Cover Version Showdown #6

The Beach Boys, “God Only Knows” – David Bowie v Claudine Longet

Probably the first Beach Boys song that I have a clear memory of hearing is “Surfer Girl”, which turned up on “Flashback Fever”, a 1975 K-tel compilation of 1960s songs that also included such classics as Jan & Dean’s “Surf City”, Ronettes’ “Be My Baby” and Bee Gees “(The Lights Went Out in) Massachusetts”, which is also possibly the first Gibb brothers track that made a real dent on my attentions. Over the nearly 50 years that have followed, I have heard a lot of Beach Boys music and saw them live a few times, though I never really got on board with the idea that they were anything special. They had a lot of really good singles, but it wasn’t an output that could stand comparison to the Beatles or Stones, and anyone that said otherwise was delusional.

After starting my Pazz and Jop project, I finally began listening to their albums, and my appreciation blossomed. This included “Pet Sounds”, which, while brilliant, also has a bit too much of a “Look at me, Ma, look at me!” vibe. Sure, it’s cool that you can do all this interesting stuff, but should you? It has “Wouldn’t It Be Nice?” and “God Only Knows”, which are two of my three favourite Beach Boys songs (“All Summer Long” is the other), “Caroline, No” and “Sloop John B” are also classics, and there really isn’t any dead air. It’s just very busy.

“God Only Knows” certainly isn’t free of Brian Wilson’s artistic fever dreams, but it’s the lyrics that have always pulled me in anyway. Though the opening line is “I may not always love you”, it’s framed in such a way – immediately followed by “But as long as there are stars above you / You never need to doubt it” – that you know instantly that it’s a lie, that the narrator is so besotted that there is no coming back from this. When he sings “God only knows what I’d be without you” it is both a declaration and an entreaty: please don’t let me find out. It is a song of undying love, and though he will carry on if she leaves, he will be a shell. It’s also a song that is deeply personal for me. I felt lost when I met my wife, not knowing what was coming next, and every time I hear this song – which was about 50 or 60 times today – I think of her and feel like she rescued me from an unknowable darkest timeline. So, of course, it’s not only my favourite Beach Boys song: it’s probably one of my 5 or 10 favourite songs period. Thus diving into cover versions was not without some risk, though I felt confident that my love of the original would preserve me in the face of whatever fuckery people got up to in the name of artistic expression.

Sometimes, finding two distinctive and listenable cover versions can be a struggle, but when it comes to “God Only Knows”, there are riches beyond the dreams of avarice. Not that all are created equally. Too many versions – Captain & Tennille (the Captain should have known better given his history with the Beach Boys), Neil Diamond, Michael Buble, Bryan Adams, Holly Cole, Joss Stone – slow it down and by doing so suck all the life out of the song. Yes, it’s a love song, but it’s celebratory, not the mourn-fest that these artists seem to think it is. Similarly, John Legend and Cynthia Erivo have lovely voices, of course, especially hers, but the orchestration is a complete slog. Other versions miss for different reasons: Andy Williams’ mannered and melodramatic singing ruins some lovely piano; Glen Campbell’s is pure cheese (though the opening appears to have been ripped off in 1978’s Superman movie tie-in “Can You Read My Mind”); Joey Hetherton is too bombastic; and Edith Whiskers is painful to listen to (though at least it’s sort of intentional). The backing track on Olivia Newton John’s version is annoying, and she seems to be trying to be sexy when that was definitely not the brand of pre-“Grease” Olivia. Brandi Carlile’s version is guitar forward, but it sounds like a guy in the corner at a party fiddling around with an instrument he’s still learning how to play. And, finally, Pentatonix are, well, Pentatonix, and you either like this overwrought a capella or you don’t, and I do not – it’s exhausting to listen to, all mannerisms and no subtlety, and no joy. Hard pass.

