Cover songs: The realization

I tweeted this the other day, but allow me to elaborate: Hooray to Buzzfeed for this very cool post, "15 Songs You Didn't Realize Were Covers." I'm proud to report I realized for 11 of them. In fact…

— In 1998, when "Torn" briefly fooled people into thinking Natalie Imbruglia was someone worth paying attention to, I actually saw Ednaswap in concert (at the still-extant Mercury Lounge). I was bored out of my gourd, although their version of "Torn" (much more spare and slower) was better, and they did a fun cover of the Police's "Next to You." Also, I took home a free pair of Ednaswap wrap-around shades. Rock & roll.

—I find it scandalous that anyone wouldn't know that Otis Redding wrote and originated "Respect," since his version is far and away superior to Aretha's which—brace yourselves—I think is pretty crappy. Just sayin'. I'd rather go with this Aretha…

Meanwhile, who the hell didn't know that Tiffany covered Tommy James and the Shondells? When Tiffany was all over the charts, the radio hate fest continually bemoaned what she had done to the excellent original (perhaps because around the same time, Billy Idol was messing around with TJ's "Mony Mony"). Anyway, for years, the grammarian side of me rankled at the chorus—"holding on to one another's hand"—but it turns out the "'each other' for two things/'one another' for three things" rule has fallen into disfavor among most authorities. So the song is Strunk and White approved.

—I'm sure plenty of people didn't realize that They Might Be Giants' "Istanbul" was a cover, but I'd wager none of those people particularly care. If there's one thing you can say about TMBG, it's that their fans are absurdly well informed. Another great TMBG song that was a cover: "New York City":

The original, by a Canadian band called Cub:

— I recently solicited on my Facebook wall, "Name a great song by a crappy band," and more than one person pegged "Cum on Feel the Noize" by Quiet Riot, which I thought was a valid and interesting choice (I myself offered "Ain't That Unusual" by the Goo Goo Dolls and "Interstate Love Song" by Suck Temple…sorry, that's Stone Temple Pilots). I'm not sure I'd say that Quiet Riot's is better than Slade's original, but it's certainly more friendly to my and most other Americans' ears; Slade was one of those acts that was beyond huge in the U.K. (among the best-selling acts of the '70s, I believe), but couldn't even approach that level of success in the U.S., like Gary Numan and my beloved Jam. There was just something perversely British about them that Quiet Riot managed to overcome with their boneheaded middle-America dirtbagness. However, Slade eventually did score an American hit, in 1984. When's the last time you heard this?

— Oh, boy, "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun"—I love Cyndi Lauper's version, had heard tell of the original by Robert Hazard (best known for this awful, wacky tune) many moons ago, but never heard it till just now. And man, this is some crazy shit. I can't tell if I love it, or if repeated listenings are driving me insane (apparently, this is a barely-released demo). Cyndi definitely kicked it into shape and improved it, not least because she turned it into a perfect '80s feminist anthem. "All of my girls are gonna walk in the sun" becomes "I wanna be the one to walk in the sun": You betcha.

—Never underestimate the power of a good interpreter: It's kind of surprising how many of these instances involve a far superior cover version: "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun," "Mickey" (the original, "Kitty," was the subject of a BQT question last year), "Hanging on the Telephone"—God, I love Blondie, and while their original "HOTT" is a little lacking, I also love the Nerves. Try this slice of genius:

—Which four did I not realize were covers? "Mambo No. 5" (not surprising in hindsight), "Don't Turn Around," "Gloria," and "The Crying Game." In other words, the ones that classic-rock/new-wave junkie Noah really doesn't care about. Oh, I do so love music!

— Finally, I'm going to add another entry: "Queen of Hearts," made famous by Juice Newton, originated by Wales's greatest rocker, Dave Edmunds (can't find an embed, though here it is), The versions are eerily similar, both are great…

A (mostly) uninformed listening of the top 50 singles of 2010: 31–40

Continuing on: A couple days ago, I realized I'd heard nearly none of the top singles of the year, so I'm listening to all 50 (per Rolling Stone) now, and giving each a fair review. Click here to read what I thought of 41–50; today's list, 31–40, features absolutely zero songs that I'd heard until today, but some definite gems. Subjectivity awaits, but hey, it's a blog.

