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.

Rock Over

No preamble here, kids.


It's cover week. I should have recognized the signs when I was writing yesterday, but I was too focused on getting to bed. I wasn't just seeking a lullaby, I was looking for the comfort of music you recognize, but packaged in a new and novel manner. That's what I love about some of the more inspired covers I hear - it's one thing to do a paint-by-numbers deal and just trace around the pre-established lines. It's something else entirely to reinvent a song, to take what has been created and re-interpret it in a way that twists and contorts it into something new. I think it can take just as much originality as writing the song in the first place.

Take, for example, 'Rock On' by David Essex. That is, in and of itself, a great glam song from the 70s. It's a weird, slinky little thing that weasels a bass line into a core component of the song. It was the definition of heavy. The off-kilter rhythm and the iconic melody are recognizable and grabbing, even today. You hear the song and know immediately that it's great if a bit distant. One of those songs that comes on the radio at random and you wonder why it hasn't sneaked into more of your playlists like it did into your subconscious. 

When I was in high school I caught the Smashing Pumpkins on their last major tour before the end of their first epoch. They were on the tour supporting Machina, which was divisive to say the least. They put on a memorable show at the Northrop Auditorium, I'm pretty sure, but the fact that they were playing a smaller venue than the stadiums they used to pack certainly conveys all you need to know about where their fans had gone. Anyway, during their set full of hits and new tracks came a song I couldn't quite place, but knew it sounded familiar. When James Iha's guitar began screaming the melody to the David Essex rocker, I had an 'aha!' moment. The Pumpkins had taken the song and turned it into an even heavier, angstier arena anthem. Basically they turned it into a Pumpkins song. Corgan's angry buzz of a voice, when added to the already phenomenal mix of Iha, bassist Melissa Auf der Mauer's excellent support and the astounding drums of Jimmy Chamberlain, was a knock out. Take a listen here.


This is a cover that always springs to mind when I think of what makes a good reinterpretation. If you hadn't known it wasn't theirs, you would just as easily assume it was a live standard they did that hadn't been put on record. I'm gonna dig up some of my other favorite covers in the coming week. Let me know if you've got a good example - I'd love to hear it.

Hey, Yeah...

Time for a lullaby, kids.


I'm spent. I had a busy, productive day at the office, followed by dinner out at my favorite restaurant (hi Fuji Ya!) and spent some time packing boxes. We're moving out of our first place together, into a bigger and better home. We're both excited, but are already feeling the pressure of condensing four years of life plus the recent wedding into boxes and a U-haul. It's fun, but draining. Exhilarating, but exhausting. Sleep is a blissful thing, but last night was only the restless kind that comes with unshakable concerns of the waking life. Sometimes you need a good lullaby to put you out. I love Obadiah Parker's cover of 'Hey Ya' by Outkast. Always does the trick.

For some, it might not be the most desired praise, to label a song as something to put you to sleep. In this case, I'd strongly disagree. The soothing, soulful singer-songwriter type, Parker (not his real name) made a name for himself online a few years back with this serene version of the frenetic dance track. He took what was already a phenomenal club song possessing an vintage flair for passion and dance-ability and flipped it inside out. Turns out the bones of Oukast's pop smash from the turn of the millennium is a great song from the core, not just studio finesse. Parker's version is just him and his guitar, softly strumming and singing the lyrics, which in this light become much more bittersweet and soul-baring. It's an amazing effect to see. 

On a night you feel stressed, worn out or simply can't sleep, songs like these are a blessing. It's sweet and soothing, a beautiful rendition of a song that works as a dichotomous work. I love the original for its uncontrollable energy. I love this version for the warm towel it wraps around my mind. I think sometimes I can actually feel my pulse and blood pressure drop when I listen to it. Tell you what - you go download this song. I have to turn in for the night. No way can I keep my eyes open any longer. Drifting off.

Mega Effect

Might as well get right back to it.


Fall days like this always stand out in my mind. Not unlike the bright and vibrant days of spring, there are certain qualities to the days of fall that are distinct and lasting. They stay with you in strange ways. When the days get shorter and colder, I'm always reminded of the fall I spent listening to Punk In Drublic by NOFX.


