Showing posts with label David Bowie. Show all posts
Showing posts with label David Bowie. Show all posts

Monday, 23 January 2012

Cover Songs : Walking The Tightrope

A song is anything that can walk by itself – Bob Dylan

In order to create a good song, a song that connects with others and somehow manages to tap into the common consciousness of a moment and become worthy of adoption by the populace as a theme tune to their lives, it is usually necessary for the songwriter to give a little of their soul to the cause. In writing a song, the writer is offering the chance for others to have a small window into their innermost core, they are laying themselves bare for scrutiny, for rejection, and making a gamble as to whether others can tap into whatever emotion they have chosen to make public.

As a result of all these factors and emotional investments, the act of covering someone else’s song is therefore something that should not be taken lightly, and goes a little way to explaining why cover versions can often sound cheap and lifeless. It is one thing for an artist or band to take a song and inject their own twist on the emotions and words originally presented, bringing to the table a whole new wealth of experience and delivering the piece and it’s history to a whole new genre and audience, but when we see (as we so often do), songs which are covered purely for financial gain and an easy ‘hit’, it is somewhat disheartening to see someone’s personal efforts cheapened and churned out like a soulless business transaction. You can almost picture the sterile business meeting that has occurred among the big-wigs of the record label, propositioning a new talentless artist with a masterpiece of yesteryear with little or no regard for the piece of art as personal property, no consideration for the life events, emotions or people who played a part in the original inspiration of the song. No thought for the moment in time where those words and ideas were first scratched upon paper and set free like a caged bird to find their own way in the world.

Putting a song out there for public consumption must be a great yet terrifying act of faith, and in doing so one must hope that their brainchild is treated with respect. It is a shame therefore, that often the songwriter loses all ownership of their work and it is often down to the people in suits to decide where, and being sung from whose mouths, these fragments of themselves will end up.

With these thoughts in mind, I have been compiling a list of cover versions which I believe do the original songs (and their writers) justice, and others for which the motives and the finished piece sound more as though they have taken a piece of genius and aggressively stamped all over it, reducing it to a mere one-dimensional version of it’s original self. However, that is not to say that a cover version does not have the potential to completely outshine the original and provide it with something that it was previously lacking, as though the second set of hands it falls into are able to have a strange insight into what the original required in order to take it to a whole new level. On these occasions, it is as though a number of factors have been brought into perfect alignment, serving to demonstrate a global level of understanding between human beings; that people from different eras and backgrounds can somehow work together to make something incredible.

Below I give mention to six songs; three of them being brilliant covers, and three not so great. In compiling this collection I was pleasantly surprised to note that I found it much easier to think of the positive examples (possibly due to the choice to ignore anything related to the X Factor as they are too big an offender to even begin discussing, or because one probably represses the memory of hearing a song they know and love being absolutely disrespected). Also, it is worth mentioning that while Bob Dylan’s work does not appear in this list, his incredible song writing has ensured for a number of brilliant (and not so) covers over the last forty years, however it is simply that there is not one song in particular that I could decide upon to discuss below.

Three brilliant cover versions;

Placebo – Running Up That Hill (Kate Bush)
As one notes when observing a great songwriter like Kate Bush, the potential for a brilliant cover version is already heightened due to the quality and malleability of the original piece. Placebo’s version of Running Up That Hill is incredible, adding a whole new dark and brooding twist to the song, with Brian Molko’s delivery of the line ‘make a deal with God’ sounding more like he is making a pact with the devil. The thunderous electrical take on the piano and drums ensure this cover sounds a lot more downbeat than the original, a lot more pained, as though a fresh input of suffering is being filtered through each and every note in the struggle to understand the person that the protagonist has fallen in love with, but the fact that they are of a different gender makes this empathy so difficult.

The White Stripes – Jolene (Dolly Parton)
It is always great when a cover version completely surpasses its original genre, as this is the most likely way for a song to reach an entirely new audience. The White Stripes are quite the masters at the art of brilliant cover versions, partly due to the respect with which they treat the original, and because of Jack White’s desire to nod to various influences in a respectful manner. It is always amazing when a cover manages to bring light and excitement to a song which perhaps, would have otherwise gone unappreciated by many people due to the nature and genre of the original. What The White Stripes have achieved here, is getting a new generation of music lovers singing a country song from 1974 at the top of their lungs, indulging in the heartfelt pain of a wife singing to her husband’s mistress not to steal him from her.

