As you may have noticed, this blog does what it says on the tin: it’s a blog about cover versions. Some covers are bad, others are fairly average and there are even some versions that are worth listening to. This is why the title of the blog is bracketed - simply because there may be merits with a cover that sounds bad or flaws with a version that seems okay.
Some covers will be competently produced and performed, despite being bland or sounding exactly like the original. There will be others, though, that may not have the required flair or polish, but do something different to stand out and have a little sparkle to them.
A good cover, therefore, not only has to sound good, but it also has to put a fresh slant on the song. In order to provide balance to proceedings, a wide variety of covers, with regards to quality and genre, will be analysed on a weekly basis.
The obvious and infamous covers that linger in your memory will be ignored, though; b-sides and album tracks will be favoured instead. This is in addition to performances on television programmes, the flops and minor hit singles, and tracks on compilation albums and soundtracks. Hopefully find the blog informative and discover something new. And, if you enjoy it, that's even better.
Following Twitter's acqusition of Posterous, all existing and future (Bad) Cover Version posts will be hosted on Obscure Music & Football. This is because there doesn't seem to be a long-term committment from Twitter/Posterous to continue hosting Posterous Spaces.
Rather than finding a new home for the blog on the likes of Blogger and Tumblr, it was quickly decided to put all of the content on an established site. Apologies if this site is on your RSS feed or blogroll, but I'm sure that you can understand why this decision was made.
You can now find all (Bad) Cover Version posts by clicking here.
Believe it or not, a romantic comedy about surfing provided one of the best cover versions of the 1990s.
This version of Primal Scream’s ‘Movin on up’ won’t win any extra marks for originality, but it does not stop it from being superb. No one can deny that it is a faithful rendition; its similarity to the original is blatant. However, it is perfectly suited to Edwin Starr’s strengths.
Primal Scream’s original, while excellent, was probably too production heavy for its gospel elements to stand out from the blues rock tone. Starr’s version, however, is more stripped. For a Northern Soul cover, the C-major riffs aren’t overly important; these chords are rightly shunted into the background.
What matters is the soul of the vocals and overall sound. It needs to be raw and passionate without sounding earnest and preachy. And it works very well: it has the sincerity that was lacking from the original and has some good but underused touches, such the brief usage of an organ.
No matter how good this cover is, though, it would be unfair to say whether it is better or worse than the original. This is because the full version is impossible to find - mainly because the 'Blue Juice' OST was never commercially released. And, unless you have access to the master tapes, you will never hear more than the first 150 seconds of the song.
It is a shame because it deserves a wider audience than being shunted to the end credits of a rarely remembered surfing flick. But, because of this, there is an aura of mystery surronding it; no one knows where it falters or thrives beyond that halfway point. Whether that makes it better or worse is debatable, but the magic of this version isn’t.
Imagine Phil Collins doing a cover version of a Bob Dylan track; specifically, ‘The Times They Are a-Changin’. Now imagine that very song appearing on an upbeat Phil Collins album which features “afro-beat rhythms”, “jazzy pianos” and “uncharacteristically subtle horn sections”. ‘Dance into the Light’ was such a bad album that the public voted it as the ninth worst ever long-player in the third edition of Colin Larkin’s ‘All-time Top 100 Albums’.
Although it’s only an album track, this cover version feels out of place on a LP – even one that’s as bad as ‘Dance into the Light’. It doesn’t even meet the standards required for an inclusion on a mediocre OST; despite the fact that you could expect it to feature during a sentimental scene in a film like ‘Marley & Me’ or ‘Made in America’. That’s the sort of level that this recording aspires to be at and, even then, it fails to make the grade.
Considering the overall sound of Collins’ LP, this recording does what it sets to do: being earnest to the nth degree. From the amateurish piano chords to the sugar coated guitar riffs, this makes you queasy to the bottom of your gut. And, if Collins’ whines aren’t bad enough, he does the unforgivable at the halfway point. He includes bagpipes. And not just normal bagpipes; it has synthesised bagpipes. Misjudged doesn’t even come into it.
The main problem with Collins’ version, though, is its lack of context. People associate ‘The Times They Are a-Changin’ as a protest song with political themes; they see the song's meaning as being prepared for change, no matter what. But this recording is on an album that celebrated Collins’ break-up with Genesis and his wife.
It seems self-centred and pompous for Collins to suggest that the meaning of this song could be comparable to Collins’ experiences. The singer not only shows a complete absence of self-awareness, but it's also one of the 1990s’ worst self-indulgences. Whatever this piece of narcissistic cack is meant to be, it’s excruciating and nothing more.
