Cover to Cover

‘Tis always a dangerous thing when an icon most associated with a particular genre of music crosses the invisible boundaries over into another, especially when said icon has achieved legendary status and who’s work has left a great and lasting impact for all time in his or her “usual” field of music. Fans of these iconic figures too often develop utopian expectations by setting unrealistic demands that every word, every note must be groundbreaking, earth shattering and above all, their work must exceedingly surpass all those other words and notes that came before, while at the same time, not deviating too far from an “expected” overall sound. And fans of the genre being crossed into often view an artist who strays into their “turf” as jumping on some bandwagon, or using the genre to find a new audience for a flagging career and don’t take either the release or the artist seriously. While certainly not all of these “excursions” might be of everyone’s particular taste, it’s sad that many of these people will miss out on something very special, many times without even listening to it, simply due to their own preconceived prejudices. 

Cover albums are treading into even more dangerous territory. Very often the cover never surpasses or merely results in a note for note imitation of the original, and well, why listen to a cover when you can just listen to the original? Unless a performer can find a way to present the song in a new way, interpreting it to make it his or her own, a cover is fine to include in a regular studio album, but it’s the rare performer who can pull off a whole album of them and make it really work.

We’ve gone through the “tribute album” phase that met with mixed results- some were sterling hits, while others complete misses. And the difference here is that the tribute albums were packages where a different performer contributed just one song to the project, while a single performer has the difficult task of carrying an entire cover album.

Within a short span, four legendary figures in music have each released truly remarkable albums covering songs written by people other than themselves. It’s perhaps even more truly remarkable because all but one has been a major label release. Three of them made their names in the rock genre, while the third is a country legend notorious for crossing over and dabbling in many other musical genres. What all four have in common is that their music invariably has always incorporated different elements of many genres. While Willie Nelson returns home to his Texas roots, Van Morrison focuses on the country sound that permeated much of his previous work. Dion re-visits the blues that were both a major influence to him personally and in the formation of rock & roll. And Bruce Springsteen completely shifts gears and delivers the most delightfully surprising album of his career as he explores early roots music. The common thread that runs through each album is that each man masterfully retains his own undeniable identity, while interpreting the songs of others.

They also carry on what’s becoming an increasing lost tradition of passing the music on down through the generations, and they’re now presenting this music to a generation that is most likely oblivious to it’s very existence. While many people immediately dismiss this type of album as “filler” in an artist’s career or that they’ve run out of gas and “have nothing left to say,” such generalities aren’t always the case. Sometimes in order to see where you’re going, you have to look back at where you came from. In order to grow and find inspiration you have to explore, dig deeper and often, new discoveries are made along the way. And sometimes it’s simply a case that someone wants to share a part of themselves so that others can better see and understand how they became who they are. Perhaps the most overlooked but telling thing about the following cover albums is that these artists haven’t sounded as invigorated, liberated and generally this great in years- and that in turn, has been vividly translating into their live performances. Fans can be a demanding lot, but maybe if they can get past their own expectations, often they’ll find that the artist just might know what’s best after all.  

Dion

Bronx In Blue

(Dimensional Music Recordings)

Relax people. No it’s not “Dion” as in Celine. It’s that guy from the Bronx who fronted the first commercially successful white doo-wop group, Dion & The Belmonts, in the 50s. Then he went solo in the late 50s/early 60s and cranked out another bunch of classic rock & roll hits like “Runaround Sue,” “The Wanderer,” “Ruby Baby.” And he was way ahead of his time too- the first one to use that “first name only” thing long before it became trendy (ok, before that there was Leadbelly, but I don’t know if he counts since that wasn’t his real name). Then in the late 60s he moved over towards folk music and resurfaced on the charts with “Abraham, Martin and John,” before seeming to disappear. He never really did though. He continued with his singer/songwriter material and released 8 critically acclaimed, though not commercially successful, albums for Warner Brothers before shifting gears again and he recorded a series of gospel albums, one of which earned him a Grammy nomination. And along the way, he was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame.