Johnny Cash – Hurt (Nine Inch Nails)
Johnny Cash’s take on the 1995 song by Nine Inch Nails has got to be one of the finest examples of how songs have the potential to be approached from an entirely different angle, thus giving the words and sentiments entirely new perspective and meaning. For example, hearing the words “I hurt myself today, to see if I still feel”, sung by a thirty year old has an incredibly different effect than by a man of seventy one with severe health problems and – in hindsight – only several months to live. The power and emotion behind Johnny Cash’s performance in this song is so potent it can reduce you to tears; the fact that he wasn’t the one to actually write the words seems entirely irrelevant, for what he brings to the table is so much more. The great genius of this song also lies in the fact it was somewhat unknown in its original state, particularly in the UK, and Johnny Cash has taken what was otherwise a far from outstanding song and made it into four minutes of utter magic, and an ode to the vulnerability and mortality of human existence.

(During the research for this piece I also discovered that Leona Lewis recorded a cover of this song in a vain attempt at Christmas number one last year. While I hope I never hear it, this goes to demonstrate the thoughtlessness and lack of respect that can so often exist when it comes to selecting a song to cover. What on earth could a twenty-six year old who’s been handed the world on a plate ever bring to this song?)

Three questionable cover versions;

Mark Ronson ft. Daniel Merriweather – Stop Me If You Think You’ve Heard This One Before (The Smiths)
An incredibly insulting cover, particularly when one considers that Daniel Merriweather is on record as saying he was entirely unfamiliar with the original song and that he was ‘never a Smiths fan’; so why does he feel he has the right to ruin it for everyone else? A prime example of a song which has been covered, and in the act of doing so, any emotion or weight that the original carried has been duly compressed into a flat piece of ‘sound’ for consumption by the iTunes generation. The concept of bringing disco vibes to a song by The Smiths should surely have been shot down at the first hurdle (and as I have mentioned before, a change of genre is brilliant when covering…if it works, which this explicitly does not). One must surely hope that if Morrissey had been given any say in the matter, he would have prevented it from happening and released a tirade of insults on Mark Ronson and his one-man quest to cover every song ever written (on the subject of which, what was Valerie all about? It wasn’t even a good song in the first place).

David Bowie – Across The Universe (The Beatles)
Perhaps an odd choice, but I chose this example because it demonstrates how, even when a number of great things come together on paper and it looks as though something good could come of it, the reality is often very different. Now you could argue that the fault here lies in an attempt of covering a song by The Beatles (which is obviously never a good idea), however as a huge fan of both them and David Bowie, upon first sitting down to listen to this song I was guilty of anticipating something wonderful - particularly when one considers John Lennon is actually featured on Bowie’s version, and it was done entirely with his blessing. However, what ensues is actually an absolute atrocity, and I warn you now; never listen to this version. Much to my dismay, it not only provides an incredibly unpleasant listening experience, but it has also ruined the original for me. The effects are that far-reaching. It’s hard to put one’s finger on exactly what is so offensive about this song, but what it does demonstrate is that the volatile nature of covering another man’s art means that some kind of unfathomable alignment needs to occur for it to pay off, and even when every other factor is seemingly in place, success is far from guaranteed.

Ed Sheeran – Skinny Love (Bon Iver)
Now, without this blog turning into a hate campaign against Ed Sheeran, I simply had to include this example as it best represents the crime of covering another’s song but leaving absolutely no trace or stamp of personality on it, thus rendering the whole experience utterly pointless. Therefore, what Ed Sheeran has chosen to do with his cover, is inflict a lot of unpleasantness on others for no real purpose. Bon Iver’s original from 2007 is a truly magical song, and it is incredibly insulting to hear Ed Sheeran dilute it to a level of disposable trash, with the usual jerky guitar and croaky voice that we have heard a million times from his like before.


One of the cover songs’ most wonderful qualities is also its downfall. While, when done correctly, a cover version could inspire the listener to hunt down the original and thus open the possibility of discovering a new band, artist or album that they would have otherwise been unaware of, they also have the ability to lead people to believe the version they hear is the only one in existence. Imagine a whole new generation being brought up to think that Hallelujah is a song by Alexandra Burke. I just hope that any one with a vague amount of interest in music will have done their homework and learnt that such things are simply untrue.

To return to the Bob Dylan quote at the beginning of this entry; “a song is anything that can walk by itself”, this illustrates that a good song has the power to head out into the world and carve it’s own journey, have it’s own experiences and take on a life of it’s own apart from that of the original creator. I believe that good songs are not written, but they are given as a gift to the songwriter, that the person in question was at the right place at the right time and were subsequently able to channel something from the universe in order to convert an emotion or experience into musical format. While this maybe an incredibly romanticised way to view the whole thing, it does mean that anyone who chooses to cover a song should not take the decision lightly for it is a huge responsibility, and to abuse the song’s trust is simply criminal.

