Favorite Albums of 2017 Number 6 - Larkin Poe's Peach

I'm usually most impressed by music that sounds like it's off the cuff, unassuming and with little in the way of fancy production. The DIY aesthetic of the most underground punk is one extreme of this, but it all stems from my love of more traditional music, regardless of the origin - folk music. Whether it's the traditional Latin American boleros I grew up with or the blues I got into in my teens, the sound of a couple of people with guitars and a feeling to share is the most amazing thing to me. Larkin Poe have brought this idea into the 21st century with their Tip o' the Hat series of covers on YouTube and their latest album Peach.

Featuring a mix of traditional blues covers and original songs, the album was entirely recorded and produced by Rebecca and Megan Lovell playing all instruments. It's a blend of organic instruments, drum programming, synths and simple editing tricks that captures that same feeling of two people in a room with guitars, but throws in a laptop without losing the urgency. All the attention is on the music, with arrangements that are stripped down but complex and feel fresh. It's all folk music, music of the people. Music that should feel like anyone could pick up an instrument and just play it. And while hip hop already showed us that this could mean a turntable or mixer and electronica artists have been making bedroom albums, this album is a great blend of these more modern takes with the more traditional. On top of that, this record was completed in one long weekend.

Robert Johnson's "Come on in My Kitchen," opens the album with a literal invitation to see what the sisters have cooked up. It's a minimalist take on the song, which I very much prefer to bands that electrify and over-complicate the blues for no reason. It's a demonstration of how these ladies respect their roots. The songs alternate between covers and originals that aren't all so obviously rootsy, giving everything a truly timeless feel. A classic like Son House's "Preachin' Blues" oozes funk in a way that is different from but still reverent of the original. Originals like "Freedom" and "Cast 'Em Out" show off how well the ladies can make these traditions their own, incorporating classic blues and gospel styles while remaining fresh and relevant. Then there are songs like "Look Away," "Pink & Red" and "Wanted Woman/AC/DC" which mix things up by going more modern and heavier without going overboard or sounding out of context. The juxtapositions work incredibly well and are all anchored by two of the most talented and dedicated guitar players, singers and all around musicians currently working. 

The album ends even more stripped down than it started with a haunting hand claps and foot stomp version of "Tom Devil" that is begging to be used in a movie. This is an expression of artistry and tribute that pushes Larkin Poe into a whole new dimension of their career. They know the roots of the music they love, they have deconstructed it and put it back together in their own way. Whatever they do next I'm in.

Perfect (Cover) Songs - Alison

I'm just going to get to the pretty obvious and well established point: Elvis Costello is one of the greatest songwriters of all time, period. The fact that one of his greatest songs comes from his very first album in a long and ridiculously productive career is a testament to this fact. "Alison" is one of those songs that is brilliantly original and yet, somehow, stupidly obvious in how it taps into musical and emotional ideas that just seem to be part of the fabric of existence. While there have been many covers, few come even close to the original's simple perfection. In fact, most covers are pretty bad, but there's one that I think finally matches the original, and comes close to surpassing it, but first let's hear from the man himself.

This early live version trades in some of the soulful polish for, maybe, even more soulful, raw emotional edge. The droning organ in this version really amps the moodiness where this could be a small bar with nobody in it and Elvis is some nobody who just lived this moment where he saw his long lost love after years and is now just laying it all out for whoever happens to be there to listen. While Elvis can certainly mine new feelings from this or any of his songs with every performance, along comes the one cover that has blown me away, from Lydia Loveless.

I've been listening more and more to Loveless the past couple of years and I'm always moved by how plaintively empathetic her delivery is on everything she does, but here it really stands out to me. Stripped down to just guitar and vocal, this can't get anymore raw and nobody right now does raw like her. It comes across as incredibly open and honest in just the way that Elvis's best work usually does, but her very distinct and natural twang adds both sweetness and edge in a unique combination that makes this hers. Lately, when I feel like listening to this song, this is the version I pull up. Although, occasionally, I go back to back with this and the original. To think this was just a b-side for her. Then there's a Linda Ronstadt version that was a minor hit for her. But, man, it's pretty horrible.