There are also a lot of whimsical versions, picking up on the baroque side of “Pet Sounds”: She & Him’s version is lighter than air, and just what you would expect from a manic pixie dream girl; Imaginary Future slow it down but still have some bounce, and it feels like the husband and wife that make up the band are singing to each other; and Lilia Tracie gives it a sort of tinkly bossa nova take. There are also some versions that don’t try to reinvent the song but just do a stellar job of showing their respect and love for it: Dale Earnhardt Jr. Jr., Avenged Sevenfold (which starts out quietly, and sort of low energy, like they aren’t really sure why they’re even playing this particular song, until the tempo picks up and they rock out the rest of the way), Jars of Clay (as wholesome as you would expect from a Christian band, but unexpectedly one of the more purely enjoyable listens), and Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem, which is faithful, but with The Muppets, which has to be worth something.

Finally, before we get to our contenders, three unique versions that stand out. The Nylons bring a joy to a capella that Pentatonix lacks, and while the song works well in this style, it does go on much longer than it should considering how repetitive it is. Although I love Elvis Costello, classical music is not my thing, so I rarely revisit his work with the Brodsky Quartet, and while their version of this, as Elvis says, old California folk song is lovely, I just cannot get into it. Finally, we have Daniel Johnston, whose singing voice is a taste I have not yet acquired, but it’s still charmingly minimalist, which is a real challenge with a Brian Wilson composition.

The first of these covers that I listened to was from David Bowie, who quickly established himself as the front runner. Bowie never waters things down: to call it epic may not do it justice. It’s like the centrepiece of a gothic musical: the Phantom crying over his Christine, a tortured soul howling into the darkness. He stretches the song out, slows it down, accentuates the pain and fear at its heart. Swelling strings, heartbeat drums, a gloom-inflected vocal that rises to despair. But, like the Phantom, a dark lord obsessing over an unreachable desire, there is certainly an air of creepiness, which Bowie also excels at. There is something of the stalker to its presentation, like a guy watching someone through slightly parted (stage) curtains.

So, who is he watching? Well, how about Andy Williams’ ex, Claudine Longet. Full disclosure: I did not know she was a “singer”, and the quotes are entirely in reference to this recording. What I knew about Longet came down to two men: Williams and Spider Sabich, the boyfriend who she may have murdered but escaped justice thanks to some dreadful police work. And while this is really talking musically instead of singing, it has the kind of breathless sexiness that never fails to charm (well, men, at least). Maybe it’s the accent, like a druggy “Zou Bisou Bisou”. The baroque feel of the original is retained, though subtly: you certainly would not have heard this playing in the court of Louis XV while Rousseau stood by waiting for his monarch’s response. The only problem is that you never really believe what she’s saying: you’d be fine without him, Claudine, but he’d be a mess. But the whole thing somehow works, drifting on a cloud of Gallic grace and charm.

The Winner: David Bowie

This was never a fair battle. While Longet’s version is a lovely distraction, Bowie’s has gravitas, and is a more worthy descendant of the original. If both songs were encountered without foreknowledge, I think it would take you longer to recognize the Bowie track as a cover, and that matters to me. But both are honourable, neither tied to the past nor neglectful of it, original without being destructive.

The end of Brian Wilson’s time as a creative force seems to be close based on recent reports that he is suffering from dementia and being placed in a conservatorship. He has been part of that decision making process, so more music may yet come, but those days are certainly numbered. He has given the world a body of work that is breathtaking in both volume and quality, especially in view of the many interruptions to his career from challenges with his mental health. And his California folk songs will continue to brighten many a day in gloomier climes.

That’s A Wrap . . . On 2023 (Sort Of)

It’s been a bit surprising to learn how important Spotify’s personalized year end wrap ups are to some listeners. Reddit – my current favourite social media hang spot – is filled with folks sharing their top 5 artists, total listening time, and other badges of their dedication to music generally and certain artists specifically. I feel like a slacker compared to some of them: my measly 89,300 minutes of listening can’t compete with people who are over 400,000, which can only be accomplished if (1) it is streaming while you sleep (which is a cheat, frankly) or (2) you have a serious need to see a doctor about your life-threatening insomnia. And the 909 minutes I spent on my #1 act shows that I am a puny being unworthy of being called a fan when one listener showed proof that she spent over 290,000 minutes – that is, the equivalent of 201+ days – on Taylor Swift’s music alone. To my daughter Nicole: the gauntlet has been thrown down.

