Rain Delay

I probably should have had this ready to go on Halloween night.


Can you blame me though? I was all about celebrating my favorite holiday. I had to watch scary movies and fill up on candy corn and chocolate. The only other thing I was looking forward to as much was the latest release from my favorite Twin Cities rapper Homeless. Recorded live at the 7th Street Entry earlier in the year, this free (FREE I SAY!) LP features the rapper cutting up verses and hooks over sick samples and trading lines with another good friend of mine, the multi-talented Just Riley. Having been all over the duo's mixtape (Patience Makes Lighter/Kids Eat Free) after seeing countless shows of theirs and even roping them into performing at my own wedding, I was beyond excited to hear that after relocating to California, Homeless was still putting out this fantastic and tightly paced show for free online. My expectations were exceeded in every way.

Where as seemingly every other live show I've heard on record has suffered from bad mixes or a lack of passion, Homeless did the deft mix here of coupling a fantastic mix with a relentless lyrical fire. The MC is just as vibrant and alive on this LP as he is at any show. Best of all, thanks to a well-orchestrated production the vocals are crystal clear over the beat, sounding almost like an incredibly dynamic radio performance more than a bootleg recording. Jumping right into the madness after an intro from another local upstart, Toussaint Morrison, Homeless shows his growth and burgeoning swagger by spitting apocalypse fostering verses over a crazy beat by R Productions. 'Craze(y)' shows him running a manic foot race against a beat by Alchemist that was originally put to use by Mobb Deep. The minute long 'For The Record' ends with Homeless clarifying his stance on half and half in his coffee. 

Just Riley joins the fray for 'The Weather', making his presence known by screaming about "Humpty Dumpty tendencies". From here on out the pair, known together as Mnemosyne, volley tracks and lines back and forth. 'Familiar Strangers' is an ultra catchy live staple and inspires little shimmies as the two spit miles of lyrics together. 'Somniphobia' will break your heart as Just Riley incites the crowd to sing along with his fear of sleeping alone. On 'Kids Eat Free', the title track from his mixtape, Just Riley takes lead vocals to examine our mental starvation as he wraps his linguistics in circles around his own ideas. Rapping over a beat provided by Cecil Otter of Doomtree, Homeless and Riley paint a grim picture of life inside asylum walls on 'Welcome to Bedlam'. Homeless makes a case for making the most of your life on 'In The Air' from his release Patience Makes Lighter before closing the show with the pop insanity of 'Magic Man', as crafted by Weezer frontman Rivers Cuomo.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss Homeless, here in the Twin Cities. Truth be told, I hardly go to shows now that these two have headed west to CA. Sure, Doomtree have a stint of Blowout shows coming up, but they're shoe-ins - some of the joy in watching Homeless making a release like Right As Rain happen is seeing an artist cut his teeth and hone his craft. The man has genuine talent that grows every day. I just wish he didn't have to head out to bigger and better things to spread the good word. You look him up - I'll make him do a hometown show as soon as possible.

Fakeout

I suppose this could have been written a decade ago.

Previous posts have explored the idea of the futility of discovering music in a society that lacked omnipresent web access and hyperactive culture. Trying to catch the name of a band or song on the radio or MTV was hard enough. Deciding to waste the money on an album (or even a CD single) was even more frustrating. As I've previously written about my internet endeavors, I spent a fair amount of time in college searching for long-forgotten songs and things tucked in the farthest corners of my mind. One such song, 'Pure Morning' by Placebo, was a fantastic find. It could just as easily be a modern release, to boot.

'Pure Morning' was released in 1998. Originally a B-side from a more popular single, Placebo found themselves too enamored with the song to relegate it to the reject pile. It was not only included on the album but became one of the band's most popular singles to date, along with their earlier effort, 'Nancy Boy'. They've enjoyed enduring success in their native UK and abroad, but this track was the start of their slow descent from the top - the band peaked in the late 90s, essentially. This is not a bad thing - they're still doing just fine and selling millions of albums. It just takes a little longer with our fractured media landscape. Regardless, they endure and continue to have successful tours and releases. 

