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Pete Wilding launches into his personal best, worst and middlest cover versions ever. |
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11. Jimi Hendrix – All Along The Watchtower (Dylan, original performer Bob Dylan). Okay, so there’s eleven. So shoot me. Any professional integrity or endorsement this feature might once have earned has surely long been sullied by my own bloody-minded rock snobbishness. Anyway, having struggled initially to reach a definitive list, my brain found an extra gear and I was swamped with just marginally too many records to fit in a top ten. Why grumble? It’s more value for money! Ahem. So, anyway, Hendrix. This is a rather obvious one, but none the worse for it. Both Dylan and Hendrix appear again in this Top ‘Ten’ – and with good reason. Dylan is one of the greatest ever songwriters, but – forgive my honesty, purists – sometimes, his songs just sound better when performed by other people. Of course, that statement needs a disclaimer addendum, for covering Beatles or Dylan songs is probably the one thing uniting every band that has existed in the past 40 years. Hendrix’s version – typically, a fight between the great man and his guitar to boss the tune - has become more famous than the original, his voice perfectly complementing the skittish lead guitar. But Dylan’s signature remains on all his songs, such is his position of deity in the history of popular music. 10. Anne McCue – Machine Gun (Hendrix, original performer The Jimi Hendrix Experience). An unlikely story, this one. First, we call this the age of equality, but there are still precious few really good female (lead) guitarists around. Second, many fewer people have the guts to cover Hendrix, so intimidating is his quality and style of lead guitar that most cling to the more homely ditties of Dylan et al. To attempt to counterfeit Hendrix and get away with it is tantamount to treason. Somehow, though, Anne McCue - a relative unknown until Bob Harris picked up the scent last year – does just that and succeeds on both counts. Her version of Machine Gun is absolutely incendiary, and McCue’s lead guitar is frighteningly good. Jimi himself, I dare say, would have been proud. The song – mainly comprised of feedback-drenched jamming – is shorter than Hendrix’s original (a desperately diminished, er, nine minutes), but provides a stunning finale to McCue’s stunning debut album ‘Roll’. 9. Creedence Clearwater Revival – I Put A Spell On You (Hawkins, original performer Screamin’ Jay Hawkins). John Fogerty and his band chose their covers brilliantly. Two years before their inspired, adrenalin-soaked I Heard It Through The Grapevine, they debuted with a rendition of Suzi Q. Sandwiched in between was this version of Screamin’ Jay Hawkins’ haunting masterpiece. Fogerty’s spine-tingling holler, combined with the band’s distinct, Deep South voodoo-hoodoo R&B sound, gave their second single a palpable, chilling atmosphere. When the listening public realised Fogerty’s own songwriting was just as good, huge success was theirs, if only briefly. Fogerty himself deserves a special mention in this piece: After recording a solo album in 1985 following a ten-year hiatus, his new record label accused him of lifting material from his previous recordings, and promptly sued him for plagiarising, er, himself. 8. Johnny Cash – Solitary Man (Diamond, original performer Neil Diamond). The Man in Black’s swansong, a cover of Nine Inch Nails’ Hurt, was a heartbreakingly poignant portrait of a great man’s demise. Particularly when seeing the video, it shows a man with pain and regrets who knows he is close to death, but who has enjoyed life nonetheless. It is the cover – and perhaps the Johnny Cash song – of the moment. And rightly so. But I think he recorded better songs written by other people. Sensitive, nuanced tributes to everyone from U2 to Nick Cave and even Dean Martin have punctuated Cash’s work in recent years, and this is the best of the lot. Neil Diamond would probably rank higher than, say, your 2Unlimited single or Reggae ’92 in most people’s list of ‘Most Embarrassing Records I Own”. He did, however, compose this great, wry confession of a jilted man. Cash picks up the tempo and makes his mark. And though, according to the rules, it doesn’t ruin Diamond’s original, there is no question which we prefer. 7. The White Stripes – Jolene (Parton, original performer Dolly Parton). It’s difficult to pinpoint the exact moment the White Stripes, more than fashionably late, exploded onto our stereos in a blaze of feedback-drenched, plugged in, old-school blues, monochrome clothing and dubious, murky relationships. It is even more perplexing to know that this wasn’t that moment (though it was hardly promoted with much enthusiasm, released solely as the b-side to a limited edition 7-inch in 2000). It is testament to the genius and originality of Jack and Meg that they can take a country standard, give it a sweaty, manic, distorted makeover – and get away with it. Jack’s tortured yowl, Meg’s pounding, psychotic tub-thumping and the sheer noise the duo somehow make all conspire to unleash the disturbing beast within the song. But Parton, and her legend, will always remain intact. 6. The Lemonheads – Mrs Robinson (Simon and Garfunkel, original performer Simon and Garfunkel). Evan Dando’s aesthetic has always been rather more laid-back than that of Jack White, but no less sincere or inspiring for that. That said, his band have covered a range of metal bands (Kiss, Metallica), as well as Patsy Cline and, erm, Cole Porter. This furious, punky version of Simon and Garfunkel’s anthem was an instant hit, and shot the Lemonheads into the limelight for the first time, eventually sending Dando into near-fatal chemical escapism. The original will always be one of those rare treats – a unanimous, iconic, romantic masterpiece. To cover it well and give it a fresh spin without undermining that precious mantel earns the Lemonheads their place. 