Not to date myself, let's just say it was more than a year after the album came out (1994) that I was introduced to it. Up until that point, my understanding of punk music was limited pretty much to Green Day and little else. I know. I was ultra hardcore. So I went to visit some family out West on the coast of Washington (a place I adore and would love to live someday) when my infinitely cooler and more more culturally aware cousin introduced me to a few things. One was the then-ascendant ska and reggae resurgence. The other was Punk In Drublic. It was not only completely fresh and alive in my radio-reared ears, it was coming recommended by the authority on cool. So I took his word seriously and picked up the seminal NOFX album (along with a few other recommendations I'll write about later) and listened to it nonstop for that entire fall. Over the years it's become a staple in my upbeat, sing along in the car collection of albums.

It's no surprise this album has been such an enduring success. Despite NOFX's defiant stance on corporate distribution or structure, the album has sold over a million copies worldwide. That's insane for an independent punk album, especially given the musical landscape of 1994. We had no iTunes or mp3s or bit torrent back then. All there was, was word of mouth, live shows, radio and MTV. This California crew of miscreants crafted some audaciously catchy songs with funny and intelligent lyrics to compliment them. On top of that, they stayed fresh through the whole album. No two songs are carbon copies of another, which is a difficult feat for any band but particularly in the punk genre.

'Linoleum' is fantastic, both as a song and an opener. It's full of huge melodies and harmony, with a great riff and heartfelt lyrics on the nature of materialism. I love strumming it on an acoustic guitar - it actually works surprisingly well as a stripped down tune, a sign of great songwriting. 'Leave It Alone' shares the same sense of poppy qualities paired with dingy punk aesthetic. 'Dig' has a wonderfully unexpected break in the middle for some ska-tinged guitars and trumpet. An amusing take on racial assumptions, 'Don't Call Me White' still has some of the same bite in today's climate as it did 16 years ago. My cousin was a huge fan (and won me over with) the epic and shimmering absurdity of 'Perfect Government'. This song, despite the tongue in cheek guitar heroics, has incredible hooks and some simple, yet ever the more timely lyrics. Give it a listen. 'Dying Degree' is as ear-catching as it is frenetic. In a surprise move, the closer 'Scavenger Type' is a poignant and moving little tale of a homeless man at his end.

Man. Great album. The trick of it, the real staying power of it, seems to stem from the real beauty and strength of writing hidden underneath the grime of speed-ball punk ethos. Dust this one of and see how the punk genre can really shine when given a chance. This album is proof that it's more than the reductive assumptions of 'three chords and an attitude'. Punk In Drublic is still phenomenal.

One More Thing

Okay, let me explain.


It is Halloween proper as I write this. Spooky Month has lived and thrived in the month of October. It's dying now, fading into the cold, dark abyss of Minnesota winter. As sad as I may be to see my favorite holiday come and go once again, it's not the end of the world. Fall here is a beautiful time; the leaves are changing. The air is crisp and clear. The first snow is beautiful. There - I said the S word. It's inevitable. Every year we have to face the undeniable return of the dreaded white stuff. Again, not the end of the world - it just feels like it. The older I've gotten, though, the more I see the beauty and natural order in it. So how does this tie in with the end of Spooky Month? Simple. I want to implore you to watch the 1982 version of The Thing.

The Thing is a classic of the horror genre, with a few unique twists that still set it apart from the modern dreck. Set in a research station on the South Pole, the movie tells a paranoia inducing tale of an alien creature that can change shape. That's really all I want to give away of a plot that's well worn and almost 30 years old. To say anymore would ruin a few good surprises. Kurt Russell stars as a burly and surly helicopter pilot who unravels the mystery in front of him, one shot of whiskey at a time. When a dog from a neighboring Norwegian research facility arrives at the station, being hunted by the last surviving Norske, things go awry and an expedition is sent out to find the facts. The venturing crew find...something...in the ice. The Norwegian camp is in ashes. When they return to their outpost, Russell and co. are faced with a terrifying, inhuman force. It. Is. Amazing.

