I Go To Sleep

I forget how the conversation started, but a friend remarked that he found an interesting Pretenders cover of the Sia song “I Go To Sleep.” Unfortunately, he got things a bit inside-out.

While the Sia version is incredible, it’s not original to her. And, no, it wasn’t a Pretenders original either, although they are known for the song and Chrissy Hynds’ vocals on that version are stunning.

The song began with The Kinks. In 1965. Over 15 years prior to the Pretenders and more than 40 years before Sia recorded her version.

It’s really a pretty simple song, driven entirely by vocals over sparse, almost background, instrumentation. The Kinks original, clocking in around 2:45, was just piano and vocals, nothing more. Hearing Ray and Dave doing vocals sounds a bit unusual when you’re used to Chrissy Hynds singing it.

Cher did a version in 1965. It has bit more going on, musically, with guitar, bass, drums and even a tambourine. This all causes Cher to turn it up slightly lending more power to her vocals. Yet through all that, it sticks fairly close to the Kinks original.

There’s also a 1965 rendition by Peggy Lee. It sounds a lot like Cher’s version, but without some of the vocal power. Say what you will about Cher, but the lady’s got a set of pipes and Lee’s don’t quite match up.

With several fairly unremarkable remakes happening in 1966, the next notable one is the Pretenders 1981 cover, which many consider the definitive, if not original version of the song. Gentle horns replace the piano backer from the original, and it sounds as though they belonged there the whole time. They’re perfect. Couple that with Chrissy Hynds’ voice and what you have is simply beautiful.

To show how big an impression the Pretenders version made, in 2000 a band called Bed Sores contributed a version of the song on an album called “A Salute to the Pretenders.” It gets a little heavy-handed, but isn’t bad, worth at least a sample listen in the iTunes store.

In 1998 brought an alternative take by Soulwax. I can only describe it as awful; only appropriate for background music during some movie scene where someone gets rufied. You know the scene. It’s the one where we’re supposedly looking through the victim’s eyes as they float, slow-motion, almost dreamlike, through a crowded room where nobody notices or tries to help them. They wake up the next day wondering where they are and what happened. I’m imagining that’s how Tracy Bonham, whom I usually like, came to be associated with it. She should insist that her name be expunged from all records and references to the song as it simply does not do her justice. She should also call the police.

A couple that are worth checking out via iTunes are the 2006 rendition by Judith Owen and a 2009 version by Works Progress Administration (WPA.) The Owen remake is almost sleepy-slow, and her voice isn’t as strong as Hynds’ or Sia’s, but it’s certainly worth a listen. WPA offers up a languid rendition with some country twinges. It’s not bad, worth the 90 seconds to sample.

I’m taking this one out of order, because I want to save the best for last. As if one awful, train-wreck of a version wasn’t enough, another alternative artist, Anika, put out a version in 2010 that can only be a cover of the Soulwax disaster. A cover of a cover. A cover of a bad cover. I’ve seen a remake of a remake work before, but you have to be careful. Start with a decent version if you’re going to create a once-removed knock-off.

Finally. Finally! We come to the 2007/2008 version(s) by Zero 7 and Sia. I group them together because Sia did the vocals on the 2007 rendition by Zero 7, then released it on her own 2008 solo album “Some People Have Real Problems.” Sia’s vocals are so heartfelt you almost want to cry by the end of the song. I have no idea the original intent of the lyrics, but these leave me thinking about lost love. Someone that’s gone and never coming back, whether from a tragic accident or a horrible breakup. This really is a stunning song performed by an incredible singer. Go see her in concert and be even more amazed, this petite woman with a planetary sized voice belts it out for every song.

For me, the must-haves are both Sia’s version and the Pretenders release.

Rudy, A Message To You

Most folks my age are more familiar with “A Message to You, Rudy” in the form of a 1979 cover version by The Specials. Little do we realize that it was originally a 1967 rocksteady song by Dandy Livingstone.

Livingstone’s original never really made it on the charts, but the nearly identical version by the Specials, some 12 years later, made #10 on the UK chart and got some play in the US.