40. “Power” – Kanye West

Kanye West epitomizes how thoroughly I’ve dropped out of the modern musical conversation: He is everywhere, created the year’s best album virtually by acclamation, yet I know next to nothing about him (I can recognize “Gold Digger,” that’s about it). This song is interesting, as good as hip-hop gets from my limited-enjoyment perspective: Such a great, bold sound, and samples a favorite of mine, King Crimson’s “21st-Century Schizoid Man.” And only 1:43 in length, so I appreciate the concision.

39. “The Diamond Church Street Choir” – The Gaslight Anthem

It’s a pretty sanitized, and the guy’s voice is totally contrived, but this is an okay, straight-between-the-eyes, I-wish-I-were-Bruce rock song; Hootie and the Blowfish if they had a lot of tattoos and were better songwriters. The guitarist is really good; some nifty Mark Knopfler figures dancing around in the background. But I can do without it.

38. “The Mystery Zone” – Spoon

In the early ‘00s, when I was still at least somewhat up on current indie rock, Spoon was the hottest thing among my aging hipster contingent for a couple months, and I tried to like them, I really did. But I could never get around what continually struck me as a defiantly derivative songwriting sensibility: Every one of their songs sounded like I’d heard it before. (Like Pavement, Spoon was a band that I found to be about as interesting as its name.) But "Mystery Zone" finally breaks through with me. We’re clearly hearing from a more mature sensibility here. There’s an incantatory thing going on: He keeps repeating “the mystery zone,” and that combined with a spookily insistent bassline drives the song dangerously close to hypnotizing me. Must…like…Spoon! Great ending too, and excellent musicianship; good song.

37. “Beamer, Benz or Bentley” – Lloyd Banks ft. Juelz Santana

Really? We’re still doing this? Empty-headed paeans to fly rides and ho’s? I appreciate the great rhythm here, the flawless production, that amazing vocal hook (I’m going to have “Beamer, Benz or Bentley” running through my head for, oh, the next two millennia), but this song is the apotheosis of what I don’t like about stereotypical hip-hop: the coldly off-putting combination of conspicuous consumption and antiseptic production. Yeah, yeah, I ripped on that parent-friendly B.o.B. song too—I guess there’s a narrow sweet spot for me when it comes to this genre (and the mighty Kanye hits it, so I must not be alone).

36. “Up All Night” – Drake ft. Nicki Minaj

I hadn’t heard Nicki Minaj before, but I had read an article about her that hailed her first album as “the fastest-selling debut female solo release since Lauryn Hill,” which sounded like the most absurdly qualified praise I’d ever read. Anyway, both she and Drake have good, distinctive voices, but there’s not a lot of variance in their delivery: They strike the exact same don’t-fuck-with-me poses throughout this song. A little more soul than the Lloyd Banks song above, and excellently produced, but again, not what I will ever be in the market for.

35. “Paradise Circus” – Massive Attack ft. Hope Sandoval

Ah, trip-hop: How I miss you, late ‘90s. During my music journalism career, I once interviewed the frontman of Massive Attack on the phone, and when I (foolishly) let slip that I hadn’t listened to their album (the publicist had accidentally sent me an empty CD sleeve), he started insulting me. It probably wouldn’t have made a difference, because back then, I found this kind of music about as interesting as wallpaper paste, and nothing has changed. There isn’t anything here that couldn’t be straight from 1999: the washing sonic textures that sound like they’re banged out on an expensive Casio, the female vocalist who couldn’t be bothered to have a cup of coffee this morning, even the “trippy” song title. Next!

34. “Stylo” – Gorillaz feat. Mos Def and Bobby Womack

Nice! A great synthesis of modern techno-noodling and genuine classic soul-pop sound (man, Bobby Womack has one hell of a voice!). This is how you do mellow and trippy. I’ll never put something like this on voluntarily, but I’ll definitely enjoy it while browsing at H&M. Gorillaz—my favorite shopping-for-clothes-and-wishing-I-had-a-girlfriend-to-help-me band.

33. “Post Acid” – Wavves

Rolling Stone describes this song as “part Buzzcocks”—I’m listening. Not bad: Definitely has that jumpy, reved-up rock element that I so very much love. A solid melodic hook, though it’s way too herky-jerky to remind me of the Buzzcocks (whose melodies were always very smooth), and it sort of wears out its welcome, even at less than two and a half minutes. The calculated lo-fi sound typically grates on me, but I’m working on getting over that; I think it’s just jealousy over the fact that I never formed a band in my garage.

