I didn’t know until today that Judy Collins first covered Bob Dylan‘s then-unreleased song “I’ll Keep it With Mine” in 1965. I’ve never heard her version, but whoever got the song on the road to the version that I first learned through Fairport Convention‘s chilling take had both ears and vision.
Next, sometime in sophomore year in college, I heard the Nico version, clearly guided by the sensibilities of her producer John Cale. I believe this preceded Fairport’s version, so Mad props! to Nico.
Finally, a few years later, I heard Dylan’s demo. Like a few other Dylan demos that were turned into great covers (eg, “Quinn the Eskimo,” by Manfred Mann; “One Too Many Mornings,” by the Beau Brummels), I was stunned anyone could hear anything of great worth in the song. It’s OK, but his performance indicates little focus or drama. Can you imagine hearing this acetate and wanting to run with it the way Fairport Convention and Nico did? Check it out…Continue reading »
We’ve danced around this issue for too long: Which version of “Blinded by the Light” do you like better, Manfred Mann & The Earth Band‘s hit version or The Boss‘ original?
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Be honest. There’s nothing to be gained by trying to find the “cool” answer.
If you need a refresher on these versions, check out each version…after the jump!
I’m not sure when this convention began, but that molasses-slow version of “Sweet Jane” from the 1980s by that Canadian band that recorded in a church is the first example of the phenomenon that made such a bad impression on me.
Why is it considered a good idea to cover a galloping or charging rock ‘n roll song at a third of the original’s speed? Was I previously not capable of getting the drama of the lyrics at the song’s original pace? Do artists think we’re, you know, “slow?”
I know some of you like Cowboy Junkies‘—that’s the band whose name I couldn’t remember—take on “Sweet Jane.” I can’t count that. Does the molasses cover EVER improve on the original?
In response to our recent thread asking us to imagine what a once-planned double-album Monkees release showcasing each band member’s individual personality per side, Townsman mrclean recently shared the following observation and proposed an excellent thread, to follow. Check it out:
An online acquaintance of mine stated: ‘You know, I could totally hear—and I mean this in a really good way—the Buzzcocks and the Monkees swapping songs.’ For the record, I can agree with that.
What two artists/bands do you think were meant to swap songs?
Popular music discussion blog Rock Town Hall has awarded one of its very own Townspeople, andyr, its second annual Rock Badge of Courage for his live vocal performance of Pink Floyd’s “Comfortably Numb” at a recent show by the Narberth, Pennsylvania–based cover band extraordinaire Narband.
You may recall our initial Rock Badge of Courage recipient, Bruce Springsteen, for his performance of “Born in the USA.” The Rock Badge of Courage is the highest artistic decoration awarded by Rock Town Hall, even higher than induction in the Hall’s Foyer of Fame. It is bestowed on musicians who distinguish themselves “conspicuously by gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his or her artistic cred above and beyond the call of duty while engaged in an action against The Man, apathetic bandmates, or any other enemy of The Power & Glory of Rock.” Springsteen’s award required little explanation, but andyr’s may require some context.
I’ve counted andyr as a “close personal friend” for 40 years. Not once, in all those years and countless musical discussions and experiences has he ever expressed even the slightest admiration for anything related to Pink Floyd. Trust me, he’s a cool guy and typically has great taste in music, but he doesn’t even care for the Syd Barrett stuff or the song “Wish You Were Here.” He even finds the good in stuff a lot of us might think is crap, provided it has cool drum and bass parts, but he may be the only music lover I know who hasn’t at least acknowledged that “Floyd has some cool album covers.” Even E. Pluribus Gergely would grant the band a cool album cover or two. The man has been steadfast in his refusal to enjoy a single thing about Pink Floyd.