That sax is just completely out of place and it comes across as this light FM thing you'd hear in an elevator. But worse to me is that she changes the whole tone of the song for no reason by altering the best line in the song from "I don't know if you've been loving somebody, I only know it isn't mine" to "I don't know if you were loving somebody, I only hope he wasn't mine." Is Alison the other woman to Linda's husband in this scenario?  I don't know, but the rest of the lyrics don't change, so it makes no damn sense at all. Yet, as bad as that is. . .

Bono is as insufferable as his worst caricatures on this cover and I actually like U2. Had he ever even heard the song before? Bono the Butcher they should call him. Fuck. I don't care that Elvis is there with him, this is a disaster. I mean, I know I celebrate rawness and this is certainly raw and unhinged, but damn, dude, there's a limit. This goes way beyond the guy at an empty bar singing out his heartache and right into drunken ex-boyfriend doing bad, heartfelt karaoke at Alison's wedding while everyone stares in horror - you know what, fuck it, this is actually kind of brilliant now that I think of it like that. The bizarre scatting at the end is the best part. This is now my new favorite version (not really).

Perfect Songs - To Love Somebody

You learn something new every day. Maybe. I don't know, but I sure as shit learned something today that I'm surprised I didn't know, even though I kind of knew instinctively. See, I've always loved this song and this morning I was listening to it and decided it would be my next Perfect Song installment. Maybe even as a Perfect Cover Song, because in my head I somehow remembered an Otis Redding version. But low and behold, I couldn't find that version, because it turns out it exists only in some parallel universe. But, and this is the part I learned today, the song was actually written for Otis to record and he would have if he hadn't died before doing so. The song is, of course, "To Love Somebody" by The Bee Gees.

If you listen to the original, and know anything at all about Southern Soul in general and Otis specifically, then it's easy to see how much sense it would have made for him to sing it. This song drips with that heartfelt, on your knees, naked emotional proclamation and pleading that I love about Otis and all the other Southern Soul greats of the 60s. It's obvious to me that Barry and Robin Gibb were not only fans of Otis, but that they studied him and the genre enough to produce a song that is authentically of the genre. Their version only comes off a little more glossy than I would imagine Otis would have done it, but even without the grit, the feeling is there.

And of course, the song's been covered a whole hell of a lot. There are few which, while not exactly what I imagine Otis would have done, do bring some of the elements of what might have come from him. The first one is one of the first covers of the song ever done, by James Carr. This version has the soul, for sure. You can't argue with James Carr, but nobody's Otis. It's a different thing altogether, leaning a little more to Gospel than Otis did, but there is some extra grit on his take that gets us closer, I think. And on it's own merits, it still is a good cover.

Then there's a version that somehow brings even more heartache by going smoother than the original. Nina Simone's smokey velvet tone is pretty far from the raw outpouring I falsely remember hearing from Otis on this song in my head, but it's Nina fucking Simone, god damn it and this version is something else entirely. Her voice was always capable of bringing a certain level of pain to this type of song that I'm not sure can be compared to anyone else. Her performance is understated, but the heaviness of it all is undeniable. The word unique is thrown around a lot, but Nina truly embodies a unique performer and her take on this song, while not drastically different than other versions, becomes hers simply because it's her. It truly stands on it's own.

Finally, there's Janis Joplin doing the closest thing I can imagine to what Otis might have done. It's big and unbridled and sweaty. And kind of messy. Like love. Like Soul. The thing is, it's a perfect fucking song, bottom line. But lest we think that it's impossible to fuck up a perfect song, I leave you with this. Listen at your own peril.

Perfect (Cover) Songs - Si Una Vez

There are some other good ones on their cover album.

I remember back in the 90s, seeing and hearing Selena all the time in Miami, but didn't realize how big she really was until her death and then the fact that a movie was made nailed it. I always assumed she was just known to pockets of Hispanic communities, but maybe she was bigger than that. I was never really a fan, but there were a couple of songs that sort of wound their way into my ears. So a couple years ago, when I heard this song, I knew it sounded familiar but had to dig to find out why. Sure enough, it was Selena. But Girl in a Coma's version of "Si Una Vez" is way more to my liking. It's a perfect cover.