The Specials version starts with a drum-fill solo, but from there it’s hard to tell the two apart. They both feature the same trombone player, Ricco Rodriguez, although more prominently on the Specials cover, where the 1967 original brings the saxophone part forward for the bridge.

Lyrically, the two versions differ only slightly, but both have the same underlying sentiment: stop messing about around town and straighten up. If anything, I’d say that Livingstone was a smoother singer, where the Specials employ more of a group effort through the song. Livingstone’s singing gives the song an easier feel and somehow it sounds longer, although they’re both fundamentally the same length.

Here’s a video from Old Grey Whistle Test:

While I’ve spent my time concentrating on the two main versions of the song, I’d be remiss if I skipped other renditions I found along the way.

First there was the live performance by Joe Strummer and the Mescaleros ca. 1992. I’ve got a lot of respect for Strummer, from his days in The Clash as well as his work with The Pogues, and The Mescaleros. Their version of “A Message to You, Rudy” can only be described as loose – the long night of drinking kind of loose – but not automatically bad.

Then I happened across a 1992 live version by Billy Bragg. It’s smooth and slow, much like Livingstone’s original. I actually quite like it for what it is.
Along the way I also discovered live versions by Amy Winehouse (awful, off-key), Peter Doherty (not half bad, acoustic, worth a listen), and hardcore punk act The Dead Milkmen (interesting, not punked out in the least.)

As much as I grew up on the Specials version of the song, the original by Dandy Livingstone is the winner in my book. It has a nice feel to it that’s really quite charming.

It’s Only A Paper Moon

Jazz standards have that name, standards, for a reason. Practically everyone knows them and can, quite possibly, sing them from off the top of their head. Yet “It’s Only a Paper Moon,” written in 1933, managed to surprise me.

I knew there were several renditions of the song, in nearly 80 years there would have to be, but I wasn’t prepared for just how many people have recorded the song over the years. Searching Wikipedia and Allmusic quickly revealed more than 80 versions, while secondhandsongs.com lists 61 versions, many with audio samples. Some artists were no great surprise (Nat King Cole, Mel Torme, Tony Bennett, Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby) others were unexpected, to say the least (James Taylor, Miles Davis, Fiona Apple, Over the Rhine, Marvin Gaye, Adam Ant); almost as numerous and varied selection as “Mack the Knife.”

E. Y. Harburg and Billy Rose wrote the lyrics for music by Harold Arlen for a Broadway play called The Great Magoo. The play was unsuccessful, yet the song remains a staple to this day. After it’s 1933 release, there was a 12-year gap until Ella Fitzgerald, Nat King Cole, and Benny Goodman all did versions in 1945. Since then, it’s been recorded by someone every few years; as true testament to staying power as I’ve ever seen.

Every version I listened to was pretty much the same, sticking to the original lyrics and music. A few played with the arrangement a bit, but most opted to keep it straight even there. Notable exceptions were Adam Ant, who went completely kitschy, lounge-esque, and not with good effect and James Taylor who somehow kept the underpinnings of the original, yet made it unmistakably a James Taylor song. Miles Davis and Herb Alpert each do trumpet-centric instrumental versions, Alpert’s taking it in about double-time. The Count Basie and Dave Brubeck recordings sound exactly as you would expect, very much in their own styles.

One of my favorite covers (if we’re to call an updated standard a cover) is by Erin McKeown on her album Sing you Sinners. Truthfully, the whole album knocks me out, but then I’ve developed a penchant for jazz classics and big band material. Short of Adam Ant’s bizarre take, McKeown’s rendition does the most with the arrangement, speeding it up a bit, adding a snappy, but not over the top drum part, and subtle guitar line that takes a bit of a vibraphone cast to it. Add her voice, which I simply can’t get enough of, and you have the best version of the song in it’s 75+ year history.

Jump Jive an’ Wail

Take a gifted performer from the 50s (Louis Prima), cross it with a TV commercial (Gap’s 1997 “Khakis Swing” spot), and you get a winning brand, musical revival, and lifestyle all in one.

I’m talking about Louis Prima’s “Jump, Jive, an’ Wail.”
Originally released on Prima’s 1957 album The Wildest!, Brian Setzer did a spectacular cover of the song for his 1998 releaseThe Dirty Boogie.