32. “Enter the Ninja” – Die Antwoord

A crazy South African rap duo, apparently. This is very, very weird—some guy rapping in Afrikanglish, a woman chiming in on the choruses with a helium voice, all over a dark computerized rhythm. Unique, and extremely catchy. But it makes me feel a little dirty.

31. “I’m New Here” – Gil Scott Heron

A legendary '70s musical poet mounts a comeback. Emphasis on legend; I’d long heard of this guy, but never heard him. About what I expect, a soulful free-form rap over a crystalline acoustic guitar. This is intriguing stuff, but it’s apples and oranges comparing this with Die Antwoord and Ke$ha (forget apples and oranges; it’s apples and protozoa). This is Rolling Stone’s problem: It tries to be everything to everyone, but music (and pop culture) is just too broad to boil down into credibly ranked top-40 lists.

Next time, I hit the halfway point. This is fun!

Crappy song vs. crappier song

Have you ever had the barest wisp of a thought set off a chain reaction that leads you down an Internet spiral? A passing musing touches off a certain half-buried memory; a quick google later and you're absorbed in many pointless minutes of Web surfing and time wasting.

Such happened to me yesterday. I can't even recall what the match was exactly that lit the fuse, but suddenly I had Rick Springfield on the brain. (True confession: As a young child, I confused him with Bruce Springsteen. Common enough—Springfield even had a minor hit song on the subject—but for some ungodly reason, I confused them both with Dan Fogelberg.) Springfield is a common punching bag among rock snobs, but if you take a few minutes to actually listen to his music, you realize that yes, he actually does suck. Fine, "Jessie's Girl" is dumb fun, but there's a reason why you can hardly remember any other of his massive hit songs. (This is a very credible contender for my "worst song ever" award.) Springfield seems like a good guy, but he was just not very talented, and managed to largely coast by on his soap-opera good lucks—literally; he was a soap star before he hit big on the charts. The fact that he always sounded like he was trying too hard to prove his hard-rock cred only makes his music more awkward and pitiful.

So I thought of Rick Springfield, and then I thought of Kristina. Several years ago, I had a girlfriend by that name, and I told her that Rick Springfield had a song about her name—same spelling and everything. (How I remembered this, I have no clue.) "Kristina" was on the same album as "Don't Talk to Strangers," so zillions of people must have heard it at some point, though I hadn't in an age. But my GF—who, how shall I put this, wasn't exactly compatible with me in terms of musical taste—rushed out and bought the CD, and bounced along happily as we listened to "her" song, again and again, during a road trip. Here you go:

The standard Springfieldian problems: sloppy musicianship, boneheaded lyrics ("I can make love a work of art!"), the sound of a man expending too much energy in all the wrong ways, and a complete lack of understanding of how to properly use keyboards in a rock song. (Here's the all-time best example. Maybe this too.) It is the ultimate irony that anyone confused him with Bruce; he was perhaps the anti-Springsteen.

But yesterday, revisiting this song, I suddenly remembered something: This was a rip-off. Maybe not a rip-off, but definitely a bizarre reworking. As a young teenager, I'd been a moderate fan of —brace yourselves—Bachman-Turner Overdrive (even before I moved to Canada). I've since gotten over that, although "You Ain't Seen Nothin' Yet" and "Let It Ride" are not without their charms. But I suddenly recalled, hiding at the very end of side two of BTO's Greatest Hits, there's a song called "Jamaica." Compare and contrast:

This was from the 1979 album Rock n' Roll Nights, post the departure of linchpin Randy Bachman (whom, by the way, I would give a full-throated defense of, if only because he was in the Guess Who). This was BTO's swan song, a halfhearted attempt to inject some glam elements into their hard rock, and while "Jamaica" has a decent hook and the band is musically capable, it's pretty dopey. And lead vocalist Jim Clench sounds unnervingly like Ozzy Osbourne. Still, I think this is miles better than "Kristina." That's how much Rick Springfield sucks—he can't even cover a Bachman-Turner Overdrive deep-album cut without fucking it up.

