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July 24, 2007

* "covers and originals"

A recent addition to my iTunes playlist categories is one I've labeled (for lack of any wittier description) "covers and originals." It's a slowly growing file of songs for which I have (in my computer's database) both the original version and at least one cover of that song.

I've found it to be enjoyable and enlightening for several reasons. First and foremost, probably, is that any song which another artist deemed worth covering is pretty likely to be a good song. So the subset is inherently a rather strong one musically.

Second, and more personally particular to my own tastes, I suppose, is that the notion plays to my predelection for listening repeatedly to the same song. There is, of course, on iTunes and most CD players, the option of playing a single track over and over -- once whimsically dubbed "zeitmode" by some of my friends in deference to one of my email handles -- but the "covers and originals" playlist adds a neat wrinkle to that process, since it's the same song being performed by different artists.

Finally, and perhaps most significantly, is that hearing both the original and a cover frequently sheds considerable light on the essence of the song. A good cover, of course, doesn't simply mimic the original, but attempts to recontextualize it, or reflect upon it, or reinvent it -- somehow or other bringing something new to the table, while also still connecting with the emotional resonance at the song's core.

That's not easy to do, but when it works, the sparks fly and light up the sky. I get that feeling from several of the tunes I'm hearing this evening as the playlist marches on. Such as....

* "Hawaiian Baby": A Rebecca Gates original recorded in the early '90s with her band the Spinanes, I'd always found this song achingly beautiful, but figured I had to be in a pretty small minority simply because so few people had heard it, given that it was on a 7-inch single. (That did get remedied a few months ago with a CD-EP reissue, which I reviewed in the pages of ND earlier this year.) Much to my very pleasant surprise, I recently happened upon a cover version by Buffalo Tom that was released a few years back on an odds-&-sods compilation. The timbre of the guitar is different, and Bill Janovitz's vocal inevitably imbues the verses with a slightly different hue; but the band strikes right at the heart of the song in terms of getting the mood and the feel right.

* "Valentine's Day Is Over": Billy Bragg's version in the late '80s (on the Workers' Playtime album) was one of his finest moments as both a songwriter and a recording artist; he's never written a better ballad. June Tabor & the Oyster Band covered it in the early '90s and gave it a very different reading -- it's jauntier, less melancholy, but in a pointed and purposeful way. Bragg wrote the tune from a woman's point of view but sings it with a sadness that perhaps reflects the man's sorrow. In Tabor's hands, it's much more of a kiss-off, and may well indeed better express the sentiment of the lyrics.

* "Orphan Girl": As the first song on Gillian Welch's first record -- and one that got covered by Emmylou Harris (on Wrecking Ball) before Welch's debut even hit the shelves -- this is one of Welch's most recognizable songs. And with good reason; it's pretty near perfect, if perhaps just a shade too straightforward (which has become clearer as Welch has grown more melodically adventurous in recent years). The cover version on my playlist is actually not Harris' rendition, however, but a more recent one by Crooked Still, the fine Massachusetts string band. Rushad Eggleston's cello adds the spike that's missing from Welch's original; their version pretty well jumps out of the speakers, breathing a whole new life into the song.

* "They Don't Know": Another case in which a cover is more prominent than the original: Tracey Ullman took it to the pop top-10 in 1984, but it was initially released a couple years earlier by Kirsty MacColl, who wrote it while still a teenager. I've long believed this is one of the very, very best pop songs ever written; it practically defines pop (to my sensibilities, anyway). There's not really a lot of difference between the Ullman and MacColl versions, but both are exquisite, from the chiming keys and guitars to the infectiously sing-songy rhythm of the lyrics to the pregnant pause and high-pitched "Bay-bee!" exultation at the song's zenith. One might guess Ullman's version was more "tricked up for radio" to get on the charts, but it really doesn't sound that way; there's not much more on Ullman's take that makes MacColl's original seem noticeably less-polished by comparison.

The wild-card here is a more recent rendition by Tara O'Neill that definitely is more lo-fi. Its indie sensibility certainly takes the song out of pop-radio context; and yet, danged if the song isn't just so strong that it hardly matters. O'Neill isn't as bubbly as Ullman or MacColl, but she still connects with the radiance of the rhythm and lyrics. You get the feeling that anyone could sing this song -- sad-sack Mark Eitzel, cool-burning Marianne Faithfull, screech-meister Geddy Lee -- and its irrepressible sun would still shine.

adios,
peter

Posted by Peter at 11:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

July 17, 2007

* "try to place your superstar...."

We've had, so far, I believe, just one letter decrying our coverage of Mandy Moore in the July-August issue (we'll print that letter next issue, as we do value reader feedback of all sorts). This comes as a somewhat welcome surprise to me, I suppose, as I half-expected a solid flurry of them. Perhaps my brief comments on the piece in the Hello Stranger column went some ways toward addressing the matter, but in any event, I do think it's worth digging into the subject a little further, as noted in last week's blog.