So why the big fuss? I guess I just dig the song. I feel like it could have been just as popular today as it was when it was released. Were one to slip the song into a playlist on, say, AltNation on satellite radio the audience would most likely not skip a beat. Maybe that's what makes the strange track so appealing in the long run. It's a great song but perhaps it was ahead of its time. Brian Molko's voice is peculiar but memorable, both indicative of the indulgent 90s music scene and our modern quirky-for-quirk's sake hipster ideals. The bass and guitar are spacey and fuzzed out in an obtuse but catchy sound that would fit either decade. The drums bang and wallop in this wide open loop that feels like it both belongs in the era of The Verve's 'Bittersweet Symphony' and would fit on any spotlight collection in the iTunes store. The only thing out of place about the song is the video, solely for the long, slow shots of police men interrupting a suicide attempt by Molko as he steps off a ledge. It's to calm and measured for our ADD minds. Bleak and strange, absolutely. Just too calm to fit in now.

Take a listen and see if I'm nuts. Even if you disagree with my assertion that 'Pure Morning' still feels modern you'll rediscover a great, overlooked song from the end of the last decade. It was a hard time to find music in the Midwestern town I called home - forgive me for indulging my nostalgiac embrace. 

Warm Feelings

Sometimes these posts are just as much about taking something back from the ether as they are about spreading love.

Allow me to clarify. 

So many of these posts are about things that have been swept under the rug by our collective hyperactivity and perpetual distraction. The world is so full of amazing things that it's easy to forget that we should appreciate what's there rather than denouncing emergent media or hailing the next big thing as 'BEST EVAR'. I get it. Hyperbole is what runs the internet. If it's not an opinion that polarizes, it's lost in the din. Life doesn't work that way, however. Sometimes we're lukewarm to things, or just not moved to passionate reaction. A nuanced life in this world we've created is a rare thing. I like to think, though, that minds change. People grow and reflect. I can embrace that which used to put me off. 

For example - when I was younger I hated fall with a passion that matched any miscreant on Xbox Live. I hated the days growing shorter, the cold, the inevitable winter that followed. I also hated the things I associated with it, retroactively. Albums I had listened to the previous fall were tainted. Things I had said or done were looked upon with regret or disdain, simply because of the intangible feeling associated with this time of year. At some point the tide in my head shifted. Maybe it was getting older and mellowing out just a bit. Maybe I started to understand to a greater extent my insignificant place in the universe. Maybe it was realizing someone loved me and wanted to spend the rest of their life with me as much as I did with them. That takes away a lot of your distemper, I've found. So when fall approaches now, I find myself picking through the mental detritus of my life, overturning stone and marveling at the things underneath, like ephemeral silverfish. I enjoy poking through my own neglected memories, things I hadn't thought about in years.

There was an album by Bush that I so strongly associated with this time of year (and admittedly, my own poor mental state at the time) that I simply refused to listen to it. There was something about it that was like biting on tinfoil when I heard the opening track. So strongly did I associate The Science of Things with these darkening days that I convinced myself that it was the music that was bad and not my listening experience or frame of reference. Through self indulgent curiosity I've found I had fooled myself. While it's not the greatest record EVAR (per common online parlance) there are some interesting and worthwhile moments to come back to. 

In particular, the opening track (and second single) 'Warm Machine' is beautiful in its crashing waves of sound. The discordant riff that dominates the song pulls so strongly at my heart and causes such a physical reaction in my chest that I can see now why I put it away for so long. There is such a melancholic, saudade-summoning essence to the ambiance that I must not have been able to handle the tones as a younger person. My own depression and unhappiness at the time tied in too closely with the feelings stirred up by the change in season and hearing this song as the sun set on an overcast, Midwestern skyline. Hearing it now makes me remember with vivid clarity just where I was and who I was with every time I heard it. The intensity of my rejection of the song is somehow proportional to my emergent appreciation for it a decade later. 