Here is Johnny Cash with Hurt: 

Monday, 7 November 2011

A Cover Speaks A Thousand Words.

Well, we're big rock singers
We've got golden fingers
And we're loved everywhere we go.
We sing about beauty and we sing about truth
For ten-thousand dollars a show.
We take all kinds of pills that give us all kind of thrills
But the thrill we've never known,
Is the thrill that'll get ya when you get your picture
On the cover of the Rolling Stone.

From the humble beginnings of Rolling Stone magazine back in November 1967, right until the present day, making the cover has been considered one of the biggest honours one could be bestowed with in the music industry. Widely respected as ‘the most influential magazine in pop culture’, having your face emblazoned across its prestigious shell is a sign of widespread success, and often occurs at a time when a band or artist is riding the crest of an extremely powerful tidal wave which is about to impact mainstream culture like a tsunami upon the shore.

For several years now, it has been a bit of a habit of mine to check out the latest cover, or indeed spend much time absorbing all the wonderful photographs and articles that can be found on the Rolling Stone website, discussing a range of areas from music to politics, films and reviews. However, I was somewhat disheartened and disgusted when in March this year, from the very same platform that we have seen the likes of John Lennon, Bob Dylan and David Bowie redefining the music industry itself with their unfathomable cool and all-encompassing charisma which refuses to be restrained even by a two-dimensional image, there was to be found an undeserved, young and sickly sweet image of Justin Bieber.

A leather jacket slung around his shoulders, the tag line being “Justin Bieber talks sex, politics, abortion and of course, music”, it must be said that this whole affair did make me feel rather nauseous. How could the wonderful people at Rolling Stone possibly undermine the prestigious honour that has, for so long, been the benchmark of success and the epitome of ‘cool’? The sad fact being that Rolling Stone pride themselves on being there to acknowledge and present what is happening at a particular moment in time, and therefore, in March 2011, they adorned their glossy skin with the concept that is ‘Justin Bieber’ and subsequently disrespected everyone with an ounce of talent who has ever appeared before him.

At times like this, all one can do is take quiet satisfaction from the fact that previous Rolling Stone employee and crusader for a no-bullshit music press; Lester Bangs, was never alive to see this happen. Oh, and that Hunter S. Thompson put that gun to his head at just the right time.

Here are some of my favourite covers from the past forty (or so) years :




















Thursday, 13 October 2011

A Lesson In Self-Respect.

Sometimes I wonder whether David Bowie can do no wrong.

Perhaps he has a lot to thank for his origins on a far away planet – from which he descended to brighten up our world in the late 60s – as they have served him well in avoiding any of the usual human slip-ups or falls from dignity and grace that many aging stars of his generation or later, seem unable to resist succumbing to.

With this observation, I seek not to clarify how amazing Bowie’s musical contributions are (for this is now as widely accepted as the laws of science), or indeed how the revolution he bestowed upon us in the 1970s continues to reverberate around the music and fashion industries with a deafening roar. No. Today what I hope to get across is that it’s the decisions that he has made since this time that make him so worthy of respect and admiration, whilst simultaneously ensuring that all that he achieved before seems even better.


As we are constantly made aware these days by musicians who are somewhat less dignified with their aging, the 21st century is a time with temptation and empty promises around every corner, waiting to trap and lure the icons of yesteryear. I need only mention the names of Iggy Pop, Axl Rose and Joan Jett in order to paint an image of degrading advertisement deals, shameless flogging of a band that's been unrecognisable and irrelevant for twenty years and copious amounts of plastic surgery – paths all too often taken by the once adored, successfully undermining any reverence or respect that they once commanded.

It is at the opposite end of this spectrum that we find Bowie, holding music with the highest respect and refusing to let any foolish endeavours of later life tarnish the genius that we know of his younger years. This is a lesson that other aging musicians should definitely take heed of, for in their greedy desire to maintain a level of prominence, they could well be ruining their legacy in the process. I personally hold Iggy Pop as the prime example of this – his crimes being all the more hard to swallow due to how incredible he once was as the frontman of the protopunk movement. What is such a shame is that now, even though I herald ‘Lust For Life’ as one of the best albums of the 1970s, I can barely listen to it for fear of conjuring up terrifying images of a lost old man selling his soul, dignity and self-respect for £25 million under the slogan of “Get A Life”. An innovator of punk rock selling car insurance? What a disgusting and disgustingly modern state of affairs. Next we'll be seeing the man who once snarled down the camera shouting "God save the Queen, a fascist regime" dressed in tweed, proclaiming that we sell-out like him and buy 'Country Life' butter "because it tastes the best".