Taking this Tejano fuck-off ballad and amping it up in every way, they really put the anger in your face. Not that the original didn't already have some of that bite, I mean, it's in the lyrics, "If once I said I loved you, I regret it," but this version's energy is undeniable. From that western guitar intro that announces this as a final stand off and makes sure to keep us in Texas this is oozing with moody disdain for this former lover. Once that punky beat kicks in, this song takes comfort in that hate, completely dismissing that old flame as nothing but a mistake. It's infectious and hard for me to listen to less than 3 times in a row.

From the first time I heard Nina Diaz's vocals, I was mesmerized. She has an odd style and a very unique type of vibrato, some strange pronunciations, and it all comes together to make her one of my favorite singers. She can go from sweet to angry or otherwise devastatingly dramatic on dime, which makes her perfect for this song. Of course I always find her vocals interesting, so it's not just this song. But something about this particular song, maybe because it's an unexpected cover from a band named for a Smith's song, just stands out to me. It's surprising and yet makes perfect sense. It's a perfect cover.

Perfect (Cover) Songs: A Case of You

Drink the whole thing, dust and all.

It happens often that the first time I hear a song it turns out to be a cover, I dig back to the original and wind up liking the cover better. Sometimes, the opposite happens, though. And sometimes, they're pretty even. Sometimes I'll hear yet other versions and find some that stand on their own, bringing something new to the mix and I'm left unable to decide which is better because it really depends on what you're in the mood for. But at the end of the day, the strength of the song itself is what stands, and practically any version will do. I haven't heard every single version as I'm sure there must be millions, well, maybe not that many, but a lot, but I think Joni Mitchell's "A Case of You" is in that league where you can have a, uh, case of different versions to choose from. I'm saying it's a perfect song with several perfect covers.

The first time I heard it was Tori Amos' version which is a B-Side from Under the Pink's "Cornflake Girl" UK single. If you were ever into Tori, you sought these things out. It's the version I first hear in my head since it's ingrained deeply. I played this thing over and over again, obsessed with the melancholy longing to want to get completely drunk on someone. There's a sense of morbidity in love that is rarely talked about explicitly, but I often hear in the best love songs. Tori's take on the song seems to drown in that submission and it's captivating. But eventually, I had to hear the original.

Remember that Janet Jackson song, "Got Til It's Gone" where she sampled Joni Mitchell and Q Tip kept saying "Joni Mitchell never lies"? Yeah, he wasn't lying either. Though her's is not my favorite, I think it's interesting that her's seems to lean a little more towards the defiant joy of a complicated, sometimes combative and maybe even slightly abusive (?) relationship. I mean it's her song, she knows what it's about so it makes sense her performance seems to stay closer to the emotion of the lyrics. And again, it's entirely possible the difference between these two versions is all in my head. But it is what it is and it's what this song is to me. So, then there was Prince.

Only Prince can do that. He takes it to a level that is at once true to both of the other two versions but amps up the sexy to the point that this is a bedroom jam. It's candle light and satin sheet music and it somehow fits perfectly. I don't normally go for this type of R&B, but this is just so different from the original that it's hard not to appreciate what he's done here. I'd mention the fact that it's coming from a male point of view when the song seems to be coming from a much more traditionally feminine perspective, but the truth is, Prince has never been tied to any gender and that fact also manages to add another layer of depth to this. Because at the end of the day, what does gender have to do with it? It's a direct challenge to preconceived notions that while now a days is beginning to seem obvious, wasn't always so. Anyway, one more to round this out, which I just discovered, can't stop listening to and I think has become my favorite.

Ana Maoura's fado version is absolutely perfect to me. It's a no-brainer to take this song of longing and do it in a style that is all about longing. This really brings the atmosphere of someone drinking a case of bittersweet memories of their lover in a lonely tavern to life in a way none of the other versions do. I could feel all of these, but I can really see this one. I'm in that room. I'm drinking with her. I get it in a way that can't be explained. That's perfection and I could drink many cases of that shit.