Funny how that works. Sometimes you're not in the right place or time or frame of mind to get something. A lot of art blew right past me as a young man, much as some things do now. I'm sure when another decade has passed I'll kick myself for not enjoying something simple and obvious like tomato soup. But you know what? My better half has already started me down the soup loving path. That's how life works. You learn to love the world, one piece at a time.

Dive In

So the weekend has once again come and gone.


I spent the majority of my time this weekend getting things done and crossing things off my mental check list. Some of it, like packing boxes and loading them in my truck, were very literal tasks that were relieving to have accomplished. Others, like seeing my family and adorable nephew, were more ephemeral and personally rewarding. No matter how it's counted, I feel great having come out the far side of the weekend with nothing written and tons accomplished. A novel (that was started just before NanoWrimo last year) is still spinning its wheels. A couple of short stories I'm cultivating are in the fermentation process at the moment - I have the bones, I'm just growing the connective tissue. In the meantime, I'm moving and looking forward to the adventure and change of scenery. As I pack up my current life with my better half I like to reminisce and reflect, marveling at elapsed time and forgotten events. When I do that I like to listen to music that adds to the contemplative mood. So I turn to Tycho.

Tycho is an electronic musician from the San Fran area in CA. Biologically known as Scott Hansen, Tycho is an artist whose music brings out the best in my mind, a sort of remembrance that stems from stirring up old dirt and letting it breath the air. It's the kind of music you put on to stimulate the mind but then forget you turned on. An hour into an album you realize you've been subconsciously jamming while going about your business, never pausing to reflect on why you feel so good about what you're doing. 

I wrote in yesterday's post about a song I only tend to listen to in the fall - Dive by Tycho is an album I hope to return to many times throughout my life, especially on these cold, fading days of fall. There's something so magical and intangible that he's captured in the music he creates. It's like nothing else I've heard. It has these elements of pulsing electronic beats coupled with melodic bells and chimes that make your heart ache. He causes tension in your chest from drawing out long phrases and resolving them with clever structural choice and serene production. In short, it's an album that stirs something all too rarely touched in your heart, only to leave you wanting to hear more. 

The days are getting shorter and we're always trying to pack more into them. I know that I can put on an album like Dive when I'm puttering around my condo, checking things off my list. Even if I don't get everything accomplished that I had hoped to, at least I can stretch that piece of my mind that needs the air when I put on Tycho's latest album. It's beautiful stuff - do yourself a favor and lighten your load. Listen in and loosen up.

Fall Apart

No bones about it.


Fall is here and making way for that dreaded sequential terror. The W word. It's lurking just around the bend. The days are shorter. The nights are longer. More often than not the sky is overcast and we have to pull up our collars around our collective scarves to keep the ever-growing chill out of our coats. Not all hope is lost, though. There are the small, subtle things to aid us in our journey, to give us lift in our daily endeavors. For me, one small thing is the old hit by INXS, 'Never Tear Us Apart'.

Unlike other posts I won't cite here, with this 80s hit I can cite specific reasons for personal relevance. I always associate this song with Fall. The melancholic air of the lyrics and sounds. Michael Hutchence's wailing and the pulling-at-the-heart string arrangement. They convey a cold and somber time, which is only furthered by the classic video from the late 80s, which I also saw repeated viewings of during the Fall season. In it, the band struts around in pained, pretentious manner in heavy coats as they sort of perform the song. No elaborate set up, despite the decadent decade - no, in an interesting twist on convention, INXS just wandered around Prague in the cold season, performing the song in a somber setting. I love it.

