Write on Music's Dozen Covers to Love 2015

The best of people playing other people’s songs... These are Write on Music’s dozen covers to love from 2015:

“Come and Get It” – The Hollywood Vampires
Album: Hollywood Vampires (UMe)

To merit its inclusion here, this selection needs an alibi of sorts — this cover needs a “cover,” if you will: Originally a #1 US (#4 UK) hit by Badfinger as the theme to the 1969 Peter Sellers/Ringo Starr film The Magic Christian, the song was written by Paul McCartney when The Beatles were convening to record Abbey Road. While McCartney recorded a one-man-band demo at the time (which was ultimately released in 1996 on The Beatles Anthology 3), neither he nor the Fab Four ever released a proper studio version of this song.

And so that’s what qualifies this version of “Come and Get It” as a cover. But the synergy between McCartney and the Hollywood Vampires — the band includes Alice Cooper, Joe Perry, and Johnny Depp, with Macca’s drummer Abe Laboriel, Jr. holding down the fort on this particular session — is what makes it magic. 



“(I'm A) Roadrunner” – Paul Weller
Album: Saturns Pattern (Warner Brothers Records/Parlophone)

The Modfather’s love of Motown is a fundamental one, infusing everything from The Jam’s “Town Called Malice” to solo cuts like “Above the Clouds” and “No Tears to Cry.” On this 1965 Jr. Walker & The All Stars rave-up, Weller brings a piano to the forefront (as opposed to the Funk Brothers’ primary guitar-and-saxophone combo on the original) which gives the song a bit slower but steadier pace — holding down the groove like the vintage chassis of a Detroit muscle car hugging the open road.



“Harper Valley PTA” – Squeeze
Album: Cradle to the Grave [Deluxe Version] (Caroline Records)

Life is simply all the more enjoyable when there is new music from Squeeze in the world. And the beloved British band certainly doesn’t disappoint with Cradle to Grave, which often recalls Chris Difford and Glenn Tilbrook’s quintessential chemistry as masterful pop songwriters even as it strives for fresh exuberance. The 16-song deluxe version of the album is the one to get, not least for its inclusion of a Difford-led acoustic cover of Tom Waits’ “I Don’t Want to Grow Up” and a full-band romp through this Jeannie C. Riley classic (written by Tom T. Hall), which with its storytelling lyricism and unbridled quirkiness sounds like it could’ve been yet another Squeeze classic in an alternate universe.



“A Spoonful of Sugar” – Kacey Musgraves
Album: We Love Disney (Verve Music Group)

Since hitting the big time with her 2013 LP Same Trailer Different Park (and its lead single “Merry Go ‘Round”), Musgraves has lit a spark (and a couple of joints, at least in her songs) under the male-dominated Nashville establishment, demonstrating the sort of serious craft and colorful kitsch that feels reminiscent of classic Dolly Parton or Loretta Lynn records. Her talent and ties to such a fabled tradition continue to flourish on her latest album Pageant Material while, on this most-adorable rendition of the Mary Poppins gem, Musgraves is downright supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.



“Don't Think Twice, It's Alright” – Willie Nelson & Merle Haggard
Album: Django and Jimmie (Legacy Recordings)

Including a Bob Dylan song on a “best covers” list almost seems compulsory by now, but this rendition is more than a little special, and not least because of who’s doing the rendering. It was always a kiss-off song anyway, but here Nelson and Haggard evoke a shared wistfulness that could only come from each man having lived his own life on his own terms, tempting and sidestepping perilous, sacrificial fates with not always equal success. Call it reasoned contempt or maybe just chock it up to a certain kind of wisdom, but Dylan could not have foreseen such impressions emerging from this song back when he was writing it as a much younger man — at least not like this.  



“Have You Ever Seen the Rain?” – Allison Moorer
Album: Down to Believing (Entertainment One Music)

Whether she’s written a particular song or not, Moorer is better than most at getting to the essence of whatever emotion or experience she’s singing about. Maybe that comes from having a low tolerance for bullshit, or maybe it just comes from knowing what needs to be said and how to best get that across. Chances are she’s blessed with both attributes, and on this Creedence Clearwater Revival classic (written by John Fogerty), Moorer invests all of her soulful Southern heart and leaves you feeling like you appreciate the song, and maybe even yourself, a little better.  



