Cover That Junk Up (aka Girl Covers)

Cover songs are the plague of the music industry. They are at the same time the greatest compliment an artist can receive, but also a free ride for someone to use a tracks previous success for their own marketing. The song presumably has already been tried and tested in the public domain, they are the easiest tool for instant public approval. YouTube is the breading grown for cover shittiness, every kid in the world can upload their crappy version of Adelle’s ‘Rolling in the Deep’. That’s not to say there is no place in the world for cover songs, but you have to be able to put forth some originality on it.

Now there are a couple cardinal sins (to me) relating to cover songs. One, bands use this tool to seem somehow more interesting by covering a song that is well outside their breadth. Example: “I can’t believe Belle and Sebastian did a cover of Slayer.” Now to the naked eye, the bad bastard folk music that Belle and Sebastian create on a consistent basis is uplifted, into the world of ‘interesting’ if only for a second. This is a fallacy, Belle and Sebastian do make sad bastard, boring music, and even if such a cover existed it wouldn’t change this fact. If Hell existed it would be playing “The Boy and the Arab Strap” for all eternity, and yes I bought that record for some goddamn reason (chalk it up to teenage wannabe-ness “Let’s drink chamomile tea and talk about knitting techniques”).

The second sin is covering a song you don’t even like, explicitly using the songs popularity to simultaneously poke fun at it, but also reaping the benefits of its popularity. See every pop-punk band who covered a Britney song. A cover used to be a tribute, a declaration that ‘this song/band fucking rocks’. Now at times it seems to be filler for a band that doesn’t have enough material to please a crowd, so they may as well play Wonderwall because everyone and their mom knows the lyrics.

All that being said, and yes I’m going to contradict myself, sometimes cover songs are just fun. Here are three cover songs that are currently rocking my speakers on a consistent basis.

1. 6 Foot 7 - Lil Wayne (covered by Karmin)

She absolutely kills it and with a smile on her face the whole time.

2. Pursuit of Happiness - Kid Cudi (covered by Lissie)

Great song, great cover. People told me “slow my roll”, I’m screaming out “Fuck that”.

3. I’m Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance With You - The Black Kids (covered by Kate Nash)

Great version. Plain and simple.

Blinded by the Nights aka Dance in my Pants

Throughout a young music lovers life you go through phases, rites of passage. You need to immerse yourself in scenes so you can find yourself, musically. Oh and so you can either fit in with the current trend facing a pre-teen (that band Live, what the fuck was that about?) or so you can attempt to get close to the girls you not-so-secretly pine for (every girl with bright artificially colored hair, tattoos, piercings and an fuck you attitude).

I had my hip hop phase (young money!), my ska phase (Rudy can’t fail!) and my punk rock phase (Nazi punks fuck off!) . So what was left? Why the rave scene of the late 90’s of course.

Baggy pants, endless bass, late nights and of course the drugs. My Ship and Anchor wing lady Jill brought me to my first party, I had no idea what to expect, and no clue how to dance (still don’t). I remember trying to keep an open mind, but I was a punk rock kid, how would I act at some neon lovefest when I just wanted guitar driven aggressive music?

I remember writing my name and address down on a piece of paper before I got there, I knew I was going to try E and was worried I would have to flee the scene and wouldn’t be able to communicate to a cab driver. Which makes total sense right? Don’t research what you’re about to do, just hope for the best and have a scribbled down address as your backup plan. Boys are dumb.

Walking up the stairs, hearing the bass beat, feeling the stairs shake below me, had me thinking I was going to some European gangbang. I must have walked around for hours, checking out the scene, people watching, studying how people danced (cause there would be a test later). Some girl came up to me and told me I was beautiful. I blankly stared back at her “umm thanks” as I continued my travels around the hall thinking “weirdo”.

I won’t go into the details of the drugs (I’ll leave you to make a judgment on the negatives and positives of partaking in such things) but I will say I found myself on the dance floor at some point in the night. And yes, loving it. Although I had no idea what to do out there. At some point I heard the guy beside me call out to his friend “Ha is he doing the robot?” And of course I was, I knew like two dance moves, and the bunny hop seemed inappropriate somehow. Although if you throw that on at a wedding I am more than prepared to tear the roof of like Redman.

The song I leave you with is Mike Skinner’s classic “Blinded by the Lights”, which is the closest commentary on what going to a party is like. Confusing with a chance of awesome.

And as bonus, and to poke fun at ravers everywhere.

The Tao of the Wu-Tranny Clan

Hedwig and the Angry Inch – Angry Inch

First things fucking first. I fucking loathe musicals, I really do, I would do unmentionably horrific things to Andrew Lloyd Weber for the pain he has caused mankind. For countless hours I sat in the back of my mother’s Mercury Comet as a child unknowingly soaking up lines from ‘Cat’s’ and ‘The Phantom of the Opera’ . At the time it all seemed normal, but looking back it explains my ongoing constant desire to break into song in inappropriate/public places. It also explains that weird childhood memory of me singing “Tomorrow” from the musical ‘Annie’ to my babysitter’s cat in their backyard at the top of my lungs over and over on summer day. And I won’t even get into the issue of attempting to define my own sexuality while having ‘Les Miserables’ stuck in the back of my head as a pre-teen, “should I ask her out now or wait for my single spotlight cue?”