The song itself is great, a real hidden gem of a pop tune from an otherwise genre busting, funky New Wave band. I love that they made this weird, morose song that stands out among their canon. It's this stealth reminder of finding beauty in the heartache of the seasons passing and fading. Every year I find myself listening to this song more in Fall than in any other time. It's surprisingly lush and gorgeous despite its cold, isolated sense of heartbreak and romance. Hutchence sells it well with his plain yet theatrical voice. The dramatic pauses are wonderful as they unleash in the understated guitar licks and pounding drums. I have to confess this might be the only time that I will go on record as staunchly in favor of the saxophone contribution. There is no way this song would be the same at all with any other instrument playing that solo.

Give in to the season. Feel it surround you, the crisp air and the leaves beneath your feet. It gets cool, yeah, but it's not a bad thing. Just try it on and see if it fits. Putting INXS on your headphones as you tromp through the fading light of Fall is the perfect addition to the season. Let it wash over you and see if I'm right. No bones about it, we're in the thick of it. Might as well make the most of it while we can. 

Deeper and Deeper

Evening, cats.


It's Friday and I've spent the day moving heavy boxes. My back and arms ache. I've had more than my share of a bottle of red (Red Truck - not a cab or merlot or zin, just red) like an adult jukebox. I can't push myself to work on a longer, more involved piece I've been putting off, as of late. Instead, I thought I'd share with you the joy that is Adele remixed as part of a Childish Gambino track.


I knew of Adele prior to this, of course. 'Chasing Pavements' had been all over the scene and the soulful young lady had made a name for herself with her old-school voice and intense inflection. I'd been crazy impressed with Childish Gambino from his album Culdesac, his phenomenal mix tapes and his work in comedy. So when he took her ascendant single 'Rolling In The Deep' and cut it up, I was a little confused. I forgot about her career and focused on his...with good reason, I'd argue.

Adele is a voice whose reputation goes far and wide among the popular culture these days. She has such clout from her talent that I felt genuinely sad when I heard that she had to cancel her recent tour and undergo major surgery on her vocal cords/throat. She's the opposite of a flash-in-the-pan - she's an artist who you really get an intense interaction from. Similar reactions stem from Childish Gambino - he's a musician who can't be confined to one simple thing. He's  not just a rapper, or DJ, or singer or comedian, or actor. The guy is insanely talented at whatever he throws himself into. I'd already been blown away by his musical endeavors. So these two forces colliding made something even more amazing.

As great as Adele's version of 'Deep' is, the Childish Gambino remix is more vibrant, more vital. It's a song that brings out different feelings and emotions from it's different dynamics than the original, as if that's not as obvious enough of a statement. Instead of a churning acoustic and plodding backing band we have Gambino setting Adele's unmistakable voice against sparse yet infectious hand claps, getting your mind into the rhythm right off the bat. He wraps her voice around a series of breaks and percussive tones that evoke DIY aesthetics like banging on pipes and sampling overheard sounds. He warps he voice using pitch-shifters and snippets of samples, rearranging the song into a more distilled, aggressive version of itself. When a break appears midway through, Gambino drops in for a verse to offer a response filled with vitriol and defiance. His rapping is a genius example of breaking convention and offering a novel back-and-forth for a kiss-off pop song. It's fantastic stuff.

Don't get me wrong - Adele made an amazing song with 'Rolling In The Deep'. I just find the Childish Gambino version, which I actually heard before the original version, to be a more defining take on the tune. Hers is canon, his is gospel. Hers is the standard, his is the ripper. He tells a story and builds on the world she created. Listen to them both and let me know what you think. 

No Worries

Hey, gang.


What's good? You feeling good? Hope so. It's weird for me to be able to write about whatever I want and not have a structured sense of goals or obligations to strive for. No grand theme or design, no overarching concept to fit in to. How about instead of a massive existential crisis I just spill the beans on a great single that you might have missed? Sound good? Gravy, let's do it.