5. Jeff Buckley – Hallelujah (Cohen, original performer Leonard Cohen). You have to feel some compassion toward Mrs Buckley. Her husband Tim died of an ‘accidental’ drug overdose (whatever that means) at the age of 28. In 1998, twenty-three years later, her son Jeff was swept away by a strong current in Memphis harbour and never resurfaced. Buckley Junior, like his father, was a prodigiously talented singer with a range to shame most opera singers. And, like his father, his was an untimely, perversely premature death. His legacy remains a powerful one, built largely around his astonishing debut, Grace. Hallelujah was written by Leonard Cohen, whose work has been interpreted by the likes of REM, Nick Cave and the Pixies. Great names perhaps, but none of them came close to the beauty of Buckley’s rendition of Hallelujah. The problem with Cohen is that atrabilious, melancholic monotone of his that makes everything he utters in song so joyless. ‘Hallelujah’ ought to be one of the most euphoric, ecstatic words in the world, yet upon hearing Cohen’s version you find yourself staring at the telephone, trying to remember the number for the Samaritans. Mutatis mutandis, from Buckley’s silky throat the song is transformed into a joyful hymn, an ethereal poignancy added in hindsight of his tragic demise. 4. Aretha Franklin – Respect (Redding, original performer Otis Redding). “Finally!” I hear you sigh – “he chooses one we’ve all heard!” Well, yes, it’s an obvious one, and that’s because, simply, it’s a wonderful record. Otis Redding penned this soul classic but it became the First Lady of Soul’s signature tune thanks to this scorching rendition. Though she wrote much of her own material, she performed scores of compositions by other soul artists. In this respect (ahem) she was fortunate to be signed to Atlantic, who also owned the publishing rights for the likes of Redding, Sam Cooke and The Miracles. The overt message of the song, along with its timing, made it just as important, in socio-political terms, as Cooke’s A Change Is Gonna Come. Crushingly, though, it appeared to have little effect at the time – less than twelve months after Respect was released, Martin Luther King, Jr. was shot dead for dreaming of racial equality. 3. The Byrds – Mr Tambourine Man (Dylan, original performer Bob Dylan). Another great song, written by Bob Dylan and played better by someone else. Sorry, Mr Zimmerman, but this track is as good as it is because of the band playing it. Again, Dylan’s version was great. But, if any tune can be said to emanate glorious summer sunshine, this is it. The riff is so infectious as to be etched onto our brains before birth, and the harmonies on this cover are so sweet you could lick ‘em. Make no mistake, The Byrds are one of the greatest bands of all time – pioneering psychedelic rock before anyone else and threatening to rule a world with the Beatles in it. This was their first number one record, and only the second in this list to do so (after Respect). The Byrds received tutelage of the highest order: Both from Dylan and Gram Parsons, whose hybrid musical lovechild they bore: Alternative Country. They were the first really successful band to manifest Parsons’ ambition, merging country, R&B and gospel to thrilling effect on Sweetheart of the Rodeo. The long term result is thousands of bands and artists mimicking ‘black sheep’ country music, headed by the likes of Ryan Adams, in what is arguably the fastest-growing genre in music today. 2. Cake – I Will Survive (Fekaris/Perren, original performer Gloria Gaynor). Cake are one of those criminally underrated bands who develop a ‘cult’ following purely through word of mouth and the grains of underground media that sneak through the cracks in the pavement. This is at least partly because they are the kind of band it is impossible to describe generically without making them sound dreadful. Genres are a cancer in the arts, just as stereotypes caused so much social unrest in the years preceding Gloria Gaynor’s original “women’s anthem” smash hit in the late 1970s. To describe Cake as “jazz-funk-rock” would be at once entirely accurate and yet instantly demeaning; music fans avoid entire genres because of their pre-conceptions, yet there is quality in every type of music, just as in every kind of film. John McCrea’s band combine a range of stylistics, just to muddy the waters further. Their laid-back arrangements and persistently soulful edge make this edgy makeover of a disco classic absolutely stunning, necessary entertainment. 1. Otis Redding – My Girl (Robinson, original artist the Temptations). So this, in my humble opinion, is the greatest cover song of all time. Moreover, it’s one of the best pop songs ever written. Everybody knows this song – and there’s a reason for that. William ‘Smokey’ Robinson wrote it for The Temptations while working as their producer in the late-sixties. Curiously enough, he never recorded it himself, either solo or with The Miracles. Curious, because, impressive though Smokey’s repertoire is, he probably never bettered this. Death, tragic and mistimed, has been a running theme in this list. Otis Redding is probably the object of the most untimely and unfortunate demise of all. He didn’t die of an overdose or by fatal gunshot. He died in a plane crash in Lake Monona, Madison in December 1967, two months before My Girl was released. The tragedy? He was just twenty-six. It’s been said before that if you don’t like this record, you really don’t like music. I think that says it all. “I got sunshine on a cloudy day…,” Otis croons as only he can. Does pop really get any better than that? Now, we know you’re gagging to read our list of the WORST covers of all time. Here it is….. Pete Wilding
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