I don’t think it is necessary to point out that this is not something that you’d catch Iggy’s close friend David Bowie doing - his dignified silence over recent years speaking volumes. Gracing us with his presence on only a few occasions, usually in situations which serve to remind of his position at the forefront of all that is still cool in the music industry. His appearances onstage with Placebo, Arcade Fire and Moby have been a nod to the new generation of gifted and respected musicians. (A far cry from a special guest slot on ‘X Factor’, I think you’ll agree).

His complete and utter success in growing old gracefully and gloriously is prominent when one notes his absence from the chat show circuit, within which we find a continuous stream of autobiography-holding, greatest-hits-promoting, reunion-tour-plugging shadows. Instead we catch Bowie say, in a photo shoot for Q Magazine, Kate Moss dangled round his neck, looking as though the pleasure is all hers.What Bowie has succeeded in doing is creating the blue print for how people can not only grow old in a way that will give their previous achievements all the more respect and appreciation to new and old generations alike, but also how to live your life as fulfilled and content as possible. It is easy to see that Bowie is no longer hung up, unlike so many of the prime offenders in this category, on the power and money driven fame game. Releasing new albums only sporadically, often under the radar of the commercial market – holding artistic satisfaction as the main aim, and refraining from making anything at all if not suitably inspired.


Admiration for David Bowie in the year 2011 is as prominent as it has ever been, and rightfully so. Respect for himself has got him a long way, now enjoying retirement cuddled up to a supermodel wife and bringing up his young daughter in New York, undoubtedly able to look back on his extensive career with few regrets and much pride. This of course works both ways, for it is thanks to this self-respect and dignity that we – as fans – can continue to love and enjoy David Bowie’s artistic offerings, happy in the affirmation that he 100%, absolutely, positively and certifiably was and is as incredible and other-worldly as we ever believed him to be.

Thursday, 6 October 2011

The Man Who Shot The Seventies.

One thing I am really and truly grateful for in the history of modern music is that Mick Rock was there to capture it all.

We owe a lot to Mick; for it is him who's responsible for permanently freezing Debbie Harry's flawless face in suspended motion, capturing Syd Barrett during an aesthetically pleasing pre-meltdown juncture and preserving Freddie Mercury's chiselled cheek bones far beyond his mortal years. Were it not for the enviable talents of Mick Rock within the visible spectrum, we may have never been certain of exactly how perfect, beautiful and glorious the 1970s were, or indeed the stars whose existence made it so.



Having made his name in the world of music photography by capturing David Bowie during the Ziggy Stardust era, it wasn't long before Mick Rock was the biggest and most revered name in the industry, being called upon to capture the most talked about stars of the day (often by their own request) and as a result, becoming the man behind some of the most easily recognisable photographs and iconic album covers in musical history.


For many years now, Mick Rock has been my favourite photographer - in part because he has the most enviable job one could dare to imagine, but also because he successfully manages to portray so much more than his beautiful subjects within each photo. He effortlessly manages to freeze a moment in time, a moment within which the excitement and promise of a budding career is forever suspended; along with all the beliefs of the world around it.


In short, Mick Rock is a genius because he managed to capture some of the greatest people in the exact moment that we wish them to remain, and thanks to his photographs they shall forever be immortalised as such.


Here are some of my favourite shots :

Bobby Gillespie, 2006

Debbie Harry, 1979

David Bowie, 1973

Lou Reed, 1975

Freddie Mercury, 1974

Iggy Pop, 1972

Joan Jett, 1981

Kate Moss, 2002

Syd Barrett, 1969

Michael Stipe, 2005

Wednesday, 5 October 2011

New Is Good Too.

Having spent the last few posts discussing and praising ways-of-old in the music industry, I would hate to give the impression that there is little to be excited about in 2011, as this would clearly be some dirty propaganda in my campaign to get everyone to revert the world to 1968 (and quite frankly, it just isn’t true).

There is an incredible amount of exciting and brilliant music around today, and one of the brightest, shiniest and most glittering stars – it has to be said – is Mr Patrick Wolf. Despite ten years having passed since his first album was released, the public – whose affections for the star seem to ebb and flow depending on the weather – appear to have half-heartedly climbed back on board for his latest album release; ‘Lupercalia’. It says a lot of Patrick Wolf that he can credibly be considered reminiscent of Bowie in various ways; including a penchant for avant-garde fashion endeavours, a sexual ambiguity that has kept people guessing and a voracious desire to repeatedly transform and redevelop a new sound for each new music offering – all the while maintaining something indefinable which renders them instantly recognisable. Perhaps their most striking resemblance however, is their possession of an unfathomable and almost otherworldly amount of talent, one which they almost seem to be channelling from galaxies invisible to us mere mortals.
  