Peter Bjorn & John, abbreviated as PB&J, are an indie rock outfit from Sweden who have been cranking out tunes for the last decade. Of all their weird and wonderful music, my favorite track of theirs is the funky little ditty 'Nothing To Worry About'. Featuring kids chanting the titular chorus, a stomping beat and some catchy tones, it's a song that gets under your skin and stays there, whether you're aware of it or not. It originally came out in 2009, as a single from their album Living Thing. I picked up a little while later, but kept hearing it even after it made its way out of my regular rotation. It's just one of those tracks you can't shake due to its infectious nature. It has these synth chords buried in its beat.

There's something so delightfully strange and gorgeous about this song I can't quite put my finger on - maybe it stems from the relentless beat of the drums in the background. Maybe it's that barely-out-of-tune chord that keeps humming. Maybe it's just the hook, the kids singing "Doing this thing, this type of thing, put a lil' money in this type of thing' that gets me. Something about it is just infectious enough that after months away from it, I hear a snippet of it in a promo for Sunny or have it come on during a shuffled playlist and I think "Oh man, I have to bump this." I don't know. It's just fun and weird.

The video accompanying the song is just as delightfully strange. Showcasing the Japanese rockabilly subculture, the clip has nothing to do with the song, yet the vibe somehow fits the sound. These guys throwing themselves with such gusto into a completely arbitrary fashion and culture scene, I guess I can relate. Isn't that all fashion and culture on a certain level? It just takes something as mismatched as this to bring it to light, I suppose.

Me, I love this song. I'd highly suggest you throw down the necessary dollar and pick it up. It's just fun enough, off kilter enough, to get you through to the weekend. Sometimes you need an out-of-left-field mood lifter. I think this bit of Swedish indie rock could help you out. Have a listen, see what's up.

Mega Buster

If there's an upside to my cover coverage coming to an end, it's that I get to share more random, amazing things with you.

Take, for example, Dr. Wylie's recent amazing (and free!) EP, titled Wiggle. Packed full of robotic jams and off kilter beats, the EP shows what the DJ and producer hailing from Minneapolis is capable of when coming into his own. The collected tunes on file are a series of beats and songs that create a cohesive vibe, an artist who is really expressing a strong sense of identity with his sound. After getting familiarized with his sound through local artist Toussaint Morrison and his evermore impressive releases, I was pleasantly surprised to see that Dr. Wylie is compellingly capable of holding his own when stepping into the musical spotlight.

Wiggle is an EP whose roots are firmly planted in the world of electronics and videogames. The moniker alone should be enough of an indicator about his sensibilities. Dr. Wylie is the name of the antagonist roboticist extraordinaire in the seminal Mega Man series for the last 20-odd years. Both as an homage and namesake, our Wylie does the mad scientist proud with his electronic, robo-tinged sounds and samples. The opening tracks, 'GFGDGT' and 'Robot Love', show the artificial elements blending with natural melodies, creating a fresh hybrid sound. 'Favrit Flayvah' has enough twisted organic elements to allow the electronic samples to get loose and jazzy, aided by a just-barely-in-step piano and drum beat. 'Fear Is...' demonstrates the vibrancy and danger Wylie can harness in his equipment, full of low-slung buzzes and throbbing synths. 'Doris & The Machine' is full of snapping, head-whipping blasts of funk and fury. It sounds like breaking machines and malfunctioning droids. I love putting it on and watching the world around me lock into a rhythmic pocket. Built around a sample from Dr. Mario, 'Chill' is a fun, nostalgic banger that throws your ears out of whack. I love Wylie's rendition of folk staple 'Little Boxes' - here's hoping he gets his shot at opening an episode of Weeds.   

I love this EP - it feels, at its best moments, like party music from the not-too-distant future, or maybe a cocktail party hosted by Dr. Light. It's like our own, Minneapolis-bred version of Gorillaz, and I mean that in the most complimentary sense. Dr. Wylie creates these dense little audio worlds by himself, and in doing so establishes an undeniably unique presence in the scene. Keep an eye on him - he's only going to get crazier and build bigger, more dangerous sounds. 

Old Wounds

By all logic, this should not have worked.


