Perfect (Cover) Songs - Paris Summer

A lot of great songs are discovered as covers, but we usually become so accustomed to the cover that hearing the original can be jarring. In the case of this song, I had heard the cover first and instantly fell in love with the song and, yet, once I found the original, I was blown away that I hadn't already been deep into Lee Hazelwood's work with Nancy Sinatra. I knew her stuff, and had heard his name, but didn't really know anything beyond that. But I was deeply into The Last Shadow Puppets' first album, Age of the Understatement with it's dark, retro and vaguely cinematic feel. I was hunting for anything that had that sound, from them or anyone else - a sound I've since learned has been put under the genre Baroque Pop. So I dug into the b-sides of this side project from The Arctic Monkeys' Alex Turner and Miles Kane, and found a live performance of a song called "Paris Summer" featuring The Kills' Allison Mosshart.

I mean, come on. That's just awesome. The mood, the narrative, the music, the twang, all of it. The back and forth vocals was something The Last Shadow Puppets were making their thing, but here, the way it supports the story of the song, painting a vivid picture of this forbidden, adulterous affair in the city of romance is just breathtaking. And who's better than Allison Mosshart? I had to find the original of this song and I was not disappointed when I did.

Lee Hazelwood's low droning voice can be a little hard to get into, I get that. But it's precisely what I think makes his work with Nancy Sinatra so great. Their voices compliment and contrast each other at the same time. While the original doesn't have the twangy guitar of the Shadow Puppets, the orchestration is deep and dynamic in a way that made me want to dig more into Hazlewood.

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 (Cover) Songs - Don't Worry Baby

Today I'm going to talk about a cover song that manages to bring to life both sides of the story in a way that is breathtaking to say the least, forever changing the original for me. This cover really epitomizes what this blog was meant to be about, even though I have strayed away from that many times. When Rachel Fannan's cover of The Beach Boys' "Don't Worry Baby" dropped, back in May, I heard it about 12 times in a row, each time wishing it wouldn't end. Produced by The Ravonettes Sune Rose Wagner, this version is less doo wop-y and more twangy with a lot of bottom and reverb as you'd expect from The Ravonettes, but more subdued and even airy. It's nostalgic and retro but in a way that glues it to the meaning of the lyrics and gives the song a new purpose beyond just being a retread. Basically, it's a perfect cover.

It's important to note that this cover is part of a series from Instant Records called Instant Love, where every two weeks different artists, all female, record a famous love song keeping the gender between women. In their own words: "INSTANT LOVE supports feminism, girl power, and the LGBTQ community." So, go check that out.

I can't fault the Beach Boy's original. It was always one of my favorites of theirs, though not my number one. But in comparison to this version, their sweet song comes off somewhat rushed and typical of a teenage boy who doesn't quite know how to express himself, which actually kind of makes it brilliant in it's own way (yet another reason this cover is great is that it has actually made me reevaluate and find new appreciation for the original). After all, this is really just a hot rod song about a guy worried about a drag race and how his girl calms him down. This is all well and good, but Rachel Fannan's delivery here is more focused on how her lover makes her feel and it's absorbingly believable to the point that the same words Brian Wilson sang, now sung by Rachel, somehow make the lovers completely three dimensional and the emotion is palpable. Where the Beach Boys gave us a beautiful song, Fannan is giving us a blissful soliloquy wrapped in a breathless sigh of ecstasy. Every time I hear her sing "Oh what she does to me when she makes love to me and she says 'don't worry baby'" with the hint of a smile (remembering or emulating the way she said it?), I get chills. Every single time. I can see her eyes twinkle thinking of her girl and beyond that, I think I understand why, because the way she quotes her, the obvious reverence and awe in her delivery, brings her lover to life. This is not the sort of thing I can put my finger on, but I don't have to. Just listen and feel. It's perfect.

By the way, this is the first time I've written about the same artist twice as a perfect song. In this case, both the Beach Boys (for "God Only Knows") and Rachel Fannan (with Only You for "The Pressure") have made an appearance.

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.