Curious, I researched this odd confluence. "Jamaica" is credited to songwriter Jim Vallance, while "Kristina" is officially by Vallance and Springfield himself, who clearly rewrote the lyrics. Vallance has written songs for a pretty impressive array of pop names from the late '70s/early '80s, Canadian and otherwise, but he's perhaps best known for taking Bryan Adams to the top. His fingerprints are on several of Adams's biggest hits, and in fact I ran across his name while researching a question from last summer's BQT Summer Fun Spectacular; it seems when Bry was going around telling people that "Summer of '69" was about the sex position and not the year, Vallance argued otherwise. His account, per his official site.

Then, I poked around Vallance's site to see what he had to say about "Kristina." He doesn't seem upset about it at all (he probably made a shitload of money off it, after all); he even lists Springfield's full dumb-ass lyrics. I was surprised, but then I realized something—it's not like Jim Vallance was writing tunes for the Clash. Am I really surprised that a guy who made his bones writing for BTO and Bryan Adams liked a Rick Springfield song?

This is the problem with falling down an Internet spiral What kind of underworld of pop-music mediocrity had I ensconced myself in? Back to the good stuff then.

Backwards messages seggasem sdrawkcab

I just discovered this excellent Web page: Jeff Milner's Backmasking Site. I have no idea who Jeff Milner is, but I applaud him for doing our culture a valuable service. As a kid, I was way into stories of backward messages in records; my friend and I even messed up his parents' turntable trying to hear the "turn me on, dead man" in "Revolution No. 9." Later, at camp, some guys and I figured out how to crack open a cassette tape and switch the reels so that you can play it backward; we spooked ourselves hearing "It's fun to smoke marijuana" in "Another One Bites the Dust." It didn't occur to me at the time that a supposed love of smoking weed was probably the least weird thing about Freddie Mercury.

So enjoy. I think my favorite is "Break on Through." I hate the Doors; I consider Jim Morrison one of the most unintentionally hilarious characters in history, so it's fun to think that maybe, just maybe, he was actually the personification of evil.

The Super Mega Ultra Hard Question of the Week

Yes. Yes! YES!

Another Super Mega Ultra Hard Question of the Week. Starting now, expect them on a more regular schedule.

Send your answer to info@bigquizthing.com by SUNDAY, MARCH 8. A randomly selected correct response will win free admission to the show. You dig? You dig.

NT's greatest hits, vol. 3

Continuing a series about my all-time favorite tunes. For the time being, I'm going to limit it to one song per entry. Perhaps it'll now take longer for me to make it through the whole list, but then again, smaller entries might encourage me to post more often. (Six of one, half dozen of the other—I've always liked that saying.) This week's randomly selected song…


"Reelin' in the Years" by Steely Dan
Like a lot of music geeks, I discovered this band by listening to classic-rock radio as a teen, and then ordering A Decade of Steely Dan from Columbia House. I like them, though not as passionately as many, many I've met over the years; I find that the most ravenous Steely Dan fans tend to also be jazzheads, of which I most certainly am not (I can spell Thelonious, but that's about as far as my expertise goes). Becker and Fagen approach music from a very experimental viewpoint, and they used to do a shitload of drugs, so I see the connection.

But I am some kind of fan—at last Monday's quiz, in the adultery-themed audio round, you heard my second-favorite Dan song, but "Reelin' in the Years" takes the prize. I find this song has a lot more forward momentum than most of the band's other hits, more rocking, less noodling (partly thanks to a stunningly masterful guitar part by Elliott Randall). Plus, it tackles (or at least touches upon) my go-to lyrical theme, lost love and frustrating women. But the narrator of "Reelin' in the Years" seems more wistful than bitter, making this a nice counterpoint to most of the breakup songs on my salt-in-wounds playlist: "Well, you wouldn't even know a diamond if you held it in your hand/The things you think are precious I can't understand." Becker'sFagen's offhanded, rambling vocal performance gets a lot of credit for that mood. "Reelin' in the Years" is the closest thing to an exact hybrid of jazz and a perfect pop song.

Going to keep it short, and going to avoid making a fool of myself if there are any Dan nuts out there. You definitely know who you are.

Super Mega Ultra Hard Trivia Question of the Week: 11/22/08

I'm starting to think that the best thing about these posts is the weirdo frozen look on my face below.

Anyway, some musical trivia for y'all, my somewhat specialty…

Exposure! Hooray!

