The Mars Volta they've more or less made it their specialty, especially in a live setting, to play song with a fixed and rehearsed opening, a wild jazzy free-form jam session in the middle, and then back to a fixed ending, as opposed to the more rigid and dull At The Drive-In.
A formula that's rather predictable in its unpredictability but it works for them.
You all remember Prince, don't you? The anemic mulatto midget with the pirate shirts? Yeah, that's the one.
The Beautiful People is from the spectacularly tacky 1984 film Purple Rain, specifically from a scene in which Prince makes a plea to Apollonia to choose him over the douchebag Morris. That Prince himself was, and still is, the biggest douchebag around was apparently something the film makers hoped we wouldn't notice.
Fireside covered this song on the Hello Kids compilation 14 years later and it's superior to the original in every way, mainly because they changed it so much you can't even recognise it.
I made a promise to myself I wouldn't post the more well-known covers during Covers Month, and these aren't exactly obscure as they have been making serious rounds on the blogosphere, but they're too good to exclude.
Oasis' Wonderwall, for many including myself one of the major anthems of the 90s, a cover by Ryan Adams and Noel Gallagher's cover of Adams' cover.
The song has been covered more times than I can count, but these stand out for the obvious full circle reasons.
One of my favorite Beatles songs from their early years, which I am admittedly not a big fan of.
Then there's two versions by Peter Sellers, one quite famous where he recites the lyrics as his Dr. Strangelove character from the film of the same name, and one perhaps lesser known, performed as a Cockney (?) character called Sid.
If anyone has any information about these two, feel free to leave a comment, since I don't even know what year Sellers recorded his versions. Most likely mid to late 60s, but that goes without saying.
Terry Jacks' schmaltzy but awesome Seasons In The Sun from 1974 is the most well-known version of Jacques Brel's La Moribond.
This cover has in turn been covered countless times, including none other than Nirvana who recorded their not so serious version while on tour in Brazil in 1993. With a slight line up change: Kurt on drums, Dave Grohl on bass and Krist Novoselic on what sounds like an incredibly out of tune guitar.
Following in the footsteps of the Pere Ubu cover from yesterday, here's another song covered by a Swede, in Swedish - My Morning Jacket's Off The Record as interpreted by Anders Wendin, aka Moneybrother.
Again, just as when bob hund covered Pere Ubu, the cover is much faster than the original (a good decision I think, the original does tend to drag a bit) and the long outro is omitted.
Under Bordet was included on the covers album Pengabrorsan, which consisted (almost) entirely of English language songs, by Donna Summer, Tom Waits, Nick Lowe, Ron Sexsmith and others, translated into Swedish.
And not just by any Swedish band, by the mighty bob hund, who in their take of Final Solution pick up the pace and add a desperate, ferocious urgency perhaps lacking in the original.
I'd say this is a case of the cover being better than the original - you don't even have to understand Swedish to appreciate bob hund's version.
I've never quite been able to understand the difference between The Smashing Pumpkins, Billy Corgan's main band, and Starchildren.
Starchildren was on a side project of Corgan's between 1990 and 1994 that also included (among others) Jimmy Chamberlain, D'Arcy Wretzky and James Iha of Smashing Pumpkins. This cover of Joy Division's Isolation (from their second album Closer) and an original composition entitled Delusions Of Candor were the only songs they ever released.
Whenever Starchildren performed live they would sometimes play songs that would eventually end up on Pumpkins records. Was Starchildren just an excuse to fool around and make music without the pressures and expectations the Pumpkins would get?
Or is it like when he split up Zwan into separate entities, True Poets Of Zwan and The Djali Zwan, even though never any difference between the two?
Whatever, I don't really care what the difference is, if there is one.
Three months ago Florian Schneider left Kraftwerk. Thanks for telling me, people.
I was planning on posting some other cover + original today for Covers Month, but I'll save that for tomorrow and post these two versions of The Robots instead as a belated tribute to Florian, the strangest member of one of my favorite bands.
Kraftwerk's original version was released in 1978 on the Man-Machine album, and was written by Schneider, Ralf Hütter and Karl Bartos.
Teddybears, aka Teddybears STHLM, who has enjoyed international success in recent years with Cobrastyle (also covered by Robyn), Hey Boy, Punkrocker (feat. Iggy Pop) and fuck knows what else, released their cover on their second album, 1996's I Can't Believe It's Teddybears STHLM.
Produced by none other than Christian Falk. Cool beans.
Downtown, the wonderful celebration of New York City's nightlife, was written by Tony Hatch for The Drifters, but eventually ended up in Petula Clark's hands who with her pipes of gold made it one of the most memorable pop song of the 60s.
Two years later, novelty act Mrs. Miller recorded her own rendition with her Ethel Merman-inspired voice and complete lack of pitch and timing. Imagine the sound of your mother drinking too much sherry on Christmas and deciding karaoke would be the jolliest thing for everyone right now. It's an agonizing listen, but highly entertaining.
I'm not going to start my usual rant on how much I love James Mangold's 1999 film Girl, Interrupted and why (Winona Ryder is thoroughly unconvincing in the lead role, but everything is so spot on I love it anyway), so I'll just leave it at Ryder's and Angelina Jolie's impromtu version of the song, which their characters perform in the film to cheer up a fellow nutjob.
Yes that's right, people! A whole month of covers!
Some nice and silky smooth, others torn and washed-out. Some fluffy and smelling nice, others with pee on them. Or worse.
Covers are a mixed blessing that, to be honest, don't always bring anything new to the table, so I'll try to keep this interesting and pick the covers you perhaps wouldn't think of. Or hopefully haven't even heard of.
We'll start this one nice and easy with two Seattle bands doing the same song - garage rock godfathers The Sonics and their Boss Hoss, released as a single in 1965 with The Hustle as the b-side.
In the hands of noisemongers The Melvins (who loves annoying people, usually starting with their own fans) the song turns into a raging punk song a full minute shorter than the original.
Their version was included on a split single with stand-up comedian Patton Oswalt. The b-side has Oswalt ripping a girl in the audience a new asshole for talking during his act. Utterly brilliant.
Did I mention the a-side also includes a backwards version of Boss Hoss? "Annoying" doesn't even begin to describe it.