Swing, both the music and dance style were undergoing a minor resurgence when GAP used the Louis Prima version of the song in a 30-second commercial. From there, things just sort of took off.

Both the original and cover versions are driven almost entirely by the horn part and vocals. Prima fills in with piano and string bass where Setzer punches up the string bass and drops the piano for a sizzling guitar part. No surprise, given Brian Setzer’s considerable guitar talent.
The two versions are essentially twins, and for the first 1:45 they are. After that, they break away from each other (see the timeline below).

Audio Timeline

Prima’s original runs an extra 30 seconds before the outro, adding a piano solo, swapping the order of the final verse and a chorus, and a horn call and response. Setzer runs the two final verses back to back, triples up the last chorus, and leaves out the call and response part. It was interesting to listen to the two versions side by side, having run them through some audio editing software to get them to start at the same time.

It’s impossible to pick a winner here. They are, for all practical purposes, identical. A true reproduction. It really comes down to whether you prefer the traditional big-band sound, or would rather have a modernized version with a bit of guitar shredding.

There are several bands, neo-swing acts, who might not have had careers had it not been for the one commercial. Would bands like Big Bad Voodoo Daddy, Squirrel Nut Zippers, and countless local/regional bands, have become personal favorites if khakis didn’t swing? I may have gotten there eventually, but it unlikely wouldn’t have been as soon.

Hurt

My appreciation for Johnny Cash comes more recently than to other folks. Sure, I got into a couple of his songs over the years, but never to the degree that I had with other bands/songs. But then he began to reach out a bit, releasing a series of albums that were essentially all covers of classics and more modern work.

The whole series of albums are absolutely great. Must-haves for any collection. But American IV: The Man Comes Around truly stands out for me, almost entirely due to one song.

Cash’s version of “Hurt,” originally released by Nine Inch Nails on Downward Spiral, is positively stunning.

Lyrically, he stays very close to the Nine Inch Nails version with the single exception: “crown of shit” is changed to “crown of thorns,” but otherwise it’s right on. Yet at the same time that’s where the similarities end.

The NIN version comes across as frustrated and angry about the state of the world. With its sparse instrumentation – not much more than a guitar and his voice – Cash departs from the original. He gives the song a melancholy, almost remorseful, look back at where his life has been. The video only seems to reinforce that feeling of regret and sorrow.
Although it seems unlikely to find beauty in the heartache of Cash’s cover, it’s there; laid bare for the whole world to see.

NIN’s front man, Trent Reznor, has said “…that song isn’t mine any more…” in reaction to Cash’s remake and the corresponding video. I find myself in complete agreement. Cash truly made the song his own, stripping it down, leaving just raw emotion.

Listen to both versions back to back. Compare them for yourself. Knowing what we do of Cash’s life, concentrate on the words, they’re enough to make you cry.

May we never know such sorrow in our own lives.

Introduction

We should start at the beginning, with a question, “What is a cover song?”
A cover song, or cover version, is a new recording or performance of a song that was previously recorded and commercially released by someone else. Simply put, a cover song is a remake.

The term cover song was originally coined, likely as a pejorative, in reaction to record label practices at the time. In an attempt to cash in on another label’s success, companies would hire their own band to create a sound-alike version of a popular song. Some resorted to deceptive packaging to trick people into thinking they were getting the real thing and not some cheap knock-off.

I believe that cover songs have matured beyond their questionable, even seedy, beginnings. Judge not a cover song simply because it mimics another, but give it room to grow, to come into its own. Modern covers are worthy of consideration in their own right, perhaps even as tributes to the original songs or artists.

Cover songs come in two main varieties: loving reproductions and total renovations. There’s a third category, a sort of kissin’ cousin to our primary types, steadfast revivals. (Check the colophon for working definitions of these three categories.)

Along the way I hope to entertain, enlighten, and maybe even hip you to something you haven’t heard before.

Feedback is welcome, you’ll find me on Twitter as @etherdust, email to michael at coversongs dot fm, or post something on your own site and link back here.