From the cleanly tailored dove-white outfit on the album sleeve to the opening majors of the first track; ‘The City’, it is irrefutably apparent that this album is going to be a far cry from Wolf’s sinister and brooding 2009 offering – ‘The Bachelor’. An album full of songs laced with dark eccentricity, intricate ideas and observations of a world in turmoil; coated in a rich layer of organ, violin and any number of instruments that Wolf is able to turn his hand to. As such, it is hard to believe that ‘The Bachelor’ and ‘Lupercalia’ were ever intended to be a double album, unless released under a concept of polar opposites.

With each album that Wolf releases, it is easy to fall into the trap of believing that this will surely be the one that finally elevates him into the musical lap of the gods - rightfully claiming a place which has been reserved for years. However, while 'Lupercalia' may have shown promising signs of such a feat, it seems again to have mainly fallen on the ears of his loyal fan base, never quite making the leap to arena fodder, but ensuring packed theatres and small venues up and down the country whenever he honours them with his presence. While it is a crying shame that such a gifted and charismatic performer does not get to tread the boards of larger venues, it also makes him the nation’s best kept secret, providing his fans with an intimacy and relationship that serves Wolf very well.

With ‘Lupercalia’, we find Patrick Wolf back to his optimistic best, and upon listening to this album it is impossible not to rejoice in the happiness that he has clearly found in his own life over the past few years. Full of hearty defiance that love shall survive and conquer all, it would be hard to find a more positive and content set of lyrics, and indeed a more positive or content man; as one discovers when watching any performance on his accompanying tour. Bounding around a stage laden with harps and all manner of string instruments like a magical pixie, singing to raise the roof whilst parading the biggest and most genuine of smiles throughout the entire show, there is no doubt that this is a man with something to smile about.

Perhaps the most notable achievement of Patrick Wolf on this album, is his absolute triumph in writing the most optimistic and inspirational break-up song in the history of music. ‘Time Of My Life’ is incredible, and the positive spin which he places upon what is potentially one of the most depressing and difficult occurrences - the end of a relationship – is inspiring;


From the east to the south
I tongue the roof of my mouth 
To new days of doubt without you 
First gear, I face the trouble ahead 
Final word has been said 
Long distance spread between us 

I tell myself to 
Hold on, won’t be long 
Till I grow through this struggle
Time to wake up, find my soul
Happy without you 

We go on
Heart beats strong
Still whole 
Unbroken 
As we divide 
Our love goodbye 
Thanks for, the time 
Time of my life


This is undoubtedly a song that each and everyone should hold fast to in their arsenal of motivational and invigorating music for when things get tough, as before you know it, ‘Time Of My Life’ will have you, not just back on your feet, but dancing in the ambience of it’s infectious optimism.

The rest of the album carries on in much of the same vain, and even when Wolf threatens to show signs of a bleaker sound, such as the beginning of ‘Together’ or in ‘The Days’, it does not last long before we’re returned to the defiant, shouting-my-love-from-the-rooftops sounds of ‘Lupercalia’. Uplifting strings, thumping drums and delicate piano often revealing the warm sentiments, even in songs which could be considered more subdued.


While an album of brilliance certainly, I cannot pass without questioning whether forty-one minutes and three seconds of uplifting electro-pop provides the listener with enough of a well-rounded sensory experience. The consistency in emotion may be admirable, however what Wolf has failed to do here unlike his most comparable album to date – 2007’s ‘The Magic Position’ – is touch on the dizzying heights of euphoric contentment as well as the inevitable accompanying lows. This is perhaps why, despite the absolute joy that can be derived from witnessing Patrick Wolf as a beautifully at ease human being who has found happiness and inner peace in all that surrounds him, even as a true fan you find yourself thinking that all we need now is a break up album to get him back to his gutsy best (closely followed by a return to happiness, of course.)

Here is ‘Time Of My Life’ :


Patrick Wolf - Lupercalia
2011 Mercury Records

Sunday, 2 October 2011

On The Back.

Following on from my previous post in which I discussed the loss of album artwork in the digital age - a time when all album covers are reduced to a thumbnail image and the back covers and sleevenotes are rendered obsolete - here are some brilliant back covers which will be a particularly sad loss to the mp3 audience :


The Libertines - The Libertines

David Bowie - Ziggy Stardust and The Spiders From Mars

Guns N' Roses - Appetite For Destruction

The Eagles - Hotel California

John Lennon - Double Fantasy

Oasis - Definitely Maybe

The Specials - The Specials

David Bowie - Space Oddity

My Zimbio