Then, no more than 2 months ago, a musical mission was hatched that would test andyr’s rock courage like no test before. He and Townsman Sethro, another one of my longtime bandmates and close personal friends, were asked to join Narband, led by another Townsman, ace guitarist Buddy Whelan and a mutual friend of Whelan and our Rock Badge of Courage recipient who lacks, as far as I know, an RTH handle. Andyr was a little anxious but excited to cram for 2 sets’ worth of mostly Classic Rock and early ’80s new wave hits—especially with his trusty drummer buddy at his back—but one song on the proposed set list caused beads of sweat to form on his brow even as he discussed it with us at rehearsal one night: Pink Floyd’s “Comfortably Numb.”
I’d like to propose a new RTH Glossary entry, the Retirement Fund Song (aka Rock IRA). Now I would never dare think that artists as idiosyncratic and with as much integrity as Van Morrison and Lou Reed would ever consciously write a song with the goal of funding their retirement, but by chance they have succeeded wildly with “Have I Told You Lately That I Love You” and “Perfect Day,” respectively. Think of all the special occasions folks will attach to those songs. Think of all the times those songs will be covered by a diverse set of artists. Think of the royalties those covers will generate.
Perhaps the original rock ‘n roll Retirement Fund Song was The Beatles‘ “Yesterday,” written and performed almost solely by Paul McCartney but powerful enough to fund the planned retirement of his songwriting partner John Lennon. Again, I have no reason to believe Paul consciously wrote “Yesterday” with retirement in mind, but in these tough economic times I can imagine today’s rockers feeling more apt to plan ahead.
To help a future generations of retired rockers, can we define the makings of a Retirement Fund Song (as opposed to any old “hit song”)? For instance, it would seem obvious that the song must be easy for other artists to cover and be romantic and/or nostalgic in lyrical content, but let’s get down to brass tacks. Let’s map out a rock ‘n roll retirement strategy around a legacy-making song that should be a part of the catalog of any artist with an eye toward a second vacation home.
Last night, Mr. Royale and I joined some friends to hear a couple of tribute bands. First up, a Rolling Stones cover band with a very spry Jagger impersonator. Then, the Led Zeppelin tribute band.
In general, I’m not a big fan of tribute bands but in the case of these bands, for which I am highly unlikely to fork over big bucks to see the remaining members totter around and play their hits from 30 or 40 years ago, this was something entertaining to do. Eighteen dollars seemed a decent price to pay to listen to some renditions of music I enjoy.
I have to admit I haven’t been to see a tribute band since, say, 1981, when I went with a friend to Arizona State University to hear whatever was the touring version of the “Beatles.” So I assumed that the gig would include some guys dressed up and aping the mannerisms of their chosen band.
Instead, we were treated to the oddist mixture of spectacle and fakery. The members were dressed up to look like the original musicians, circa 1974 or so: long-haired wigs, unbuttoned polyester shirts or suits, turquoise jewelry. And they played instruments (to my untrained eye) that also resembled those of Jimmy Page, John Paul Jones, and John Bonham. But it was the lead singer who broke my heart. While he wore the long, blond locks and the tight, tight jeans of Robert Plant, and sang with an impressive range of vocal technique, when he opened his mouth to talk, he lost me. I believe we were listening to the Joey Buttafuoco Robert Plant. Although he professed to be Robert Plant, that accent, most notable when pronouncing the /r/ sound, was just too distracting. Mr. Royale, being kinder than me, believes that it was his English accent. Ha! And then the moves. Mr. “Plant” had only four: the “Stretch the Microphone Chord Over the Head,” the “Lemon Thrust,” the “Hair Toss” and the “Modified Rock Iwo Jima.” It was tiring and lacked any sense of sex appeal.
Granted, I’ve been a few times to see a local ’80s cover band. That band seemed to not take themselves very seriously, and in spite of their Worst-of-the-1980s’ fashion stylings, were highly enjoyable.
Please help me here. How important is it for the tribute musicians to look and sound like the originals? Are you able to get past the imperfections of appearance or mannerisms in the show? Is it really only the sound that matters? What is the difference between a cover band and a tribute band?
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