“Up Above My Head” – Rhiannon Giddens
Album: Tomorrow is My Turn (Nonesuch Records)

“This is a pillar of American music,” Rhiannon Giddens told Write on Music last year in reference to Sister Rosetta Tharpe, the too-often-unsung yet seminal vocalist, songwriter, and guitarist behind this and so many other groundbreaking songs. “It’s like, you cannot deny her influence and yet people don’t know who she is. That’s a problem for me because it continues to reflect the narrative of American music where the black artist is the innovator and then gets forgotten about.” Consider the inclusion and praise here of Giddens interpreting Tharpe with such sanctified jubilance — the performance is but one highlight of an album teeming with them — as a nudge in the right direction. 



“Peace Like a River” – Jerry Lawson
Album: Just a Mortal Man (Red Beet Records)

Pure and simple, 2015’s finest debut album was a half century in the making. As the lead vocalist of the legendary a cappella group The Persuasions for more than 40 years, Jerry Lawson has sung the works of, well, everyone — from The Beatles and Bob Dylan to Curtis Mayfield and Solomon Burke. Indeed the group, which got its big break courtesy of Frank Zappa in the late ‘60s, has also sung on albums by the likes of Joni Mitchell (Shadows and Light) and Stevie Wonder (Fulfillingness’ First Finale), among many, many others. 

Just A Mortal Man, released last April, is Lawson’s first as a solo artist, and it’s nothing short of brilliant. The man lives and breathes in these songs with consummate authenticity and soul, giving moments like “Time and Water” and the aching ballad “Loving Arms” a shiver of sheer vulnerability. To open the album and in some ways to set the tone for it throughout, Lawson gives Paul Simon’s “Peace Like a River” a renewed sense of gravitas and grace, instilling it with the resilience of one who has withstood time’s adversities to now stand triumphant.



“Love is the Answer” – Rumer
Album: Love is the Answer [EP] (Nightowl Records)

Over the past half-decade since her debut LP Seasons of My Soul (and its immaculate breakout single “Aretha”), Rumer’s gorgeous talent has entranced an ever-growing amount of listeners the world over, including some of the very artists that first inspired her own musical pursuits and passions. Both as a songwriter and an interpreter, Rumer (born Sarah Joyce) has often reflected a retro elegance in her music, whether inspirited by the works of Burt Bacharach and Hal David, Jimmy Webb, or the ‘70s singer/songwriter scene in California’s Laurel Canyon. 

In fact, her sophomore LP Boys Don’t Cry found Rumer interpreting songs originally written by such fabled ‘70s singer/songwriters as Neil Young, Townes Van Zandt, and Todd Rundgren, whose “Be Nice to Me” was among the album’s highlights. With the title track to her recently released EP Love is the Answer, Rumer revisits Rundgren with similarly breathtaking results. 



“Love Don’t Love Nobody” – Boz Scaggs
Album: A Fool to Care (429 Records)

“I can’t think of any genre of music that doesn’t fascinate me in terms of a vocalist and a melody,” Boz Scaggs told Write on Music in reference to the vintage R&B and the urbanized rock ‘n’ roll he performed on his 2013 LP Memphis. “A singer and a song is just a fascinating study for me.” A similar (and similarly rewarding) experiment continued with last year’s follow-up, A Fool to Care, which includes such standout interpretive moments as the Impressions’ “I’m So Proud,” Al Green’s “Full of Fire,” and, especially, this soul-coated masterclass of the Spinners’ “Love Don’t Love Nobody.” 



“Sorry Seems to Be The Hardest Word” – Diana Krall
Album: Wallflower (Verve Music Group)

As some moments chronicled the dissolution of lyricist Bernie Taupin’s first marriage, Elton John’s 1976 double LP Blue Moves was often somber to behold. Yet with her melancholic vocal tone and rich phrasing, Diana Krall takes that album’s most recognized track to new emotional depths. Where Elton sounds damn near desperate to hold onto what he’s got – “What do I do to make you want me?” – Krall sounds like the end is already a done deal. 