Now in his mid-60s, Dion (DiMucci, for the uninitiated) isn’t through yet. Bronx In Blue is his foray into blues and country-blues. Although it may sound pretty surprising to most people, it’s not at all. As a matter of fact it’s something long overdue. Since Dion was part of the birth of rock & roll, there was no rock & roll when he was growing up. The music that moved him was the blues- and what may be considered an odd choice for a kid from the tough streets of the Bronx- Hank Williams. He was a self-professed Hank Williams junkie and would rush home from school to catch the last half hour of the Don Larkin Country Show that ran on a radio station in Jersey.

Another factoid that many people aren’t aware of is that Dion is also an extremely accomplished guitarist. It’s just that during the period of rock he’s best known for, the labels’ marketed most performers, especially the doo-wop groups, which the Belmonts were considered, as strictly “vocalists,” and used studio musicians and hired bands to back them on tour, regardless of whether the singers could also play instruments. Also, during the period when American rock fell out of favor due to the British Invasion sound, Dion was looking for his direction and did turn to the blues that influenced him. He recorded a few blues albums, but none of them was ever released. He switched labels and started writing and recording more contemplative material that leaned more towards folk and incorporated touches blues into some of it.

Bronx In Blue is an acoustic affair, just Dion and his guitar, along with Hurty Gurty Man (Bob Guertin) adding some percussion. He sat down and recorded the album just in two days, the blues and country songs he carried around with him all these years just came flowing out. Bronx In Blue is mainly comprised of deeply inspired, stripped down covers of some of his favorite blues and country classics, and he tosses in two originals that fit in so seamlessly that most people only casually acquainted with the genres wouldn’t be able to pick them out of the lineup.

Dion’s not shy and doesn’t play it safe. Instead of turning to the genre’s more obscure fare which wouldn’t be held up to as much scrutiny, he boldly takes on a dozen well known classics by some the genre’s biggest heavy hitters. The majority of these songs are even well known to a majority of people who don’t consider themselves blues fans, via numerous cranked up, high decibel interpretations from rock artists that include Eric Clapton, The Allman Brothers, George Thorogood, and Led Zeppelin. Many artists in the rock genre were deeply influenced by blues and country-blues music, they adapted the songs to fit their rock & roll style and presented them to a new generation. On Bronx In Blue, Dion presents these same songs to a new generation by returning them to their original honest, gritty, stripped-down versions.

Dion channels the likes of Son House (“Walkin’ Blues”), Jimmy Rogers (“You’re The One), Bo Diddley (“Who Do You Love”), Howlin’ Wolf (“Built For Comfort,” “How Many More Years), Robert Johnson (“Crossroads,” “Travelin’ Riverside Blues,” “Terraplane Blues”), Lightnin’ Hopkins (“You Better Watch Yourself”), Hank Williams (“Honky Tonk Blues”), Jimmy Reed (“Baby What Do You Want Me To Do”), and Blind Willie McTell (“Statesboro Blues”). From the album’s opening cut “Walkin’ Blues,” as he winds his way through these classic gems, including an absolutely brilliant rendition of “Honky Tonk Blues” (which proves exactly why, in the annals of blues history, at least one chapter is always devoted to Hank Williams), Dion is loose and lets it all hang out. His two originals, “I Let My Baby Do That” and “If You Want To Rock & Roll,” are strong down and dirty compositions, most worthy of being included in the company of such greatness. On the former, he reaches back to the embrace the influence of Mississippi John Hurt, and through the swagger and bravado of the song you can clearly see the roots of his own later hit, “The Wanderer.” Dion brilliantly drives that point home as he closes out the album with the latter “If You Want To Rock & Roll,” where he combines various blues and country structures and elements together that draw the road map that led straight to rock & roll. 

Using only his soulfully raw and smoky vocals and impeccable guitar work along with a bit of minimal percussion, he lets the simplicity and power of the haunting melodies and hypnotic rhythms drive the songs. He brings it home by reminding us that it’s not loud, flashy guitar licks or the decibel level that makes these songs so enduring, but rather simple, honest emotion. The production is sterling and Bronx In Blue is a graceful, warm and intimate work where Dion is in command and manages to at once stay true to the originals while making them his own. This stuff is the real deal and Dion is no poser.  Released with little fanfare in January (though the album’s since been picked up by Razor & Tie), Bronx In Blue defies all expectations and this gem is the sleeper album of the year.