Perfect (Cover) Songs - Killing Me Softly With His Song

A song about music. A cover of an often covered song about a song. A singer sings about a singer. A love letter to the art itself, containing a sample of a sample, perfectly smooth, confident and heartfelt soulful near acapella singing over a simple beat, deep (deep!) and yet clear bass from the heart of the ghetto, some chatter and a bizarre count that somehow doesn't take you out of the moment but incredibly puts you deeper into it. It's an insane mixture of elements in The Fugees take on Lori Lieberman's "Killing Me Softly" that somehow combine to make a perfect cover that in my mind, stands out as the definitive version.

Most people, likely including Lauryn Hill, know this as a Roberta Flack song. No doubt that's the most noted version and clearly the one that most influenced The Fugees, and honestly every other version, since Flack made many changes to the orginal's structure. The original by Lieberman has more of a longing melancholy to it, where as Flack's and most other subsequent versions, especially The Fugees, has a certain hope to it. The killing is one we submit to willingly. 

From the opening, full acapella of Lauryn's "strumming my pain with his fingers, singing my life with his words," before her voice multiplies into a choir, the hairs on your neck begin to stand. For starters, that voice is shear perfection in every sense. It's not intimidatingly grand, only because her warmth comes through and invites you. She doesn't sing at you from on high, so the "sings like an angel" cliche wouldn't even be appropriate. She comes from wherever you come and sings somehow from inside you, lifting you with it. It's a voice that embodies what soul, R&B and hip hop is supposed to be about. And then, before you know it, there's this odd sitar sample. It's from Rotary Connection's "Memory Band" but, of course many of us know it from A Tribe Called Quest's "Benita Applebaum." So why? Why use the same sample? Or did they actually sample Tribe? That's what I think. Because immediately comes the MC chatter from Wycleff, Pras and Lauryn over that simple beat that suggests a block party of some kind. Using a known sample like that is no accident. It's tribute.

By the time we get to the next chorus we get "one time" and "two times" and it doesn't feel out of place at all. At least not anymore. Maybe the first time I heard it seemed a little strange. But soon, it got to the point I couldn't imagine this song without that, no matter who sings it. It's ingrained in my head now so that it's just part of the actual lyrics. This song is somehow live and intimate at the same time, like the best music is supposed to be. It's a ballad, but it's a celebration. It's full of paradoxes that elevate the entire piece to perfection that doesn't fade. Hear it now and it's not dated, but still carries a powerful nostalgia to it. After all, in 96, it was everywhere. Oh, and that's right, it reminds you of the previous versions too. It's a song that's carries history in every way.

So, a word about the bass line. There's a sound, a feel, that I hunt for in music, which I've written about before. It's probably what audiophiles would call the warmth of vinyl or vintage equipment in general. I don't know. It could be. It's a feeling I remember from listening to music when I was a kid, either from my parents' stereo or my cousins' or anybody's. This bass that was deep, but not distorted. Loud but not overpowering. You could feel it, but it didn't necessarily shake the house apart like modern subwoofers can. It was a sound you felt and told me this was serious music I was listening to. That feel is in that bass line, and it somehow comes through even on modern equipment. I am no audio engineer or anything similar, so I don't understand how that's possible, but it is. And that, to me, is the ultimate hook of this song.  This takes it to a level that somehow makes the quality of the song itself ooze with the love for music that the lyrics are describing. Sure, the song can be about someone listening to song that seems to describe exactly the heartbreak they are going through. But this version takes that and adds a layer that subliminally celebrates the power of that situation. It's telling us that because something like that can happen, music can unite strangers. And at the same time is paying tribute to the music that united The Fugees and those of us listening. Or maybe, it's just a badass song. Either way, it's perfect.

2015 Week 18: Cover Story

In case you missed it, I posted this video on the Sound Affects Facebook page earlier this week after I saw it on a friend's page. This is a perfect cover that highlights how great the original song is, by being an even better interpretation of it. I outgrew Axl Rose's voice a long time ago. There was a time Guns N Roses was may favorite band, but over the years, I just can't listen to him. This, though, reminds me that all that aside, he's a good song writer. Anyway, the cover comes from Postmodern Jukebox and I'll be exploring the hell out of their youtube channel now.

So, I relaunched my old comics blog and renamed it Strange Orphan Boxes since it won't really about comics anymore. I just wanted someplace I can write about anything other than music. I posted a thing on Mad Men the other day, so go check it out. More to come.

