When the Cover Beats the Original
Let's face it, anyone with a modicum of talent can play a decent cover song. 99% of the time, the cover band is playing a fanboy tribute to the original recording, down to the note, the slightest inflection.
Occasionally, taking it one step further, an artist can claim absolute ownership of a song with a clever arrangement, better phrasing and a touch of soul, as Sinatra did to Wayne Newton, turning a jaunty, minor pop tune into a soulful ballad full of longing, mixing memory and desire.
But to remake the very essence of a tune, to redefine it--to discover it's true nature, to free it from it's ill-fitting chrysalis to become the butterfly it was always destined to be--well, that is true genius, indeed.
Case in point: Take a run-of-the-mill pop song that would have sunk quickly and without a trace were it not saved by the boobs in a lowbrow video featuring blank-eyed coke-head super models prancing topless back and forth in front of the camera (the horror). Enter Robyn Adele Anderson in her Daisy Dukes (clearly the "hottest gal in the barn") to turn Blurred Lines into a rollicking Hillbilly Hoedown:
No need of a giant foam finger to make a point for Robyn.
Or, take a heavily autotuned run-of-the-mill pop tune that wouldn't have sunk without a trace because, frankly,it has a decent hook, but belt it out as a 30's ragtime Torch Song:
OK, you're saying to yourselves, a great backing combo, a sultry look, powerful voice and a pair of gams that go all the way to the floor and back would sway anyone. But what about the clowns? What, indeed:
Occasionally, taking it one step further, an artist can claim absolute ownership of a song with a clever arrangement, better phrasing and a touch of soul, as Sinatra did to Wayne Newton, turning a jaunty, minor pop tune into a soulful ballad full of longing, mixing memory and desire.
But to remake the very essence of a tune, to redefine it--to discover it's true nature, to free it from it's ill-fitting chrysalis to become the butterfly it was always destined to be--well, that is true genius, indeed.
Case in point: Take a run-of-the-mill pop song that would have sunk quickly and without a trace were it not saved by the boobs in a lowbrow video featuring blank-eyed coke-head super models prancing topless back and forth in front of the camera (the horror). Enter Robyn Adele Anderson in her Daisy Dukes (clearly the "hottest gal in the barn") to turn Blurred Lines into a rollicking Hillbilly Hoedown:
No need of a giant foam finger to make a point for Robyn.
Or, take a heavily autotuned run-of-the-mill pop tune that wouldn't have sunk without a trace because, frankly,it has a decent hook, but belt it out as a 30's ragtime Torch Song:
OK, you're saying to yourselves, a great backing combo, a sultry look, powerful voice and a pair of gams that go all the way to the floor and back would sway anyone. But what about the clowns? What, indeed:
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