Van Morrison

Pay The Devil

(Lost Highway)

For the most part, Van Morrison’s albums over the past decade have found him exploring the music that influenced much of his own original music. Country music has been one of those influences, and only a heartbeat separates Celtic and bluegrass music. He’s also covered country songs before, most recently Jimmie Rodgers’ “Mule Skinner Blues” on his Skiffle Sessions album, and two by Hank Williams (“You Win Again” and “Jambalaya”), as well as “Crazy Arms” on his You Win Again album.  So it was neither surprising or a stretch that Van would release a full country album. The intriguing part was that the album would be primarily made up of classic country covers and was recorded in Belfast with his own band.

The interesting and overlooked aspect of Pay The Devil is that Van seems to have zeroed in on the music of three primary country music legends. Although many of the album’s songs have been recorded over the years by numerous other artists (including country greats Kitty Wells, Connie Smith, Ernest Tubb, Patsy Cline and Marty Robbins), Hank Williams is represented again, this time by three songs (“Half As Much,” “Your Cheatin’ Heart” and “My Bucket’s Got A Hole In It”), Webb Pierce by three songs (“There Stands The Glass,” “Back Street Affair” and “More & More”), while George Jones is represented by three (he covered “Half As Much” on his Salutes Hank Williams album, “Things Go To Pieces” and “Once A Day”). Those choices add up to more that half of the album’s tracks, with another three being Van Morrison originals, and finds him drawing from sources as diverse as the bawdiness of ‘30s era blues to the lush sounds of Conway Twitty to the contemporary soul searching sensibilities of Rodney Crowell.

Pay The Devil opens with a gutsy rendition of “There Stands The Glass.” I appear to be in the vast minority here (but hey, I also utterly despise Jones’ “He Stopped Loving Her Today,” though his recent re-make is far more tolerable), but I was greatly under-whelmed and started thinking that maybe this album wasn’t going to be what I was eagerly hoping for after all. It’s not an awful rendition; it’s just that I was expecting country as channeled through Van and the deliberate choppiness he sings with, sounds more like he was too consciously trying to sound like someone other than himself. I will qualify that by saying that although I am disappointed with the album version- in a live setting he delivers a version that very much lives up to my original expectation.

My expectations were thankfully salvaged with the album’s second track, “Half As Much.” Back was that trademark, soulfully bluesy voice delivering a playful, shuffling version as steel and fiddle gently swayed behind him. He offers up a terrific shuffling country-blues cover of “Your Cheatin’ Heart,” a funky, toe tapping honkabilly “My Bucket’s Got A Hole In It,” and a dose of barroom soul on “Back Street Affair.” “Once A Day” is given a kitschy full blown countrypolitian treatment- complete with strings and retro sounding backing vocals, while he delivers “More & More,” as a great, fairly straightforward honky tonk shuffle.

Among the album’s standouts, sung with a whiskey soaked wail, the weeper “Things Have Gone To Pieces,” oozes with enough heartache and mournful desolation that Van does indeed manage to successfully separate the song from George Jones while still evoking him. And although many performers have covered “Big Blue Diamonds,” the song’s always remained rather innocuous and no one’s ever recorded what could be called a definitive version. Here, Van takes the song and just sings the hell out of it. He puts his stamp on it by turning in a strong, soulful rendition that would easily fit on just about any Van Morrison album.

For me, there are three songs that are particular highlights. Van digs back and dusts off an old 30s era blues song, Blue Lu Barker’s bawdy “Don’t You Get Me High.” Here Van cuts loose and has some devilish fun delivering a steady stream of innuendo in an utterly infectious and playful rendition. He positively soars on the swaying “What Am I Living For,” making it his own by turning into pure classic Van Morrison soul, and he drops a real gem at the end with one of, if not the, strongest covers of “Till I Gain Control” ever done. It’s a quietly shimmering arrangement, with gently weeping steel and lonesome fiddle framing mournfully soulful vocals that overflow with regret, sadness and heartache.