Here’s a question for you: what do Steps, Suede, Ultrasound, Spandau Ballet and Fuzzbox have in common? The answer is that they have all reformed in recent years. Some groups – such as Spandau Ballet– have recorded new and original material, while the likes of Suede have stuck rigidly their former days of glory
However, you could say that Fuzzbox may have been a tad astute when they marked their comeback in 2010 – albeit in the absence of original drummer Tina O'Neill - with a cover version of M’s ‘Pop Muzik’. They could’ve returned to the pop scene with no strings attached, and no commitment to write and record an album; just a cheap cash-in to jump on the bandwagon. The problem, though, was that Fuzzbox have never been any good at covering songs.
During the “We’ve Got a Fuzzbox and We’re Going to Use It” era, the group went through a phase of recording a series of ill-conceived covers. It kept to their DIY punk ethos and free-spirited nature but, unfortunately, Fuzzbox put very little thought and effort into them.
Their hopeless recording of ‘Spirit in the Sky’ (which was originally a b-side to ‘Love is the Slug’ and later resurfaced as a b-side to ‘Pink Sunshine’) had an interesting - if somewhat dirty-sounding - bassline, without any other redeeming features. Similarly, their cappella of ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ (which appeared as a b-side to ‘Self’ in 1989, after being recorded 1987) was out-of-tune and treated as a lazy joke.
Some people may class these versions as ironic or tongue-in-cheek, but cockiness and a lack of talent were far more prominent. And when then they took their covers seriously - as seen in 1989’s flop single ‘Walking on Thin Ice’ – it came across as cold and forgettable.
Therefore, given the omens, it shouldn’t surprise you that their version of ‘Pop Muzik’ is just as bad as their other covers. From the start, it’s hackneyed and laboured; at least their covers in the 1980s had some misplaced enthusiasm. The track has the inevitable attempts to modernise Fuzzbox’s sound with subtle electro-pop undertones, but there’s a distinct lack of freshness. However, what’s surprising – for a group that seemed to pride itself of its energy – is that their acceptance of their blandness. They’re clearly jaded, but the spirit and ideas have gone; it almost sounds like that they didn’t want to reform in the first place.
Fuzzbox peaked when they were a bubblegum girl band with guitars and no pretension, and this version of 'Pop Muzik' may have worked if it had retained the slick production values of tracks like ‘Pink Sunshine’. The brash arrogance has gone, but the lack of effort to hide their apathy is telling. This is not pop music, it’s nothing.
The great thing about cover versions is the notion of unpredictability: anyone is capable of covering any song at any time. In fact, the concept of some covers are so implausible, sometimes they just have to work. Su Pollard's cover of The Beatles' 'Back in the USSR' definitely ticks that box.
As you may expect, this version of the track is characteristically Su Pollard: it’s loud, garish and camper than a row of tents at Maplins. It has all of the makings of being irredeemably bad, but out of nowhere, the 'Hi-de-Hi' star manages to perform a pretty respectable version. Surprisingly, Pollard’s version is structurally similar to The Beatles’ version – the tempo is kept in time and the piano chords also remain.
While it stays faithful to the original and treats it with enough respect, it has its own style and voice. There’s a cabaret feel to the backing track, which makes it sound tackier than it should, and Pollard also lacks subtlety; ensuring that the performance is a little too raw. Although it lacks polish, the actress shows enough self-confidence to carry the song and she comes out with her dignity intact. It’s not great by any stretch of the imagination, but it achieves what it sets out to do: it’s buoyant and the song’s tongue is firmly in cheek.
Given that Pollard’s version of ‘Back in the USSR’ showed some occasional touches of genuine talent, it wasn’t a surprise when she was commissioned to record ‘Starting Together’ for the BBC’s fly-on-the-wall documentary ‘The Marriage’. It was also released as a single in 1986, peaking at Number 2 in the UK Network Chart, and a number of singles were released during the 1980s and 1990s.
What remains surprising, though, was that a record label never released her version of ‘Back in the USSR’ as a single; it didn’t even appear as a b-side or album track. This was despite the fact that her discography was, perhaps predictably, cover-heavy with recordings like ‘Band of Gold’ and ‘You’ve Lost that Lovin Feeling’. But these lifeless versions weren’t the same: it lacked the sense of fun that ‘Back in the USSR’ had.
In fact, the only time Pollard came close to matching those two minutes of controlled spontaneity was when she hopelessly covered ‘Walking on Sunshine’ on BBC One's ‘Songs of Praise’. She may struggle to hold a note, but it’s clear that the small screen gets the most out of Pollard’s affable nature and limited vocal capabilities. Don’t give a recording contract; let her appear on a televised celebrity karaoke contest, instead. She'd come out of it well, for sure.