I read about this cover before I ever heard about it. Just reading the words in the order they were presented forced my mind to wrap itself around a pairing so incongruous and unlikely that I had no idea how it would sound. Turned out I was making a mountain out of a mole hill - it sounded fantastic and natural. While yesterday's cover coverage was about improving on a flawed song, today's subject is about simply making the song yours. In this case, Trent Reznor ceded his old, wounded ballad 'Hurt' to the dying Johnny Cash, after the Man In Black made his mark on the harrowing song.

I still struggle to listen to Cash singing this song without being reduced to tears. His inflection, his weariness and resignation in the face of the world are so heartbreaking and beautiful that I can hardly stand to hear it. The video for the song only makes it harder, seeing the legend past his prime, a fading specter of the once-vibrant force that gave the middle finger to the world in his younger days. At its most affecting and personal moments, it's a stark reminder that all good things must come to an end, that we all go eventually. At its most serene its a song that reminds us that we take our lives for granted, that people are seeing their own lives fade before their eyes every day while we complain about spotty Wifi or bad traffic. 

Hard to beleive I get this grandiose and self-indulgent emotional roller-coaster from a Nine Inch Nails song. I always enjoyed Reznor's iteration of the final track on The Downward Spiral, though more so from the quiet and contemplative nature of the song in light of the more combative and unsettling sounds surrounding it. As a conceptual coda I loved 'Hurt', although I understood it to be a step outside of his wheelhouse at the time. It was haunting and beautiful, if bleak and overly dramatic. 

When Cash covered the song for his album American IV, the last of his series of standards and covers before his passing, the world of pop music (and music in general) sat up and took notice. This was something rare, something worth paying attention to. What could have been 'a gimmick' (as Reznor worried) became something astounding. Cash transformed the song into something larger than the original artist could have hoped; he added layers and layers of life, the years and experiences of Cash painting the song in new light. What had previously been a denoumount to a dark concept album became an achingly gorgeous letter to a world that was slipping out of Cash's grip.

I can't even make it through the song now, as I write this. It's too much. It's nice to know such significant moments like this can happen in my life, but at times it seems like to much to deal with, as though moments of such personal and human relevance are so rare as to be jarring. Listen, please, if you can. It's every bit as wonderful as it's told to be, and more.

Life Lesson

Sometimes the cover is the superior version.


I racked my brain trying to figure out which cover I could use to illustrate this example. I sorted through the usual business, looked at acoustic versions and covers by the Smashing Pumpkins and 80s new wave acts and modern dance tracks on the radio (that are just terrible). Then it dawned on me. Well, to be honest, it came on my headphones on the bus ride home. A song so infectious and sublime that I can't help but kind of bob and sway along when it comes on, even in public. For a white dude in Minnesota (in November, nonetheless) that's saying something. 

'Lust for Life' as performed by Childish Gambino is awesome, plain and simple. It's got all the things I need to love a song these days. It has some fuzzy synth opening it up. It has the multi-talented Gambino singing an infectious and sun-shiny melody about simple pleasures, like wanting a pizza and a bottle of wine. A heavy, swinging beat kicks in to propel the song along, making my dance instinctively. Gambino throws down a verse filled with equal parts wit and swagger, then cuts the whole thing off after just two minutes and forty seconds. A pop song that hits all the right marks and knows when to pull the plug, basically. I adore it, for the parts and the whole. Too bad the original is nowhere near as good.

Pitchfork would have a bird for the defiance (or maybe I'd get higher marks for dumping on their own reviews) but I just don't enjoy the original version of 'Lust for Life' by California indie/hipster/awkwardBeachBoyripoff band Girls. It just embraces all the intentionally self-aware, pretentious quirks that a wider culture pigeon holes as...pretentious, self aware and flawed. It's hard to pin down the specifics of why I find their song so grating, but I think it has to do with the intentionally shoddy production. The vocals are so intentionally sloppy and insincere that it makes me feel like the boys behind Girls can't enjoy life without making it from a safe distance. The musicianship is flawed in its sub-par delivery, substituting aloofness for talent. 