The album’s three originals fit in seamlessly among the covers. “Playhouse” is a rollicking Delta country-blues that combines slide guitar, fiddle, and dobro with growling vocals. In the shuffling title track, “Pay The Devil,” Van doesn’t break what’s become tradition for him, and addresses people who keep trying to pigeonhole him. The laid back, shuffling “This Has Got To Stop” is a delightful, laid back shuffle filled with flourishes of twin fiddle that proves Van can write a terrific country song with the best of them.

Pay The Devil will undoubtedly once again divide Van Morrison’s fans, but he tends to be in a “damned if he does and damned if he doesn’t” position in that regard anymore. Others will simply dismiss it because it’s primarily an album of covers…and somewhat dusty ones at that. That would be their loss, because Van hasn’t sounded this invigorated in years- and since recording this album, that’s also translating into his live concerts, which previous to this current tour have been dicey propositions at best these days. It’s also not an easy thing, especially for someone who writes his own music, to interpret other people’s songs- and interpret them well. Van not only accomplished that, but he also made a gutsy choice to tackle a few classics that are so closely associated with certain performers like George Jones and Webb Pierce and more than succeeded at doing them justice.

 Pay The Devil is an album of traditional country songs, but as always, no matter what kind of music he sings, in the end it can’t help but inevitably come out as anything other than being “Van Morrison.” Here he delves into the music and uncovers the blues that beats within country music’s heart and once he’s found it, he sings the hell out of it with honest emotion and sincerity. People most often find their inspiration by simply following one’s muse. Sometimes inspiration is found in somewhat unlikely places, but once it is found, great things often follow. Van Morrison seems to have found his inspiration while exploring his country influences and a great thing called Pay The Devil followed.  

Willie Nelson

You Don’t Know Me: The Songs Of Cindy Walker

(Lost Highway)

 With his latest release, You Don’t Know Me: The Songs Of Cindy Walker, Willie makes a triumphant return to his Texas roots, and in the process, also accomplishes a few other things along the way. He pays tribute to the great, but often underrated songwriter, Cindy Walker, who penned over 500 songs during her career, with dozens of them being chart toppers; he shines the spotlight on the true depth and diversity of her songwriting skill; it’s a tip of the hat to Bob Wills, many of whose best known songs were written by Cindy and who was both a hero and musical influence to Willie; and it continues to prove Willie to be a master of interpreting the songs of other songwriters.

With veteran producer Fred Foster at the helm, as with his last release, the acclaimed It Will Always Be, Willie returns to the studio backed by a group of A-list session musicians that includes ex-Texas Playboy Johnny Gimble on fiddle, and steel wiz Buddy Emmons. The legendary Jordanaires provide stellar backup vocals throughout the album.

The album opens strongly with “Bubbles In My Beer,” that despite its bouncy Western Swing melody, the lyrics are actually a look at a man forlornly sitting on a barstool reflecting on all the missed chances and wasted time in his life. Willie masterfully pulls off conveying a tone of deep regret amidst the upbeat melody. He also manages the same feat, though this time imparting disappointment and indignation at being spurned on “It’s All Your Fault.” He’s completely in his element on the album’s other swing numbers as well. He delivers pursuit of a love (“Sugar Moon,” the western flavored “Cherokee Maiden,” and “Miss Molly”) with a relaxed, understated, but wicked playfulness. He takes the lyrics to “Don’t Be Ashamed Of Your Age” to heart as he infuses a downright gleeful devil-may-care attitude into this lighthearted romp.

Backed by the Jordanaires, Willie provides an absolutely breathtaking rendition of the mournful of the cowboy ballad, “Dusty Skies.” He brilliantly wrings every drop of sincere emotion out of the tales of heartache and loneliness, again through an understated approach rather than taking them over the top. Successfully, Willie unsuccessfully attempts to hide his heartache and pretend not to care about the new love of his ex-lover in “Not That I Care.” He wistfully pines to be back in the arms of an ex-love in “Take Me In Your Arms,” and delivers a gorgeous rendition of Cindy’s best known song, “You Don’t Know Me,” about the heartache and longing of an unrequited love. Through the tenderness, he also turns a bit pragmatic on the western flavored ballad, “I Don’t Care,” a song about forgetting the past to secure love for “from now on.” Weeping steel drives the classic barroom heartache weeper, “Warm Red Wine,” while a melancholy wistfulness runs through the torchy “Just Walking Out,” the tale of a true love that unfortunately returns too late.