There are so many things that work well in this movie. The direction is fantastic, establishing a sense of space in a grounded, if painfully cold, place. Watching this movie almost gets me excited for winter, if that makes any semblance of sense. The cast do a superb job of recoiling in the face of indescribable monstrosities, which brings me to the crux of the movie. The monster, the titular Thing, is astounding and horrifying, even today. The practical effects are appalling in the best possible way (WARNING - NOT SAFE FOR STOMACH). Consider yourself warned - this movie is not for the faint of heart. It's nasty and ultra grotesque. In spite of, or perhaps because of the graphic and slimy gore, The Thing is an astounding watch.

I have little to no interest in seeing the recent prequel in theaters. This version, directed by John Carpenter (in his first major outing), is a perfect stand-alone horror movie. The story is told so fantastically well, the beats so well spaced and timed, the plot so deftly woven, that seeing explicitly what happens before it is simply not necessary. The chaos in the Norwegian camp was so perfectly established in this version that I just don't see the point in revisiting it to tell their story. Maybe I'm wrong here, but I just feel Carpenter's version is such a great, singular thing that it doesn't need expansion.

So there you have it. One last gasp of Spooky Month to see you through to next year. Get ready for the impending winter with a horrifying, paranoid tale of isolation and mistrust. It'll keep your mind free of cabin fever for the next season. Or maybe not. Maybe you'll just get more suspicious of your companions. Either way, enjoy The Thing. Lights off, as always.

Where We've Been

Evening, gang.


If you're reading this, it's most likely Halloween where you are. I dig. I hope you're having as mega of a day as I am. I spent the previous day recapping the Saturday night hijinks, packing some boxes while watching spooky movies and opening a bottle of Cabernet to enjoy another Treehouse of Horror. Not bad, I have to say. My apartment has no kids, so no trick or treaters for me, to my dismay. I would have fun passing out candy. I would have fun with wine until I pass out, too, but that's not really a Halloween thing. I digress. This year I was a bull, my better half was a matador. Here's me:

Nice, right? Best of all - pretty darn cheap. Total cost? Five bones for the horns. All else was mine. Okay the leg warmers on my arms as hooves were courtesy of my better half. 


So I've written up and down about Spooky Month. I loved it. It gave me a chance to indulge in my spooky side and share some awesome Halloweenish things with the wider world. There are, however, some things that slipped through the cracks. These are the posts I wrote prior to Spooky Month that would have been totally appropriate to cut and paste if I had been short on time and creativity. In no particular order, you should check out:


The Thing and I - a genuinely creepy Treehouse of Horror installment, all set at night in a storm.
Silent Hill 2 - the most terrifying game I've ever played. An emotional trip, to say the least. HD collections for PS3 and 360 due out in January.
Cloverfield - A modern Gojira, my favorite monster movie. It's a crazy post-modern take on terrorist events.
Zombies Ate My Neighbors - An underrated gem for the SNes. A love letter to B Movie madness.
Crimson - Beautifully dark album from the Alkaline Trio. Lush and pulsing punk music to set the mood.
MST3K - The best way to enjoy old B Movies. Snark galore. Laughs abound. Legendary.
Old Boy - Not a horror movie, per se. Still a dark, twisted trip to the most tormented depths of humanity. Yeah.
Silent Hill - My love for a flawed, but well-intentioned cinematic adaptation of the video game series.
You Were Always On My Mind - Getting severely caught off guard by a creepy soundtrack.
Grabbed by the Ghoulies - A forgotten gem from Rare. Super fun and full of simple frights!
Maniac Mansion - One of the first great haunted house games. Packed with point-and-click antics.
House of Leaves - Watch a book eat itself like a snake swallowing its own tail.
World War Z - The definitive record of humanity's war on zombie-kind. A sprawling, epic tome.
I Hear You Calling - A great video by the band Gob with homages to Thriller.

So that about sums it up. It's been a month of scares and jumps, noises in the vents and things lurking around the corner. Hit up the Spooky label on the side bar for more goodness. Otherwise, come November 1st it's back to business as usual here. I've had a blast this past month. Hopefully you have too. I'll try to do more large scale themes in the future. Christmas Conundrum, perhaps?