“Why Try to Change Me Now?” – Bob Dylan
Album: Shadows in the Night (Columbia Records)

Maybe there’s a connection between being able to write great songs and being able to recognize greatness in the songs of others. If so, Bob Dylan could safely be said to have singular insight on the matter, and with Shadows in the Night he not only underscores the craft of Sinatra’s repertoire but so too the emotional architecture he inhabited within it. At the same time, particularly in moments like this, Dylan brings his own baggage and, in ways not unlike those of Ol’ Blue Eyes himself, summons a moment of utter transcendence.

Read on...

Learning Curves and Musical Curiosities: An Interview with Rhiannon Giddens

Now is the time for Rhiannon Giddens.

Having followed her muse beyond the homegrown string-band tableau she’d cultivated for the last decade as a founding member of the GRAMMY® award-winning Carolina Chocolate Drops, she has of late expanded her musical palette to reveal an even richer promise. 

Released back in February to become one of 2015’s most celebrated works, Tomorrow is My Turn finds Giddens mostly interpreting songs popularized by such female musical forbears as Patsy Cline, Sister Rosetta Tharpe, Geeshie Wiley, and Dolly Parton. Produced by T-Bone Burnett, the album reveals an already gifted artist coming into her own while at the same time standing on the shoulders of giants.

“My only hope,” Giddens told Write on Music earlier this year, “is that I honor the work that they’ve done and hopefully carry it forward. That’s all we can ever hope as artists is to honor the past and to keep it moving.”

A similar scenario unfolded when Giddens was last year recruited by Burnett for the LP Lost On The River (The New Basement Tapes) — along with Taylor Goldsmith (Dawes), Marcus Mumford (Mumford & Sons), Jim James (My Morning Jacket), and Elvis Costello — to compose music for a batch of newly discovered Bob Dylan lyrics dating back to The Basement Tapes. Her lead-vocal performance of “Spanish Mary,” in particular, is among the set’s most exhilarating moments.

Tomorrow is My Turn represents a new beginning for you yet you’re using this opportunity to shine a light on, particularly, female singers whose careers have preceded your own. How did that direction take shape? Was that something you wanted to pursue or did it come from Mr. Burnett?

It definitely came from me. It was just sort of this idea that I’d had brewing a little bit that I wasn’t going to put it to the Chocolate Drops to record because it’s a slightly different thing. So I was kind of holding onto it until T-Bone came asking about doing a record. That’s when I kind of went, “Well, what about this idea?” He thought it was a great idea and he loved most of the song choices that I’d made. He tweaked a couple of them. But, yeah, it came from me. I’m real pleased we were able to do it.

The album’s not strictly pop or soul or R&B or folk, yet it’s all of those in some way.

That’s how I think, you know? The Chocolate Drops are a totally different kind of thing within a certain limitation, and this was kind of similar. I did make decisions about how far I was going to go as far as the songs I was pulling from. It’s kind of like a “feel” thing. I wanted to stick to stuff that was more rootsy and connected to the stuff that I already sort of do, for this record. I had a feel about how far I wanted to go. And there were some choices that were made in terms of the songs we left off the album that reflect that too. Like, “Well, this doesn’t quite fit. We’ve got a little narrative or a little cohesion going here and this doesn’t really fit so I’ll have to leave it off.” Throughout the whole process there was a pruning that was kind of going on.

The Sister Rosetta Tharpe song [“Up Above My Head”] is really funky.

Yeah, she’s amazing. Throughout this process she’s one of the ones that comes to the forefront of people that I want to try to highlight and to say, “This is not just some obscure… It’s not like Geeshie Wiley, some obscure blues woman that you should know who it is. This is a pillar of American music.” I mean, she is unbelievably important in terms of her influence and to what became rock ‘n’ roll guitar is unimpeachable. It’s like, you cannot deny her influence and yet people don’t know who she is. That’s a problem for me because it continues to reflect the narrative of American music where the black artist is the innovator and then gets forgotten about. 

Tharpe was innovative in rock ‘n’ roll in general, but particularly as a guitarist.

Well, that’s the thing. It’s her style of guitar playing, that’s it right there. That’s what makes her so special, is that she checks so many boxes that you wouldn’t expect. 

