I can't believe I gave my panties to a geek.

Seemingly like all [okay, maybe not the Amish] women of my generation [and Kevin Smith], I once had an unhealthily obsessive relationship with the movies of Illinois' own John Hughes. I saw myself in all the freaky female protagonists and longed for the day when my handsome, popular prince charming would lure me out of my black nail polish and tattered clothes and lead me to the promised land of open-mouthed kisses and makeup the color of things actually found in nature. And guess what, my pretties? That shit doesn't happen. The wiry geek with headgear doesn't get to fuck the prom queen. The dreamy wrestler never makes out with the bi-polar liar with dandruff. It's all a sham. And, despite all these inexplicably doe-eyed Gen Xers who in retrospect still give Hughes icon status, ultimately Hughes' little fantasies were no more significant to me than all millions of cheesy Cinderella stories out there today. Well, except for the fact that I know the dialogue of every Hughes flick by heart. (Seriously, Hollywood, I don't care about presidents' daughters and how tough it is for them to find romance, so just stop!)

But there's one thing about John Hughes movies I still appreciate: the music. That's not to say that all of the music he used was good, by any means, but at least it was different from the pop machine utilized in other movies of the era, most of which were stuffed full of Kenny Loggins, Carly Simon and Bob Seger. And, as connoisseurs of Hughes' soundtracks well know, he and his minions loved the covers.

Some Kind of Wonderful:
SKOW is, ostensibly, my lingering favorite of Hughes' films, if only because it's far more realistic for two outcast friends to eventually hook up when one's nonsensical dreams of dating the popular gal fail. And that "practice" kiss scene between Eric Stoltz and Mary Stuart Masterson still makes the 12-year-old inside me completely melt.

March Violets "Miss Amanda Jones" (Rolling Stones cover)
Ah, the energy that's building when this song plays. Amanda is getting ready for her date with Keith, which she really has no desire to attend. She's flicking her hair around under her dryer and Keith's dad is riding him about college, which he no longer has the savings for because he spent all of his damned money trying to impress this dopey, spineless sycophant Lea Thompson expertly plays.

I was not previously familiar with The March Violets when this movie came out, nor am I quite down with them now. The quick Internet research I performed a minute ago leads me to believe that many people consider them a goth band, but having only heard this cover, I have a difficult time believing that since this sounds only slightly darker than Katrina and the Waves' "Walking on Sunshine." But whatever. It is what it is.

Lick the Tins "Can't Help Falling in Love" (Elvis Presley cover)
I think I have to credit this cover with introducing me to how distinctly different a cover can sound from its original and, thus, spurring me on to investigate other cover songs. This quirky, dancey little Celtic folk version of Elvis' ubiquitous ballad always made me picture Leprechauns dancing around a May pole on a glenn somewhere. Or maybe I was just having "Safety Dance"-video flashbacks.


Ferris Bueller's Day Off:
When I was in the 8th grade, I took a weekend painting class at the Art Institute of Chicago. One day, the instructor didn't show up and I wound up wandering around the museum (past some of the same paintings Ferris & Co. pondered in the film) trying to find my mom and my friends who'd come up with me that day. After doing the Museum thing, we headed off to do the shopping thing. But as we neared State Street, there was unexpectedly a mass of people milling about. It looked as if there were a parade, but nothing was moving. We asked a random passerby what was going on and, lo and behold, we were told, "They're shooting a new Matthew Broderick movie." Of course, we promptly joined the crowd and wound up spending the day as unpaid extras in Ferris Bueller's Day Off, and at one point found ourselves toward the front of the faux float about a foot away from Broderick as he lip-synched "Twist and Shout" about a hundred times. Eventually, we wound up toward the back of the float, and, of course, are not seen at all in the movie, but it was a cool experience.

Dream Academy "Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get what I Want (Instrumental)" (Smiths cover)
Hughes apparently really liked this song, as versions of it wound up in both of his 1986 films. The original was in Pretty in Pink, which Hughes wrote but didn't direct and this pretty instrumental cover was in the aforementioned Art Institute scene of FBDO and was pretty and perfect.

