For the past few years, I and a group of friends have been using Spotify to turn each other on to new music. Each month we upload two songs each to create a playlist; we chat about the songs on WhatsApp, and at the end of each month we try to get together to review our picks.
On those occasions where I haven't been able to make our video chats, I've written short reviews of each song. Here is what I thought of April 2022's picks!
April 2022
I don’t think we can begin with anything other than a look at the covers on April’s playlist, given that there were five - count ‘em, five - of those bad boys to enjoy. I recently read an early history of pop music and it was interesting to learn that until the mid- to late-forties, individual songs took precedence over performers. Often, the same tune - especially one that could be performed by big bands or swing combos - would be recorded and released by as many as ten or fifteen of the heavy hitters at a go. Even in the 1950s rock ‘n’ roll era, it wasn’t uncommon to see two or three artists vying simultaneously in the charts with the same song.
However, we now have a much greater notion of artistic agency and interpretation, which puts a premium on the ‘definitive’ version of a tune; Prince may have been the originator, but few would argue that Sinead O’Connor’s ‘Nothing Compares 2 U’ is the version worth shouting about. Likewise, feel for the poor old Nerves, who wrote a cracking pop-punk track called ‘Hangin’ on the Telephone’, only for Blondie to coast past the finish line with it. Without doubt, the respective songs were utterly transformed by those artists who tasted success with them, which was a point of discussion when a few of us met to pick over the bones of April’s offerings. Generally, we thought a straight cover to be lesser than a reinterpretation, especially where a new angle draws on a differing reservoir of emotion than the original.
To date, Marc Almond has had two number one hits in the UK, both with covers - a radical take on Gloria Jones’ ‘Tainted Love’ and a pedestrian version of ‘Something’s Gotten Hold of My Heart’, which cleaved so close to the original that he even duetted with Gene Pitney on the latter. One of those covers is transformative; the other has hardly made a dent in the collective musical consciousness.
We have two rather breathy takes on non-breathy songs here, and for my money Phoebe Bridgers wins out with her Cure cover. Why? Because it brings a note of tenderness and yearning to ‘Friday I’m in Love’, whilst Kina Grannis and Clara C struggle to rise above the sophomoric sentiments of ‘Bad Blood’ and, if anything, highlight its deficiencies through deconstruction.
Good without being great are Zurito with an old Buena Vista Social Club joint called ‘Amor de Loca Juventud’ (the mad love of youth?) which is pretty and skips along with sun-dappled lightness without landing a punch. I felt the singer was so close-miked that it sounded like he was right on your shoulder, like a parrot. On the other hand, the Valkyrians (from Finland! Not Mexico!) did do something new with Blondie’s ‘Heart of Glass’ but turned a hard, shiny disco number into an amiable ska plod, which rather took the juice out of it. Fun nonetheless.
So we’re left with one cover that really stands out; the late Charles Bradley shaping Black Sabbath’s rather somnolent ‘Changes’ into a churchified soul stirrer. Yowzer! I know a performance is a performance, but he sings it like he really means it. In fact, soul bangers did very well for me as the standout track of the lot was ‘Going In Circles’ by the Friends of Distinction. I knew it, ironically, as a cover - but whilst Isaac Hayes applies all the bells and whistles from the start, the FoD climb the mountain. The low-key, lugubrious beginning pulls at heartstrings every time, whilst Hayes wraps everything in gauze from the off - well, it’s too rich, like pouring clotted cream over a wedding cake.
I didn’t like Alt-J’s offering at all, though I’ve been prevailed upon by some of you to give their first album a go (thanks for the link); why the guy decided to sing this delicate number in the voice of a cartoon rodent is beyond me. That’s my only frowny face of the originals - I found something to dig in everything else, including Full of Hell’s frantic sub-two minutes of sheer aggression. I thought the alarm clock at the end was a nice touch - just in case it hadn’t woken you up, right?
The late Taylor Hawkins (& the Coattail Riders) were interesting and kicky without ever tempting me back to listen. I compared it to Satellite Party, another act who did a fine job meshing disparate genres within the same track. Parquet Courts were likewise cool without feeling essential; marrying the vocal hook to a drum pattern was a neat trick but I also got the impression of a singer who can’t quite ever close his mouth.
Which leaves, I believe, just the two other songs. I am familiar with what might be considered the classic era of Love but not their latter offerings. I knew that Arthur Lee began to go off the rails somewhat, so it’s heartening to hear that he was still able to pull the rabbit out the hat when it mattered. ‘Everybody’s Gotta Live’ is the perfect encapsulation of the 1970s bummer ethos; whereas in their earlier guise Love were conjuring up baroque psychedelic mind-quests, here it’s a single burnt-out acoustic guitar strumming three chords. It’s an overused phrase, but the song works purely on the vibe. At the other end of the spectrum, consummate songwriting professional John Hiatt cruises through like a high-end Audi, every moving part gleaming and in its proper place. There are zero musical surprises, but each touch is assured, the lyrics are wry and knowing, plus Hiatt knows exactly how to deploy a voice gnarled through experience and wisdom. Bob Dylan, take note!
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