Yet she doesn’t get mentioned with Chuck Berry, Fats Domino, Little Richard…

It should be in the same breath. It should be “Chuck Berry and Sister Rosetta Tharpe.” You know what I mean? She should be right up there, and the fact that she’s not is a problem. 

Was there any anxiety in making the album — considering it’s a debut album for your solo career — that you were presenting too many dimensions, too many aspects of a first impression?

Well, we definitely wanted to make sure that the final record had a cohesion to it. We didn’t want it to be too far-ranging, definitely. That took a while. And we did prune it; we left off five songs because we had quite a few recorded. It was important to make it shorter and more cohesive than longer and more complicated. We definitely felt that.... I think what we ended up with is just enough, just enough variety all within a certain aspect of Americana but not going too far. 

Along the same lines, was there ever a discussion about how to make some of these songs, particularly the lesser known and most dated ones, relevant or contemporary?

That’s one thing we never talked about. I think if you just attempt to not copy the original, the first material, you’ll be fine with the rest of it. We’re all modern people with modern equipment. You know what I mean? That’s what matters. That’s the way I’ve always approached it. I’m always surprised when people talk about how modern this stuff is because for me it’s the interpretation of the song that makes sense. That’s what happened. That’s what came out. There was no, “Let’s make sure this sounds up to date.” If you follow your muse and you’re all kind of listening to what your muse says, that should happen because we’re all modern people with modern influences. So, it’s just trying to get out of the way, really.

Having worked so intimately with the songs on Tomorrow is My Turn and also with the ones from The New Basement Tapes — even though there was no music to those when you first received them — what did you take from those experiences that may have informed or encouraged your own songwriting?

All the songs that I study kind of go into this songwriting pot that I have going on in my brain because I get into the words. Part of what I love about them is how they’re written and so that whatever attracted me to that is something that I naturally gravitate toward anyway. The master class that was The New Basement Tapes was incredibly helpful for me as a songwriter, as a budding songwriter. I feel like I’ve been given lots and lots of tools over the last couple years to really work on my songwriting craft. I’ve been able to work with other people. 

I’m definitely in a big learning phase and creating phase with songwriting.… I don’t want to just sit here and try to write fourteen songs for the next record. I’m not really interested in that. What I want to do is explore what songwriting means to me, what it is that is going to be my contribution to the music world at large other than interpretation. Because I know I’m always going to be an interpreter. That is something I do well and is something that is important not to lose sight of, but I also feel like I do have a voice to be heard. I want to make sure that there’s something really important being said. I’m not really interested in throwing songs out there for the sake of me writing songs.  

As an apprentice of songwriting, to be put in a room with Elvis Costello, in particular, must’ve been pretty cool and intimidating at the same time.

What was great about that experience was that I didn’t know any of those guys. I didn’t know Elvis’ work, to be honest. I knew a couple of things, maybe. I just know of him. I didn’t know Jim’s work. I didn’t know Taylor’s work. I knew a bit of Marcus’ work [with Mumford & Sons]. So, really, I just kind of approached those guys as guys, and Elvis was kind of the elder statesman and a teacher. I didn’t have that stuff in the way. I had plenty of other stuff to deal with, don’t get me wrong. [Laughs] But I didn’t have that fear — “Oh, my God, that guy wrote ‘X,’ ‘Y,’ ‘Z.’” — It’s like, “Oh, this guy knows a lot about songwriting. I’m about to hear him and listen to what he has to say.” And so that actually made it great for me because I just took who they were and just learned… I learned stuff from all those guys. 

You exhibit such a passion for music and music history, from how it informs your work and makes it so eclectic. Where does that comes from?

I’ve always been a curious person. I’m a reader. I’ve always been a reader. I’ve always liked history. Then I went to school for classical music. When you’re an opera singer, when you’re studying opera — and maybe not everybody does this; maybe it just goes back to my own personality — I studied. If I was doing an opera set in eighteenth-century France, I checked books out on eighteenth-century France and I studied it and I checked out why this character would act the way that she does. You want to learn about the composers, who’s writing the music. 