Pretty in Pink:
Yes, I related to Andie in PIP. Yes, I thought she should've gone with Duckie instead of Blaine. Yes, I liked this movie at the time. Yes, I still watch it from time to time when I catch it on cable.

Now for the "but": But its message sucks. Sure, Andie doesn't change who she is to get Blaine to fall for her, but the coolest character in the damned movie, Iona [Annie Potts], has to become a fucking yuppie in order to find love. And what about Blaine is so appealing? Yeah, Andrew McCarthy's kinda cute in that dopey, dough-faced way, but the Blaine character in no way deserves Andie. In the version of this movie that exists in my mind, the movie doesn't end with Andie and Blaine kissing in the parking lot. It my version, it ends about a month later when they break up because they have absolutely nothing in common. Then Andie dates Duckie a while until he comes out of the closet. Then she goes away to college and has her heart broken a million more times by people she actually had real connections with. You know, like guys in bands.

Yes, I'm bitter. No need to point this out to me, I already know.

But, again, the chosen music was pretty good for the most part. Indeed, it introduced me to New Order and, therefore, Joy Division. Ditto Echo and the Bunnymen. So, there's merit there. (And others agree, as the PIP soundtrack has at least two cover tributes, see here and here.) I remember reading an interview with Hughes and Ringwald before the release of the movie in which they discussed how none of the music in the film was an afterthought. They also discussed Hughes' decision to use Ringwald's favorite band, The Rave-Ups, in the club scenes. Curiously, however, those tracks were not offered on the soundtrack, which always kinda pissed me off.

Danny Hutton Hitters "Wouldn't It Be Good?" (Nik Kershaw cover)
This cover always seemed pointless to me. I was aware of the Nik Kershaw version only because, after seeing its video the first time on Friday Night Videos at my friend Sherie's house in Bloomington, Sherie promptly ridiculed me for never having heard it. I guess what's big in Southern Indiana isn't always what's big in major cities. Go figure. And, Sherie's ridicule aside, I didn't get what the big deal about it was. I found it to be mediocre pop snoozefest on par with John Waite's "Missing You," which I likewise hated despite its obviously ironic lyrics.

Anyhow, this version isn't much more exciting than the original except, I guess, that it's performed by the band of a former Three Dog Night singer. If that's the sort of thing you find exciting.

Next time: I'll post covers of some of the original songs from Hughes soundtracks.

Get these hard times right on out of our minds.

The track from the last entry should be working now. Sorry about the delay.

In a blizzard he was lost.

Langley Schools Music Project "Wildfire" (Michael Martin Murphey cover)

I know, I know. Everyone and their brother posts Langley Schools tracks. But A) the Langley covers are pure pop wonders and B) I was recently reminded of my favorite (read: only) "Wildfire"-related story, with which I will now bore regale you:

About seven or so years ago, I was working as a lead clerk in a Borders music department. Um, yeah. So my Christian-rock co-worker Gretchen started a monthly open mike event and kept begging me to attend. Hesitant to perform any songs I had written in front of other human people, I kept "accidentally" forgetting. Eventually, I went just to watch.

Now, the store at which I worked was (and possibly still is) the largest store in the chain and it had some deal with a local halfway house from which it hired people for the "Operations" staff (read: janitors). These folk were, for the most part, former alcholics/drug addicts and most were quite tolerable. Then there was Joe Star.

Man, Joe was the bane of my existence for years at that place. He was simple-minded and right-wing (well, he would have been right-wing had he known much about politics) and always said really inappropriate things that would've gotten anyone else fired, but since he was, uh, special, the higher-ups always seemed to look the other way.* But, seriously, he was often overheard in the breakroom commenting on a female employees' breasts, ranting about "faggots," talking about how he wanted all cops dead, etc. I often made a game of listening to his rant and then telling him something like "um, my dad's a cop" just to watch him backtrack and apologize. (My dad is not a cop.)