After a rough patch finding new music to get excited about this week, I decided to make this week's playlist all covers. I went for more hard rock type covers, some old some new. Some of these I only just heard for the first time myself, others are favorites. I'm not sure if there's a theme or narrative that you could read into this, or not, so I leave that up to you, but it does seem to lead somewhere. I don't know. See if you can come up with a Cover Story.

Gender Songs

I've always liked a good cover song, but it's hard to say what it is that makes a cover good. On the one hand, it should bring something new to the song, but sometimes if it strays too far from the original it doesn't work at all. It doesn't really matter if it's a well known song or a completely obscure one, and in many cases, the cover has lead me to discover the original. But one constant that always intrigues me about covers is gender. It's safe to say that at least 99% of the time, if an artist is covering a song that was written in the voice of the opposite gender, they will change lyrics to fit their own. Girls change to boys, men change to women, etc, and vice versa. But way more interesting is when the cover artist doesn't change a thing. When a woman sings a song entirely from a man's point of view or a man from a woman's, it opens the whole thing up in a way that's not easily explained. In some cases, it's not even about the singer's gender at all and more about the gender of the person being sung about or to. A known gay artist singing an originally heterosexual themed song isn't necessary mind blowing, though it still fits in with what I'm talking about. More exciting to me, musically and lyrically, is when the cover artist is known to be heterosexual, yet secure enough to sing the song as originally written. That's where the magic can happen. The clearest example I can think of is The White Stripes doing Dolly Parton's "Jolene." There's no self consciousness there when Jack White begs Jolene "please don't take my man." It doesn't come off as campy and instead makes the raw emotion of the song stand out even more to me.

                              

One reason I think "Jolene" works so well is that it's a great song to begin with and Jack taps into the soul of the story within it. The pain of an insecure woman pleading with another woman, who is clearly more confident and attractive, not to destroy her home is undeniable. That a man is singing it really makes you pay attention to the fact that it would be unlikely, in our culture, for this exchange to happen between two men and makes the entire situation that much more powerful. My dad used to play the original Dolly Parton version when I was growing up, and I never thought twice about it, but now I hear the original, after hearing this version, and I can't help but think of the fact that both Jolene and the singer are living in this misogynist world where they are reduced to fighting over a man who is clearly using them both. And beyond that, the fact their society has them at odds against each other based on the value put on Jolene's looks. And that idea takes me to the fact that in my search for this type of cover, it's so much rarer to find a man singing from a woman's perspective than the other way around. It seems like it's less acceptable for a man to give up his identity to a song than it is for a woman (Maybe. I might be stretching here.). So it's interesting that the next song that comes to mind is also by Jack White.

In September of 2006, I saw the Raconteurs play during their first tour. It was the first time I'd see Jack live during a time that I rarely even listened to anyone else, so I was excited. But by far, the best part of the show, and to this day, one of the greatest moments I've ever had at any show, was when they went into a song and I immediately knew what it was, even though I'd never heard them play it. I recognized the guitar riff and had chills because ever since I first heard the song, having heard "Jolene," I thought Jack should cover it, and here he was, doing just that. And the song was "Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down)" which I only much later learned was originally by Cher, but the version most people know and I absolutely love is by Nancy Sinatra, which I first heard in Kill Bill.

               

Ever since then, I've found dozens of covers of this song, including Stevie Wonder and Frank Sinatra, but they all change the gender. While the song is just as cool, either way, I just find that if sung from a female perspective it works much better (though Sinatra's version does make it feel like it's right out of a film Noir musical). There's something about that "I was 5 and he was 6" line coupled with that twang that just sets a scene in a way that "she was 6" just doesn't do. I can't even explain why.

Anyway, there are tons of covers by women fitting this mode, from Cyndi Lauper covering Prince's "When You Were Mine" to Amy Winehouse doing "Valerie" by The Zutons. There are songs I'd like to hear done by guys, unironically, like Heart's "Magic Man" or "Precious Things" by Tori Amos. It's the type of thing I would do if I were a singer. In the meantime, I've started a Spotify playlist with every cover I can find on there that fits. Here it is. Subscribe to it because I hope to add more as I find them and if you know of any, please send them my way.