The real news to me personally was that, for all the effort I put into finding and listening to new music, not a lot of it makes its way into heavy rotation. Spotify has noticed that I do this, as lately it has been serving up more and more obscure acts for me to check out, like Wry (1,165 monthly listeners) and Scorpion Wolf Shark (6!). Still, the absence of these musical adventures makes sense: much of my listening is casual or in the company of my spouse, meaning I tend to favour things we both know and like. Exploration requires an element of focus that I just don’t have while puttering around the kitchen sous chef-ing or when doing the laundry. There are three tunes from Sobs released in 2022, a bunch of that year’s Oscar nominated tracks, my favourite cut from Lil Nas X’s last album, and that’s it for more recent releases.

Not news was that my favourite songs are dominated by music that I wrote about: my most listened to track was The Cars’ “Just What I Needed” (34 times, which seems like a total that could happen by accident), The Romantics’ “What I Like About You” came in at #3, and they were joined by other Classic Songs of My Youth Revisited alumni like Phil Collins, Rick Springfield and The Outfield. I have all of these songs on a single playlist, and wrote about them because I love them, so of course they get played a lot. (No, “Billy, Don’t Be A Hero” did not make the cut.)

There were a few surprises. I love “Close To Me” by The Cure but had no idea it was my fifth most played song of the year. I did not play Hall & Oates’ “You Make My Dreams (Come True)” even once with intent, yet there it is, snuggled in between Gazebo’s “I Like Chopin” and “Hey Ya!” from Outkast. I didn’t even know that The Flashing Lights existed until mid-August, but I have played them so much since that “Been Waiting” made the cut. Right ahead of them is my favourite surprise: “Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Man” a 1968 track from The Bob Seger System that I didn’t know before but Spotify correctly thought I might enjoy.

As for that 909-minute top act, it was Fountains of Wayne, and I totally believe that: their music is a form of really healthy comfort food for me. Elvis Costello is at #2 with the Attractions and at #4 on his own, and both of those track: he is one of the artists who my wife and I share an enjoyment of. The Rolling Stones are 3rd, and while it was a bit surprising, I did write about them a few times. But #5 is Bruce Springsteen, and other than “The River”, which somehow isn’t among my most played, I have a hard time recalling any time when I played one of his songs on purpose. But the numbers say I played him a lot, so I can’t really argue it.

From the comments on Reddit, I can’t tell if my experience is that unique. People are posting their top fives, and I have not seen a single one of my top 100 songs on any of these lists. Nobody on Reddit seems to have been listening to music from the 1950s, and my dominant era of the 1970s and 1980s is also not getting much love. I don’t really see anything whacky, like Sylvester’s “You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real)” in the middle of four Megadeth tracks. My favourite is probably the user who has three Tina Turner songs, the end credits theme to “Charlotte’s Web” (it doesn’t indicate which version) and a track from the video game Persona 4 Golden, followed by the guy who had one hard rock song (I can’t recall what it was) and four stand up comedy bits from Christopher Titus, who I will absolutely be checking out. Those are some distinctive choices.

I’m definitely getting my money’s worth out of Spotify: I’m in the top 2% of worldwide users. And while I feel a little guilty about artists getting shafted by the payment model, it’s not like they weren’t also getting screwed by every other iteration of the music industry since time immemorial. I listened to 5,149 artists this year, and that number would be much, much smaller if I had been required to pay for a record from each of them. Thanks to Spotify, I discovered artists that I love, like The LeeVees (nothing but songs about Hanukkah) and Nerf Herder, and was able to become reacquainted with acts like folk rocker James McMurtry (whose fantastic 1989 debut album “Too Long in the Wasteland” finally made it onto the service this past year) and The Bears. Wrapped doesn’t really show that: it’s the top slice of my listening, but doesn’t reflect who I truly am as a music fan, so it’s of limited utility to anyone who might want to try to figure out who I am based on my musical tastes. Except for the very top: Fountains of Wayne truly is my favourite artist, and “Just What I Needed” has been getting me fired up for 45 years now. The algorithm got those right at least.