Another thing Joe talked a lot about was music. He was really into people like Aliotta, Haynes & Jeremiah and the like. He'd often interrupt me while I was helping actual customers by shouting things like "hey, hey, Liza ... have you heard anything about this Kenny Loggins album?" and I'd respond exasperatedly with something along the lines of "um, no, Joe ... not in the past 20 years anyhow." [As you probably know, most music retailers make you sign a contract to be a total snot to practically everyone.] Joe once told me he aspired to and was successful at buying himself a new piece of musical equipment every time he got a paycheck. I was forever wondering how his one-room, dorm-style apartment (he described it, I never saw it for myself, of course) was able to fit all the guitars, amps and keyboards he supposedly had.

So, fast forward to the open mike. I finally decided to attend when Joe, tan as ever and wearing his trademarked tapered-at-the ankle jeans with his super-shiny dyed jet-black hair, approached me in the breakroom and told me he'd be singing there. This I had to see.

The open mike progressed as most do ... uncomfortably. Gretchen sang some God songs, a few other people played, and then it was Joe's turn. And, oh my God, was an irony-lover's dream come true!

I noticed as Joe approached the mike, he did not have an instrument. My pulse raced and my thoughts quickened: "Holy shit. Is Joe going to sing acappella? Fuck. Somebody hold my hand, or I'm going to explode with laughter."

But that was nothing compared with what really happened. Joe stands before the mike, backpack in hand. From said pack, he produces a fucking Walkman. He places the earphones of said fucking Walkman over his sparkling black mane and presses play. Yes, my friends, Joe Star proceeded to belt out "Wildfire" along with his tape deck, despite the fact that none of us in the audience could hear the music.

It was unadulterated outsider-art brilliance!!! My favorite part was that, during the non-vocal parts of the song, he stood staring out at the audience completely expressionless.

I swear, it was so funny I almost came. I managed to hold in my ecstatic laughter by clenching my hand hard into Gretchen's thigh. But it was difficult.

And even though I went on to continue despising almost everything about Joe Star—especially the strange cosmic joke that has him currently living somewhere in my neighborhood area so I see him ALL the time and he ALWAYS feels the need to try to talk to me—"Wildfire" has been special to me ever since. I really wish video camera cell phones existed back then. (And, of course, that I'd have had one on me at the time.)

I swear, if I were a performance artist that's the kind of shit I'd do all the time.

*Actually, he was eventually fired for some inappropriate comment he made to a customer, I think, but it took years.

I don't have to dream alone.

My latest horoscope via the awesome Free Will Astrology:

Cancer:
Young rock bands often do cover tunes, copies of songs originally performed by well-known musicians they admire. Art teachers sometimes give their students the assignment of reproducing the great paintings of the old masters. To take maximum advantage of the current astrological influences, I suggest you use this strategy in your own unique way, Cancerian. Pick a hero, either dead or alive, either famous or unsung, whose approach to life you admire. Find out as much as you can about that person, and then engage in a flurry of imitation. Dress, talk, think, and dream like your hero. In every situation you're in, ask yourself what he or she would do. Have imaginary conversations, fantasize abundantly, and move through your days and nights as if you are that person.

Today I choose Wendy O. Williams.

I remember perusing my father's seemingly infinite record collection as a child and stumbling on not one but two Plasmatics albums. At the time, I'm not sure what perplexed me more: the fact that this band existed at all or the fact that, should this band actually exist as it appeared to, my father would own two of its albums. Then again, the late '70s and early '80s were heady times for my dad and his friends, whom he often entertained while I was supposed to be asleep in the back bedroom.

Anyhow, a few years after finding the albums, I remember reading about Wendy O. Williams and crew and knew instantly that I felt then what I feel now about most seminal art-punk-metal outfits: I'm glad that bands like this exist, but I'm not particularly interested in listening to them.

Still, getting arrested multiple times on obscenity charges and regularly attacking guitars with chainsaws while wearing nothing but black electrical tape over your nipples and leather bikini bottoms is pretty fucking badass.

In the mid-1990s, I was hanging out with Syd Straw at an Iris DeMent show and she introduced me to the Plasmatics' bass player Richie Stotts, who was in Bloomington working on, I believe, a master's degree in geology at IU. I was drunk and probably said stupid things to him about my dad's record collection, but later that night I felt pretty fucking cool for having met the giant former blue-mohawked guy from the album covers.