That all being said (musicals suck, my mother messed me up, cat serenades) Hedwig and the Angry Inch is different, well to me at least. The story of a gay boy from Communist Germany who goes through a botched up sex change to marry a American solider, only to be abandoned in USA with a ‘Barbie doll crotch’ on his/her way to becoming a punk rock icon of sorts. As ridiculous as that all sounds, it’s even more ridiculous how much I adore this shit. Punk rock, trans-gender bj jokes, Plato connotations, how can you go wrong?

Justin Bieber Feat. Kanye West and Raekwon – Runaway Love

If one ever needed proof that the musical landscape has truly become a melting pot of genres one need look no further than Bieber’s Kanye produced track ‘Runaway’. I find the very fact that this track exists interesting beyond comprehension.

This is Justin Bieber, the 17 year old bubblegum-pop teen record selling machine with Kanye West, who arguably created the album of the year in 2010 (and one of the best hip-hop albums in 10 years), and Raekwon from the legendary Wu-Tang Clan. I repeat, Wu-Tang and Bieber. And this isn’t some track some kid cut and pasted together, this was an open collaboration, they were in the studio together.

Never before in pop music history has two artists at the top of their game, dripping with success and credibility, joined forces with someone the likes of Bieber. I propose that this is a paradigm shift in popular music, maybe the pinacle. Over the last few years we have seen genres mixed and matched (see the current trend of hip hop using house/techo produced beats), artist collaboration is at an all-time high, and already successful pop acts taking genre risks they never would have before.

It begs the question though. What’s the difference between JB and Usher? The fan-base? The age? Aside from the obvious race difference I see no real difference. And what about Justin Timberlake? Who has somehow gained as much credibility as anyone in music (name me one hip-hop artist who wouldn’t work with him). Things done changed (yo), in pop music and in hip-hop. And maybe this is all for the best, maybe it is time genre’s are left behind, maybe this is where we drop the labels. Perhaps DJ’s, mash-up artists and the need to reach new audiences have altered the landscape forever.

So next time you go to make your Justin Bieber joke, remember to protect yo neck, cause Wu-Tang Clan ain’t nothing to fuck wit. Ya ya, i got nothing else okay.

Dry Your Nookie Mate

The Streets – Dry Your Eyes Mate

Alright, it’s no secret that on any given night I’d snuggle up to Mike Skinner in our cozy double bed from behind and whisper sweet nothings into his ear about how perfect he is as an artist. About how his deadpan accent drenched delivery backed by UK drum and bass/house/hip hop beats makes my ‘Bobby Segar’ (get it? get it?) on a consistent basis. I’d explain how his quirky and intelligent word-play made household North American ‘Rap-Pop-Stars’ seem like some inside joke that I didn’t get, like Snuggies or Smart Cars.

How the shit does this work Mr. Skinner? You just talk, semi on beat, or awkwardly semi sing a chorus about cell phone issues, taking too many pills, the legalization of weed, not “mugging yourself” and misunderstood Facebook updates. But it does work. Like some sort of calm White Squall, a perfect paradox of pop music and UK flavor. Of hip hop and rave culture. It’s like Jesus made a mash-up.

Which brings me to Skinners 2004 “Dry Your Eyes Mate”, maybe the most honest and perfect heartbreak song written in the last 10 years from a man’s perspective.

The acoustic guitar is dead my friends; it’s been beaten to death by endless shitty acoustic covers and the perception that putting words over some generic acoustic strumming makes the song more “meaningful”. Please, nursery rhymes sound “meaningful” when sung over Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Landslide’. That being said, an acoustic guitar, a simple slow drum beat, and a Chris Martin chorus (yes that fucking Chris Martin (and no Martin’s sins do not devalue this song)) somehow both makes tender love to my eardrums and forces me to ponder those times when I was on the wrong side of an infatuation.

The thing that should make The Streets fail is the exact thing that makes them succeed. The awkwardly delivered lyrics. Without being overly concerned about rhyme and measure Skinner can delivery in a way that no other artist can, he can just explain it to you, clearly and cleverly.

As Skinner himself stated “You say that everything sounds the same, then you go buy them, there’s no excuse my friends, let’s push things forward”. BTW WTF is an ‘artful dodger’?

Denise Williams - Let’s Hear It Tor The Boy

Ugh, I can’t believe I’m writing this down. But I fucking love this jam. I do. I hate myself for it, but I do. It reminds me of roller-skating, crimped hair and the beat is about as head-bobby as you can get. It’s a perfect white guy dancing track, possibly only trumped by Bruce Springsteen’s “Dancing in the Dark”. But there was always something more to it, something underlying that I was attached to, that I just couldn’t figure out. But then, one day, it clicked. This song is about getting nookie.

The entire song this chick complains about how her man doesn’t talk sweet, doesn’t dress nice (but she doesn’t mind), he has no money and he’s a terrible singer. But when he pulls her close, watch the F out, cause he’s her loving one man show (whoa whoa whoa whooooooooa). Denise Williams basically wrote NIN’s ‘Closer’ in 1984.

Kudos Miss Williams, kudos. (Sidenote: this video is WICKED offside if my theory is correct, which of course it is)