Cover Version Showdown #4

Elvis Costello, “Watching the Detectives” – Duran Duran v The Henry Girls

It’s kind of amazing to me that I’ve made it this far without writing about Elvis Costello, who, more recent disappointments aside, is my all-time favourite musical artist. He came along too late for Pazz and Jop (that’s going to change big time once we reach 1977), and none of his individual tunes fits with Classics Revisited. I didn’t think there were enough noteworthy cover versions out there – my apologies to Linda Ronstadt – for this space. And then I heard The Henry Girls sing “Watching the Detectives”.

But first, let’s go back to the original. It wasn’t a hit in North America – it fell outside the Billboard Top 100 at 108, and peaked at 60 in Canada – but it was certainly one of the songs that EC was known for in his late ‘70s heyday, when his albums were selling over a million copies each and everyone kept waiting for that hit single that would put him on the same level as contemporaries like Joe Jackson. That hit never came, but he made great album topped by (maybe) greater album year after year, and that has pretty much sustained him through 40 years of musical adventurism. Every record is a surprise – I’m a big fan of “Painted from Memory”, his collaboration with Burt Bacharach, and there is a crazily diverse palate of albums with The Brodsky Quartet, Anne Sofie Von Otter, Allen Toussaint (I own all of these) and, as the proof of my theory that a great musician can work in any genre (see Hartman, Dan), Wendy James. I finally checked the latter record out recently, and it might be the most fun I’ve had listening to an album he was involved in. I hope he enjoyed writing it.

Elvis’ original is a menacing little thing, with booming drums and throbbing bass with a staccato reggae-lite beat. The entire thing is sung with a sneer and a rising sense of danger, the score to a film noir that ends with the protagonist wondering how the fuck did he get so turned inside out. Written in a fever after a night spent slowly falling in love with The Clash, it is certainly among the punkier of his recordings, in attitude at least.

Our first competitor is Duran Duran, and I am very surprised to be writing about them again. They were a band I paid as little attention to as possible, which was pretty darned challenging from 1982 to 1988. Lots of hits, very few of them memorable, yet so tinged with nostalgic value that they now give me great pleasure to revisit. They tackled “Watching the Detectives” on an album of cover versions released in 1995. There are versions of songs from Bob Dylan, Lou Reed, Sly and the Family Stone, Public Enemy, and, holy shit, how can I be sitting here writing when that record exists in the world and I still haven’t listened to it 27 years later. It’s lush and jittery, a haunted doomscape out of Godard’s “Alphaville” nightmares. It practically vibrates, Simon Le Bon’s breathy vocal laced with faux sexiness, the messy backing tracks digging under your skin in about a dozen different ways.

And then we come to The Henry Girls. If, like me until recently, you’ve never heard of them before, then you’re in for a treat. Three sisters from Ireland, their music has been described as a blend of Irish roots music and Americana. Their melodies are a thing of genius. This is the record that would’ve been created if the “Rum and Coca Cola” version of The Andrews Sisters had met 1977 Nick Lowe (Elvis’ producer) on 1967 Carnaby Street right after Nick had completed a fellowship with Phil Spector and then rejected everything Phil taught him except for the stuff about harmony, and if you understand that I loved writing that sentence, then you get me, and I thank you. It’s sort of goofy and so personal and unique, and highlights Elvis’ intricate wordplay in a way his own singing never does.

The Winner: Duran Duran

I had this locked and loaded for The Henry Girls from the first listen, but then a weird thing happened. With each play, Duran Duran’s version revealed new layers, while The Henry Girls remained the same piece of wonder it was from the beginning. And that gives the Brits the edge over the Irish right now. This could easily switch in another day or two, and then back, which is sort of fantastic. Each artist put their personal mark on the song, and I love both, and how they respect Elvis and sort of piss in his eye at the same time. I’m pretty sure he’d be good with that, and so am I.