So, yeah, Wendy O. Williams was hardcore and today I feel fucking hardcore. But, luckily for everyone, I have no plans to head out sans shirt. Rather, I'll just keep my tape-obscured nipples at home and scream profanities at anyone who calls me and maybe set fire to all the laundry I don't want to do. And dye my hair. And drink a lot and get really high.

Just remind me not to off myself when the adrenaline wears off.

The Plasmatics "Dream Lover" (Bobby Darin cover)

Lumber up, limbo down.

Hole "Hungry Like the Wolf" (Duran Duran cover)
You know, I was pulling for our, uh, fair Courtney for a long time. You have to admit that for a few years there she was pretty bad-ass. When Hole was on MTV's Unplugged, from whence this track comes, back in the late 1990s, I really thought she was going to get her shit together. Still, I thought it would've been nice had she taken the time to actually learn the lyrics of this ubiquitous DD tune before performing it. I guess I'll never understand that punk/grunge/insert-whatever's-cool-now penchant for covering songs you don't really know and whose lyrics you can't be bothered to investigate.

Melissa Auf der Maur "Love Is the Drug" (Roxy Music cover)
This live cover of ex-Hole (heh) Melissa Auf der Mar is significantly more worthwhile than Courtney's mutilation of Duran Duran. And that she's covering a band that influenced Duran Duran rather than covering Duran Duran itself increases her indie cred tenfold.

The problem is, for many years, I've lived my life publicly.

Telly Savalas "If" (Bread cover)
A holdover from last week's brief soft-rock fixation, this track comes straight from the William Shatner School of Spoken Covers. When I was a little kid, my grandmother watched a lot of Kojak, and I must admit his rumored sex appeal was lost on me. But I was only about 3, and I liked the idea of lollipops so it was all good. Now, thanks to the barrage of forced nostalgia that VH1 is consistently shoveling down our throats ad infinitum, I have to admit that, thanks to a few choice Kojak clips, for a while there I was starting to get it. Unconventionally handsome, tough, virile, bald? Lust seems a reasonable reaction to that to me at 32. Then I heard this.

Jamelia "Numb" (Linkin Park cover)
Nu metal, when in ballad form, is the new soft rock. Whiny geeks lamenting the fact that their girlfriends are smothering them? Cue the damned violins, my heart is soooo breaking for them. New run-of-the-mill dance/R&B chanteuse Jamelia's piano-heavy version is surprisingly pretty good. I think. What I can say for sure is that it makes me laugh a lot less than the original does.

Cat Power "Deep Inside" (Mary J. Blige cover)
Cat Power sings pretty songs, covers or no. This Peel Session cut of one of my favorite MJB tracks rules.

With you I'm not shy to show the way I feel.

As you're all well aware, I'm prone to sicknesses of the ironic variety. This blog merely showcases one of them. Most recently—in addition to my inexplicable desire to watch the worst movie ever, Stephen King's Dreamcatcher, repeatedly on cable—my guiltiest of guilty pleasures is currently the '70s soft rock hit.

It seems that in the '70s, men and women songwrights alike suddenly felt safe sharing the let's-work-through-this journal entries their therapists made them write by turning them into "deep" and "meaningful" ballads rife with metaphors and analogies and general "I'm OK, You're OK" wussiness. Gone was the ambiguity of the lyrics of the '50s and early '60s when everyone was dreamy and breakups were poppy. All of a sudden, it was okay to whine like a bassett hound, tell the truth, open yourself up to everyone and, subsequently, face severe ridicule from "real" rock stars. And all without any real vocal passion. Weird.

Until the past year or so, I actively ignored (that's possible, right?) the genre, primarily because it brought back memories of being trapped in a car with my chain-smoking mother on my way to the horror of nursery school and kindergarten in Crown Point, Indiana: the time I got in trouble for using my middle finger to guide my eyes as I read a book; the time I had to sit at the lunch table all day because I wouldn't eat the egg salad sandwich being forced upon me; being scolded for singing the "it's a bitch, girl" line of Hall & Oates "Rich Girl" ... all of these memories come flooding back the second I hear the beginning strains of any successful '70s sap.

I predict my temporary fascination with this once-despised genre will end within the next few weeks, but for now it's here and I'm its biggest fan. But I'm not the only one. Observe ...