As mentioned here a couple weeks ago, the BQT made an appearance of sorts at the Bonnaroo music fest in Tennessee recently; we got a page in the official event guide, featuring trivia about the various musicians who performed. The world's population of indie-rock-loving pseudohippies should now be fully aware of our existence. A scan below.

Yeah, okay, maybe it's impossible to see. I ain't so good with these here computas.

Want Quizmaster Noah to custom-write trivia for your own fest/event/séance/amusement? E-mail him at noah@bigquizthing.com.

A night on YouTube

Friday night, I spent a pleasant evening with my friend Sherry, whom you might know as the BQT's sometime doorgal (and stalwart member of sometime ass-kicking team Adam Smith's Invisible Hand Job). We revived one of our favorite activities: firing up the ol' Infrawebs, cruising over to YouTube, and taking turns cueing up dimly remembered music videos from our past (in Sherry's case, usually clips she recalled from the heyday of 120 Minutes). You know, just like the olden days…

I started by selecting a mutual favorite: "Buffalo" by Stump. Watch closely:



This video is awesome. I remember it from childhood, being fascinated by its weirdness, but the weirdness holds up. And besides the fact that it's funny and freaky, I'm finally realizing just how great a song this is. These guys clearly knew how to play (a friend of Sherry's once commented that the band seems to have jazz training). I watch it again and again and thank YouTube for the supreme blessing.

Sherry then took us here. You know this…



Def Leppard isn't really my thing (though I consider "Photograph" to be one of the greatest songs ever), but I've often said that they were geniuses. The happened upon the perfect hybrid of heavy metal and glam: rocking enough so that your typical mainstream metalhead would include it in his collection, but flashy and colorful enough to attract regular folks, including tons of women. These guys must've gotten ridiculous amounts of tail.

Anyway, Sherry told me that back in the day, she was in love with the redhead guitarist, Steve Clark, the one guy who looks completely uninterested and stoned in this video. Oh, those young girls and their bad boys… (As you might know, Clark died less than ten years later from drugs/alcohol/etc.) But recently, now that Sherry is a grown woman with taste and proper intelligence, she's recognized the then-hotness of the frontman, Joe Elliott—you know, the guy working his ass off. Hooray for maturity.

Because old videos would be nothing without the cheese, I then dialed up what might be the worst video I've ever seen. Be prepared:



This is just abominable. I mean, who the hell were these idiots? Apparently, this was the 41st video ever played on MTV—I mean, I know MTV was desperate for material in the early days (I think nine tenths of its first month was entirely given over to REO Speedwagon concert footage), but come on.

What I find most interesting, though, is how these guys were clearly uncomfortable with the (understandably) novel concept of making a music video. They couldn't seem to handle being videotaped—look how they're compulsively screwing around (completely at odds with the tone of the song), doing that "I'm being excessively silly to cover up the fact I'm totally uncomfortable" routine. (The drummer's my favorite, trying to figure out what to do with his sticks sans kit—Sherry's theory is that they couldn't get a permit to set it up in the street.) Nowadays, any band hoping to make it—hell, any entertainer of any kind—better get used to performing for the camera, but it's an interesting window into the early '80s to see how hard it was for so many musicians of the era.

Finally, Sherry played another of our mutual favorites. You might know it, you might love it:



This video changed my life when I first saw it, on a Dr. Demento MTV special when I was 12. I'd never heard of They Might Be Giants, but I loved it instantly, and they remain one of my favorite bands. And it's a testament to their talent (and our good taste) that these guys still have a career today, even if they got only minimal notice at the time. Critics dismissed them as novelty idiots; this video didn't even fucking show up on MTV's Top 100 Videos of the '80s show in late '89, but Richard Marx had three big entries.

The coolest thing about this video, again, is how weird it is. What TMBG managed to do, in my opinion, was appropriate a lot of the ideas behind "weird" rock & roll (think Zappa/Beefheart kind of stuff) and find room for them within the easily digestible pop-song format. True, Devo had done some of that, but TMBG was just a couple steps more cuddly and less confrontational, without dumbing it down. Hence, 12-year-old dorks like me got on the bus, and here we are two decades later: TMBG plays the theme song to The Daily Show and is interviewed on NPR every two hours, and Richard Marx is working at a Chick-Fil-A in Dayton, Ohio. Justice is served.