I think what it boils down to, the way I see it, is that everybody deserves a second chance. Mandy Moore made some pretty bad decisions, musically at least, right outta the gate -- but who of us didn't make some pretty bad decisions during our teenage years? Probably every one of us turned out at least somewhat different than we expected to, different from what we envisioned our future selves to be in our mid-teens. That's OK; that's life, ultimately. As Nick Lowe so succintly reminds on one of the best tracks from his new album At My Age: "People change, that's the long and short of it."

So her first couple albums (released when she was 15 and 17, respectively) weren't worth the time of day. If she'd stuck with that same bubblegum stance for the rest of her career, obviously we'd not be paying attention in our pages; frankly, if that were the case, I'm not sure I'd even know who she was. Indeed, until a couple years ago I had only the vaguest notion of her identity; hers was a name I'd heard, lumped in with the post-Britney megapop slop, an actress or a singer or something, I didn't really know and I definitely didn't care.

My eyebrows were raised slightly in 2003, when Moore's Coverage album included songs by the likes of XTC, Todd Rundgren, Joe Jackson, John Hiatt and the Waterboys. Ultimately it wasn't all that good a record -- a nice try, but she didn't really connect with the material very well -- yet it was at least a smoke-signal of sorts that, hey, maybe this gal actually liked good music, and listened to good music, even if she didn't know how to make it herself yet. At that point, Moore was still not 20; she had plenty of time to find her own voice as an artist, if she so desired.

The hints started coming about a year ago. Talking with Steve Tannen and Deb Talan of the Weepies, who made one of 2006's best pop records, after a show in Seattle, I learned that they'd been recruited to write and record with Moore for an upcoming album. Later on came word that she'd also tapped the fine Boston songwriter Lori McKenna for collaboration. If the first step to success is surrounding yourself with good people, Moore seemed well on her way.

The end result, Wild Hope, plainly erases all doubt, and renders her past musical mistakes moot. If I had to ballpark it stylistically, I'd figure somewhere between Sam Phillips and Shawn Colvin; granted, Moore isn't as mature as either of those artists as a lyricist, but her sense of a fine folk-pop melody ranks right up there in their company. And if the lyrics aren't quite her strong point (yet), she never embarrasses herself, and most importantly, the words marry well to the music.

There may be better pure-pop albums released in 2007, but there won't be many. If Wild Hope is a career-changing moment for Moore, it's also a lesson for the rest of us: People change, indeed, and sometimes that can be a really beautiful thing to behold.

adios,
peter

Posted by Peter at 10:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

July 13, 2007

* "things don't change...."

In today's mail I received a copy of a new album from Smashing Pumpkins bearing the title Zeitgeist.

I hereby formally request -- nay, implore -- John Croslin, Kim Longacre, Cindy Toth and Garrett Williams to reunite for the sole and explicit purpose of recording and releasing a new album to be titled Smashing Pumpkins.

signed,
former Zeitgeist fan club newsletter editor

P.S. -- There is apparently no truth to the rumor that James Iha won out in an argument over the name of the new album with Billy Corgan, who wanted to call it True Believers.

Posted by Peter at 4:41 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

July 10, 2007

* ND #70 Revisited

In the wake of our summer break and last week's blog about it, I passed over my usual hindsight-review of the new issue that's on the stands, so let's take a look at that now. Here's a few thoughts about the stories and reviews in our July-August issue, which you may well have already seen by now....

* To follow-up our news-page item on the Gary Louris solo album, it now has a release date set -- January 29 on Rykodisc. Vinyl-heads can get an early listen via an LP release set for December 18; there will also be a digital EP on November 13 (no word yet on whether that'll include tracks from the album or if it'll be outtakes not included on the final version). Still nothing set for the duo album Louris and his former Jayhawks mate Mark Olson have also completed.

* Peter Cooper's review of what was ostensibly Jerry Jeff Walker's final Birthday Bash at the Paramount in Austin on March 31 brought a twinge of nostalgic sadness. Although I don't think I ever actually attended one of the shows, I remember them being a big deal "back in the day" when I was coming of age amid the Austin music scene of the mid-1980s. If they weren't quite Willie's July 4th Picnic, they were still something special and uniquely Austin, a way for the town to annually acknowledge one of their foremost musical figures.