Floorfilla "Sister Golden Hair" (America cover)
Next to country and smooth jazz/R&B, most soft-rock covers appear to be of the Eurotechno variety. Recipe: Hire someone who can summon a Jamaican accent for the spoken intro, speed up the beat, eventually throw in a carnivalesque, Vengaboysian (shut up, it's a word!) pipe organ and be sure to periodically give the chick's vocals that warbly effect initially popularized by Cher's "Believe." Et voila! You and your friends are unwittingly raving to the oldies. Helpful hint: Take the X a few hours before downloading.

58 "Alone Again (Naturally)" (Gilbert O'Sullivan cover)
If half of Bran Van 3000's members were ex-heroin addicts and Baz Luhrmann was producing their album, this could be the product. Instead, we've Nikki Sixx, Barry Gibb's son and a few other rock weirdos to blame for this. Not as bad as I thought it would be, but not necessarily good.

Millie Jackson "Just When I Needed You Most" (Randy VanWarmer cover)
Oh, yes, Millie! This is how this song should sound. I mean, the motherfucker is leaving you. Just when you need him most! I need to hear the ire, and the often-blunt Millie couldn't resist adding her own little "fuck you" asides because she wants you to feel what this song is really about. Much better than the Japanese boy-band [name unknown] version of this track that literally took me seven hours to download the other night. And much more strong and passionate than the original, although I will say that "VanWarmer" is an all-too-apropos name for someone who writes touchy-feely '70s ballads.

Matthew Sweet "Magnet & Steel" (Walter Egan cover)
I love Matthew Sweet, but he doesn't really do much with this. I'd rather hear a terrible cover that tries something new than a competent cover that's not different enough from the original to matter. Luckily, this is from the Sabrina the Teenage Witch soundtrack CD (there's such a thing?), so until now, no one had to hear it. Heh.

Rockell "We Just Disagree" (Dave Mason cover)
Zzzzzzzzz. Cheesy freestyle "diva" Rockell is only nominally talented. Dave Mason's association with Steve Winwood, a soft-rocker whom even irony will not allow me to enjoy, ensures my disinterest. [Shudder.] In my opinion, a true case of the bland leading the bland. [Note: For a great Rockell-related cover, Rufus Wainwright covers the originally-recorded-by-Rockell track "Instant Pleasure" on the Big Daddy soundtrack and gives it a depth you'd never expect upon hearing the original.]

Yesterday don't matter if it's gone.

I spared you the Julian Lennon version.

Fleming Pie "Ruby Tuesday" (Rolling Stones cover)
Somewhere between J-Pop and J-indie falls Fleming Pie, a Japanese outfit with a handful of cover-only, out-of-print maxi CDs that are nearly impossible to find physically in the US or anywhere. On this track, they futz a bit with the timing, stretching out the words into a bizarre twee warble. Marginally interesting.

Melanie "Ruby Tuesday" (Rolling Stones cover)
Ah, Melanie! I was so happy a few years back when the always insane "Brand New Key" made it onto the Boogie Nights soundtrack, thus introducing its aforementioned insanity to a new, younger, unsuspecting audience. And don't get me started on her high-pitched folksy ire on "Look What They've Done to My Song, Ma." There are points in this track in which she sounds so impassioned—and not unlike a cat in heat—that I can't tell whether or not I should be laughing at it. But I do.

Sex Mob "Ruby Tuesday" (Rolling Stones cover)
Improv jazz quartet that performs mostly covers. I'd say this is my favorite version posted today, if only because it's the most unique.

Thelma Houston "Ruby Tuesday" (Rolling Stones cover)
Houston's "Don't Leave Me This Way" is, in the wake of the '70s revivals that happen every five years or so, one of the only ultra-ubiquitous disco tracks I can stomach. Donna Summer's always impressive vocal range notwithstanding, Houston's deep, powerful voice lends a sincerity to songs—cover and otherwise—that, to me, wins out over the "Ring My Bells" and "Do Ya Think I'm Sexys." (Somewhat related: Did any Chicagoans catch the PBS special about the Steve Dahl-fueled "Disco Sucks" demolition riot at Comiskey in '79? I remember seeing that on the news as a kid and thinking it was pretty cool, despite the fact that I liked disco. Now I think it's pretty damned stupid.)