The pairing of Willie Nelson and Cindy Walker is a match made in heaven, and an album in tribute to Cindy Walker and her great contributions to country music is something that was long overdue. It’s obvious that this one was a labor of love for Willie. Though his voice is as warm and distinctive as ever, where he’s known for he unique phrasing and behind the beat singing style, Willie plays this one straight, he vocals focused and staying on beat. While his phrasing still remains razor sharp, he delivers the songs with no-frills old-school arrangements instead of updating them, stays on the straight and narrow and sings them with an authority that seems completely second nature to him. The warm, relaxed atmosphere combined with Willie’s heartfelt love for this music allows the greatness of the songs to brilliantly shine through. The fact that Cindy passed away just a week after the release of this album makes it all the more poignant. You Don’t Know Me rates as one of Willie’s true masterpieces and the creation of a timeless classic.

Bruce Springsteen

We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions

(Columbia)

Much speculation began to swirl when word got out that Bruce was releasing a new album so soon on the heels of last year’s release, Devils & Dust, and the fact that he’d just finished touring behind it. This was something unexpected for Bruce fans, since he’s better known for long stretches between albums. Hopes were high among fans that it would be a new album with the E Street Band. We were happy and appreciative to have The Rising, but the subject matter makes it a tough listen and not quite the purely joyous E Street reunion that we’d been long awaiting. Alas no, it wouldn’t be. When it was announced the new album would be The Seeger Sessions, disappointment ran through the backstreets. Springsteen fans are deeply divided into two camps, those that don’t care at all for an “E Street-less Bruce” and feel anything else is “less than Bruce,” and those that like him either way and find his side trips compelling. The former camp was immediately turned off and dejectedly (but respectfully) vowed to take another pass. The latter camp wondered would the new album be Devils & Dust Part II, another raw & desolate Ghost Of Tom Joad, or more like the darkly stark Nebraska- (all gripping albums, though mostly deep and challenging listens)?

Then a few weeks prior to the album’s release, a video for the cut “John Henry” surfaced. Whoa, hold on! Banjo, accordion, fiddles, Dixieland horns…and people casually sitting around playing their instruments and singing together in the same room- having a grand time! And wait a minute- this is an old traditional folk song…but my head’s bopping and my foot’s tapping. Hey- what is this, what’s going on here? It definitely wasn’t the “rock” Bruce and it definitely wasn’t the stark and earnest “folk” Bruce that we’d become accustomed to. This was a totally different and unexpected side of Bruce.

The Seeger Sessions stems out of a tribute album to the music of Pete Seeger that Bruce contributed to back in ’97. At that point, he wasn’t very familiar with much of Seeger’s work or his legacy, but became interested during the course of working on the tribute project and started delving into Seeger’s work. And so the seeds for The Seeger Sessions were sown. Despite the album’s title, The Seeger Sessions doesn’t contain a single Pete Seeger penned song, although Pete did make a few lyrical changes on a few of them as he adapted them to reflect the current times. Instead, it’s a collection of old traditional and Public Domain songs from the 19^th and early 20^th century that Seeger had dusted off and presented to a new generation of people, so it’s actually more of a nod to the “Seeger spirit” of music: passing it on down. The album was recorded in the span of 3 days (though not consecutive), live as it happened without rehearsals, with a group of musicians he’d met through Soozie Tyrell and had never previously played a note with before (with the exception of wife Patti, Soozie Tyrell and a few members of the Miami Horns).