If there's one thing I can't stand in life, it's mocking insincerity standing in the way of enjoying your existence. There is a distinct difference between these hipster pretensions and genuine humor or camp. Where Girls are self-aware to a hyper degree, Gambino approaches the track with a sincerity and polish that shows his talent and appreciation for his own craft. He takes what he does seriously and doesn't want to squander any opportunity. Girls don't seem to want people to like them. Yeah, I'm obviously projecting my own insecurities here, but I'm aware of it and stand by my assertions. Life's too short for insincerity. Put on the Childish Gambino version and have a blast. It's clearly more fun.

Baby Boy

My relentless coverage of covers continues.

I've written about American Idol winner David Cook before. In short, he's the only contestant for whom I've ever had any concern. He was a fresh and welcomed change from the established bleating young starlets and barely-pubescent baby faces singing tired and retread covers. Here, instead, was a young man who had already had a relatively successful career with his own band and then on his own before finding his way onto Season Seven of the former TV juggernaut. His rise to the winners circle was fun and strange, an artist out of place in a stagnant TV competition. His versions of songs justified watching the show, I told my better half. Nah, turns out I just liked him and his music. His versions of songs were crazy good for the circumstances.

Cook had done some impressive work with the material he was handed on the show. He gave passionate performances that showcased not only his talent as a performer and musician (this being the first time contestants were allowed to play instruments) but also his ingenuity as an interpreter. His rearrangements of songs were just as entertaining as when he performed. When he introduced his cover of Mariah Carey's seminal pop hit 'Always Be My Baby', my better half and I exchanged worried looks - how was that going to work, exactly? As soon as they showed a clip of him casually strumming the tune in front of Carey (a sadly forgotten talent that has been swept under the rug too early, it should be noted) we both 'ooh-ed' in understanding. The dude had done it - he took a famous, famously female song and re-contextualized it to make sense from a male perspective. It was awesome.

Cook's performance was a stunner and a clear indicator of his front runner status. The way he strutted around the stage belting out his newly arranged ballad, there was no question he was in the lead. What had been a light and fluffy pop song (a fantastic bubblegum piece of music) had been transformed into an amazing and powerful ballad, a declaration of love. Sounds sappy, I know. Still, when he was done we were both agog. It was a game changing performance from Cook. He wasn't just a pop musician on a TV showcase. He'd made it clear that he had a wealth of talent from which to work. When coupled with an intuitiveness and insightful sense of musical savvy, it was no wonder he shot to the top the way he did.

Sure, maybe it's a little unusual for a guy to be championing a winner from a past season of American Idol. You know what? I don't care. I have listened to this song recently, simply on its musical merits and catchy sound, let alone the fact that I was looking for a solid and overlooked cover to write about. Listen to Carey's original version, followed by the cover by Cook. The way they compliment each other shows how the two are derived so much from the artist perspective and intention and not just the gender. Cool stuff.

Natural Change

We should all be thankful for the internet.

There are countless ways it has changed our lives. The one I tend to write most about on this site, it should be noted, is that just about anything you could think of is available. Any movie, art, book, song, game, fetish or conspiracy theory not only has a home, but a thriving community behind it. For better or worse, our collective humanity is available for download, provided you know where to look. So how does this apply to my coverage of covers, beyond simply proselytizing the proliferation of digital distribution?

Michael Jackson's passing was a momentous event, not just for myself but for anyone who heard his music. Due to the sad spiral of his life, many of us only became reacquainted with his music and prolific career after his passing. I wrote about some of my own experiences here. When his memorial was broadcast on TV a short time later, millions tuned in to mourn or just observe the spectacle. While there were a multitude of notable events, one in particular stood out to me - an event that, within minutes of it happening, I was able to track down both as an mp3 and a YouTube video. 