Walker's birthday is actually March 16, but he's held his party a couple weeks later for the last decade or so, ever since SXSW usurped the entire city during the week in which his true birthday falls. That was an unfortunate coincidence, as Jerry Jeff had earned the right to have a day to himself in Austin. While he's largely coasted off his outlaw-period prime for the past quarter-century (almost all his best-known songs were written in the '70s), he accomplished enough during that heyday to hold a permanent slot in the top tier of the Texas troubadour pantheon. Much of the modern-day "Texas music" crowd (whether or not you care much for the likes of Pat Green, Cory Morrow et al.) can be traced back almost directly to Jerry Jeff (running through Robert Earl Keen Jr. along the way). And it's worth noting that Guy Clark's memorable song "Ramblin' Jack And Mahan" was written about an endless night on the heels of a Walker Birthday Bash many moons ago.

If it's time for Walker to ride off into the sunset, that's perfectly understandable. The best we can do is simply tip our hat to him, as he did to us on the cover of Ridin' High:

* An amusing aside about the lead photo to the Cherryholmes piece, which was shot by Jon C. Hancock in Denton, North Carolina: Originally we'd attempted to shoot the band at Merlefest just after their Thursday-night performance on the mainstage. A Wilkes Community College photography student named Amber kindly and patiently took some shots backstage that ended being good but not quite right simply because it was pitch-dark by the time Cherryholmes left the stage. The funny thing was, the shot we ran from Hancock actually ended up having quite a similar setting: along a wooden railing, with trees in the background. The only real differences being that the band stood in front of the railing in Amber's shot, and you couldn't see the beautiful trees on the Merlefest grounds in her shot because of the darkness. Still, seeing Hancock's photo made me do a double-take, given how similar the scenes were.

* I've probably got a fair bit to say about the Mandy Moore piece, but I'll save that for a future blog where I'll expound at more length than the quick bits I'm seeking to include here. Just so's you know, covering Moore in ND was mainly my idea, so blame me if you think it's heresy, but first and foremost, listen to the record before you decide. Once I'd heard Wild Hope, it just didn't seem like much of a stretch at all, to me.

adios,
peter

Posted by Peter at 11:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

July 3, 2007

* "What I did on my summer vacation"

Apologies for not having kept up with my usual Tuesday blog entry for the past couple weeks. Lisa & I got our summer vacation out of the way right on schedule with the solstice this year, leaving June 20th and returning at the end of the month.

As we will soon be moving from the Pacific Northwest back to North Carolina, we decided to check out some of the beautiful areas of this region that we'd not yet visited during our three years here together. After taking a ferry to Victoria and then another to Vancouver (where our frequent ND contributor Mike Usinger, music editor of Vancouver's alt-weekly the Georgia Straight, kindly welcomed us to town), we headed east toward the continental divide and the Canadian national parks of Jasper and Banff, to be followed by our own country's Glacier National Park in Montana.

Banff is of course a world-class ski destination in winter, and still a beautiful area in the summer (highlighted by the spectacular Mt. Rundle), but we found its downtown to be not at all what we had in mind for a remote mountain getaway. Jasper, on the other hand, pretty much blew us both away, from the moment we saw a wolf on the roadside on our way in to the two days we stayed in the ideally rustic Miette Hot Springs Bungalows to the full day of driving along the Icefields Parkway experiencing everything from a glacier-up-close hike (Mt. Edith Cavell) to a ferociously overpowering river chasm (Athabasca Falls) to a veritable blizzard just three days after the summer solstice (at the Icefields Centre). My sentimental favorite scene was the Endless Chain Range, which I believe should be rechristened the Bob Ross Mountains, given their striking similarity to the slanted peaks the late PBS painter frequently creates on his canvas:

A hike at Lake Louise (our third of five straight hiking days) rewarded laborious uphill exertion with terrific views from a fully-operational teahouse at the top (we had the hot chocolate and the peanut butter powerballs), amid a meteorological smorgasbord that included sun sparkling off the waters of Mirror Lake to sleet flurries when we reached the teahouse just a few minutes later. The weather changed frequently and dramatically over the first few days of our trip, but calmed considerably when we reached Glacier Park, enough to produce this postcard-esque sunrise photo:

While at Glacier we basically shifted gears from hiking to watersports (canoeing on Swiftcurrent Lake, motorboating on Lake McDonald, whitewater-rafting on the Flathead River), finally returning home via the spectacular North Cascades along Highway 20, where we had a fascinating encounter with a vintage-camera photographer named Bruce Turner who was poised to hopefully capture a spectacular shot at the Washington Pass overlook:

We finally returned the same way we began, via ferry, from Whidbey Island back to our home on the Kitsap Peninsula. Along the way we listened (just to add the obligatory musical content) to new stuff from Peter Case, Mary Gauthier, Linda Thompson, and Erik Friedlander, among others...and our instrumental favorite for crossing this part of the country, "Northern Plains" by George Winston.

Now, on to those giant tubs full of mail with even more new stuff awaiting....

adios,
peter

Posted by Peter at 11:53 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)