Just as the video for “John Henry” hinted- this ain’t your daddy’s folk music. While it has it’s quietly poignant moments where called for, for the most part, despite the often dark topics of poverty, war, injustice, and class warfare, it’s full of sheer energetic, raucous, rambunctious joy. It’s folk- charged with a massive infusion of country, blues, gospel, Dixieland, Zydeco, and Celtic that creates a glorious Americana hybrid and results in a full-blown celebration of music. When was the last time a “folk” album inspired anyone to pump up the volume to full blast and shake your booty?

Most of the album’s uptempo songs are done to a two-step beat as in the jug band delivery of “Old Dan Tucker,” and “Jesse James,” the outlaw ballad that he’s transformed into a rowdy bayou flavored number. He gives a rollicking and decidedly country rendition of “John Henry,” and which often reflects a lot of the power of the Johnny Cash version. With a western flavor and soaring fiddles, he nails the Dust Bowl tale of a man’s perseverance to start his life over after losing everything except his life and his mortgage to a twister in, “My Oklahoma Home.” Although it raised a few eyebrows (but hey, even Dylan covered it!), Bruce resurrects what’s often regarded as a children’s song, “Froggy Went A Courtin’,” and turns it into a charming back porch toe-tapper.

He veers masterfully off into the realm of Celtic with utterly gorgeous renditions of the poignant traditional anti-war ballad “Mrs. McGrath,” and “Shenandoah,” the mournful lament of a homesick immigrant. Included in the album is his cut, “We Shall Overcome,” off of the Where Have All The Flowers Gone tribute album, a song that’s gone on to become the most well known and important political protest song of all time, and he proves the song to be timeless. Bruce delivers a gracefully understated rendition, one filled with a quite strength where he seemingly conveys the hope and faith that we will overcome the deep divisions we’re experiencing today.

Nothing in the remaining songs on the album end up from where they start, which along with the above mentioned ballads, make them the highlights of the album. Bruce pulls out another song most people of a certain age learned as children in school, “Erie Canal.” The song starts out straightforward enough, then the melody takes a hauntingly bluesy turn that segues into some New Orleans flavored back alley ragtime. Bruce cleverly tosses a few current day references into “Pay Me My Money Down,” that begins as a sea chantey sing-a-long, gradually moves into a Zydeco two-stepper and builds to a swaggering, raucous bayou romp. Bruce takes a trio of old spirituals to soaring new heights and result in the album’s finest soul shaking moments. “Eye On The Prize,” opens with a hauntingly dark gospel/bluegrass influence before exploding into intertwined bursts of ragtime, while “Jacob’s Ladder” is presented with a gloriously ragged, roof raising “gospel by way of New Orleans Dixieland” arrangement. The album’s knockout punch comes with a powerful bayou flavored rendition of “Oh Mary Don’t You Weep,” a song that eventually found it’s way into the Civil Rights Movement.

Bruce is notorious for being a perfectionist, agonizing over every arrangement and every note. The Seeger Sessions finds him loose, relaxed, spontaneous, and just going with the flow- letting the music lead him to it’s destination and he seems to enjoy and savor every moment of it. True perfection often comes out of imperfection. This is music that unconsciously originated with common people, born out of common causes. It’s the music that emanated from the churches, the working fields and porches, both across America and the around the world. It was never meant to be perfect- or marketed and sold. Its sole purpose was serving as the voice of the common man, a voice Bruce already championed from the start of this career. Despite some people’s claims that they just can’t relate to these old tunes, perhaps if they took the time to listen more closely they just might find they can. As much as things have changed over the generations and years, many of struggles we faced may have changed, but struggles, as well as triumphs, still indeed exist. The Seeger Sessions isn’t Bruce’s familiar “rock” voice championing the working class, nor is it his grittier, more reflective “folk” voice. He’s found a new voice that falls somewhere in the middle, and as he continues to give voice to the common man, he’s found a new way to do that too…in the spirit of Pete Seeger, he carries on the tradition of passing it on down. The sterling release O Brother, presented roots music in its purest, most traditional form to a new generation that welcomed it with open arms. The Seeger Sessions creatively pushes roots music up several notches and the result is an utterly euphoric gumbo of foot stomping, roof raising Americana music…one that could be easily viewed as a livelier, catchier effort that picks up where O Brother left off.

AnnMarie Harrington TakeCountryBack March 2006