Then I got into Celtic music, and you’re approaching Scottish and Irish music as an outsider. I feel like it’s a responsibility to understand as much as you can ... so you’re not doing the song out of context. So I just got used to researching, I suppose. I like it and I like the power [that] I felt like it gave me over the song. Particularly when you’re doing Celtic music, people will come up to you because you’re a person of color and they can be very insensitive. They go, “Why are you singing this music?” It’s like, “I’m sorry, do you walk up to the random white guy playing blues on the corner and say, ‘Why are you singing this music?’” Hell no.... When you know more about the song than the person who’s coming up to you and asking you, it gives you power. You can go, “Yeah, let me tell you about this song. This is why I’m singing this song.” I think all of that is really important. 

You need to find that common ground between yourself and the song and its history and context.

When you’re singing a song, you should have that common ground. You have to have common ground with it. I’ve been asked by white artists or students — because I do teach in workshops — and they go, “How do I approach this work song or this spiritual? Can I sing this?” And I say, “Of course you can sing it. Should you sing it like an eighty-five-year-old woman from Alabama? No. You shouldn’t try to sing it like that. I can’t sing it like that because I’m not an eighty-five-year-old woman from Alabama. You have to find the core within the song that speaks to your core. Otherwise, why are you doing it? Obviously there’s something that’s making you want to do the song.... You know when you’re singing something that maybe you shouldn’t be singing.... Maybe it’s the wrong time. I know for me, “Last Kind Word Blues,” I just about got in there. I wouldn’t have wanted to sing that song even a year earlier, but I just feel like I have enough whatever it is to sing that song now at thirty-seven, thirty-six when I recorded it. You know. Everybody has this sort of thing inside them that’s going, “Put this away for another time.” And I’ve done that before. 

But doesn’t it take a while to trust that instinct?

Well, yeah, it’s something that you develop. You always develop it as an artist and as a person, really, as you get older. That’s not to say that you can’t make mistakes. I’ve made mistakes. “That wasn’t quite right.” It is a process, but the more you engage with it the quicker you can trust it. 

Read on...

DVD Review: 'Lost Songs: The Basement Tapes Continued'

The task at hand was enough to make even the most self-assured songwriter wither in excruciating insecurity: Set to music assorted lyrics and poetry by Bob Dylan from 1967 — a box of the music legend’s handwritten texts dating back to his infamous refuge with The Band in Saugerties, New York had at long last been unearthed — and record the songs for a new album.

Lost Songs: The Basement Tapes Continued tells the story. Directed by Sam Jones, the documentary (which premiered late last year on Showtime and is now available on DVD and Blu-ray from Eagle Rock Entertainment) chronicles and contextualizes the making of the 2014 LP, Lost on the River: The New Basement Tapes, for which producer T-Bone Burnett recruited a select group of artists — Taylor Goldsmith (Dawes), Marcus Mumford (Mumford & Sons), Jim James (My Morning Jacket), Rhiannon Giddens, and Elvis Costello — to rise to the challenge.

The backstory of The Basement Tapes is adeptly underscored throughout, not least of all with new and incisive commentary from Bob Dylan himself, whose reflections overshadow the documentary’s narrative much like his songwriting overshadows the efforts these musicians are shown to make in composing music to his words.

Indeed, what begins as a relatively informal songwriting workshop in due course evolves into an intense, often intimidating endeavor as everyone involved at some point finds their talents being tested beyond their comfort zones. The very idea of making an album that in any way shares some piece of history or perspective with one of rock ‘n’ roll’s most mythologized episodes had to have thrown them all for a mind-boggling loop on some level. Even Burnett, whose own storied career includes a stint as guitarist on Dylan’s 1975 Rolling Thunder Revue, acknowledges the surrealism at play. 

“The chance to collaborate with a 27-year-old Bob Dylan, now, with 50 years of hindsight,” he says with a modest, nervous grin, “was... interesting.” 

Whether the songs these artists brought to life compare to the insouciant, never-intended-for-release performances on The Basement Tapes is beside the point, really. The album has more than enough highlights — particularly from Giddens (“Lost on the River #20”) and James (“Down on the Bottom”) — to stand on its own.

That, in the end, is what this film illustrates and affirms the most.

Read on...