John Mayer's instrumental cover of Jackson's 1983 single 'Human Nature' was no big reinvention of the pop staple. There was no crazy twist or novel concept. It was just a straight forward, earnest performance of a fantastic song. Jackson's song was surprisingly no-frills as it was, considering his elaborate and meticulous performances and arrangements. The beauty in Mayer's performance is his distillation of the song into a single instrument. Most of the cover is him, solo, on his electric guitar. His playing is subtle and nuanced, a display of restraint and artistry. The lack of insane, face-melting solos is at the heart of why the song is so great when distilled to its core. To cite the old adage, it's the notes he's not playing that make it great.

Jackson is someone whose art I've appreciated to a deeper extent as I've grown older, finding pop gold over and over throughout his extensive discography. Mayer is an artist I've surprised myself by really becoming a fan of as I've gotten older, after realizing his label stuck him in a convenient package right out of the gate. He was more than just the tween-to-college girl fish-in-a-barrel guitar slinger - he's an unrivaled guitarist and a unique voice in a sea of mediocrity. This cover reminds me to appreciate both of them for what they are and to look beyond my assumptions when evaluating a song. Listen to them both, they're stellar pop songs. They just happen to be flip sides to the same coin. Both can be found on your local internet.

Games Galore

Covers, man.


They're everywhere, for better or worse. You find them in the most unexpected places. When I was in college, my best friend (not the one I married, the dude one) turned me on to the Finnish metal band HIM. Being enamored with all things mischievous and vibrant at the time, I was hooked. The dynamic overtures of the heavy, romantic music fit right into the pocket my mind had waiting for it. Ville Valo and his band of tattooed dilettantes were making exactly the kind of over the top music I wanted to back the time I spent sulking at a bar in the local party house. It wasn't my most shining, social time, but at least the two of us had control over the tunes when a house party would break out on a frigid February night. We exposed a lot of our peers, en masse, to the glories of the overly dramatic love metal.

 Imagine my surprise, then, when something cut through the clamor and din of a typical collegiate bacchanalia. I was well into my desired beverage of choice for the evening when I cocked my ear to catch the tune over the noise of 20-somethings trying to hook up. I knew this song. Not from HIM, but from somewhere else. It was their perfectly suited version of Chris Isaak's 'Wicked Game'. I distinctly recall breaking into peals of laughter at the dawning insight into the soundtrack, assuredly looking quite insane to anyone observing from an objective standpoint. One minute - deeply engaged in a drinking contest. The next - howling to myself in the corner, asking Sam to turn up the music. I must have looked like I had suffered a stroke. Par for the course at the basement bar in college.

Chris Isaak had created a strange thing in his song 'Wicked Game'. It was on heavy rotation for awhile on VH1 when I was younger. I remember him rolling around on a beach with a model, all filmed in black and white. The song was a sultry, sexy number that was completely beyond my understanding of the world at the time. I remember thinking it must make sense when I grew older. Turns out it would. His crooning number, softly strummed and played with passion, was aiming for something beyond my audience. HIM would see to all that.

The Finnish metal band, hot on the word of mouth from prankster Bam Margera, was quickly making a name for themselves in America. Their album Razorblade Romance, released in 1999 (or 2000, depending on legalities) was a phenomenal example of intentionally overly-dramatic Gothic metal with romantic tinges. To a drinker and a writer with a soft spot for hard music, I was hooked. Their cover of 'Wicked Game' was a natural fit. They hit the same core structures of the song while adding their own little touches or personality to it, in a way making it their own. I honestly think of it in terms of HIM as much as I would Chris Isaak. They put weight and menace behind what was otherwise an ethereal and intangible song. Isaak was distant yet close, HIM were heavy yet aloof. 

These differing versions of Wicked Game show just how both artists versions of the song can hold equal validity in my eyes. They both have their own legitimate versions, each strong and independent of the other despite the linked essence in the center. Give a listen and see which one makes more sense to you.