Oliver "Ruby Tuesday" (Rolling Stones cover)
Some say Oliver's 1969 version of Hair's "Good Morning Starshine" is one of the worst singles ever to make the charts. But you gotta admit the X-Files-y Mr.-Burns-as-alien episode of The Simpsons that pays homage to it rules. I kinda like dippy '60s pop covers. Sue me.

Jad Fair & Daniel Johnston (& Chris Bultman) "Ruby Tuesday" (Rolling Stones cover)
Ugh. Go figure. Work is keeping me busy. Read about the album from which this comes here.

I lead you to moonlight only to burn you with the sun.

I'm sick today and don't feel much like writing, but that shouldn't mean you have to be deprived of covers insanity.

Ze Malibu Kids (Jeff and Steve McDonald from Redd Kross with their wives Charlotte Caffey [Go-Go's] and Anna Waronker [that dog.], respectively) "You're So Vain" (Carly Simon cover)

Baxendale "(Keep Feeling) Fascination" (Human League cover)

X DJ Bass* "She's Like the Wind" (Patrick Swayze cover)
*That's the name that the file says, but I can't find any evidence of such a DJ. I know it's not the Jan Wayne or Phonkillaz version, among others. Who knew there were so many techno remakes/remixes of this schmaltzy, uh, classic?

Humppa!

You've been craving it your whole life without even realizing it: Finnish polka/oopmah (humppa, to those with Finnish leanings) covers of the hits of yesterday and today. And, lemme tell you, Erkelaiset will give them to you in spades. It's just up to you to rifle through their immense catalogue and listen to the songs repeatedly in order to try to discern what's what. (A procedure I've still not completed. You'd be surprised how difficult it can be to suss out even the most familiar tunes when rendered in a foreign language by an oompah band who changes all of the titles to incorporate the word "humppa.")

As one who's only familiar with Latin-based languages and, of course, English, I have no idea whether the lyrics come even close to proper translations of the songs. I'm guessing not due to the aforementioned humppa in each title. Perhaps some of the Scandinavian readers (I know you're out there, I check my stats) can shed some light on the situation. Until then, this is all we have to go on:

Elakelaiset "Humppa (Zombie)" (Finnish Cranberries cover)

Elakelaiset "Humpatarzan (Monkey Wrench)" (Finnish Foo Fighters cover)

Elakelaiset "Heil Humppa! (Kids in America)" (Finnish Kim Wilde cover)

Somewhere in the crowd there's you.

I was going to host a copy of Salma & Sabina singing Abba's "Super Trouper" because,
along with Shaun Cassidy's Born Late and Pat Benatar's Precious Time, Abba's Super Trouper was one of the first albums I actually paid for as a child and listened to repeatedly. That explains a lot about my eclectic and often questionable taste in music, doesn't it? I digress. Anyhow. Abba is one of the most-covered acts out there (not to mention worshipped by a the slew of tribute bands that exist), presumably because they were brilliantly sentimental dance-pop craftsmenpeople.

Anyhow, luckily, I just remembered that this track (as well as the other Abba songs Salma & Sabina have done) is already featured on April Winchell's awesome multimedia page, along with many other bizarre delights, covers and otherwise. Get thee over there!

This strange little piece of outsider audio comes from the 1981 album, Salma & Sabina Sing Abba in Hindi. Scroll down to the April 3 post over at the 365 Days Project to read an excerpt from the cassette cover, as well as to take a gander at these lovely ladies in their convertible.

And stay tuned, I'll be posting other odd foreign stuff a little later today.

Edit: Winchell's site appears to be down temporarily, sorry about that. It was working fine when I wrote this post. I'd say check back later today or tomorrow to see if it's up.

Feeling so frustrated, even antiquated, 'cause you can't update me.

Many thanks to reader DK who turned me onto this downloadable cover album. (The page's intro says the tracks are no longer downloadable, but I didn't have a problem getting them.) I already had about half of the tracks featured there, but I didn't know from whence they came. Embarrassingly, one of the bands featured is my good friend Jason's (I once posted a song of his) band, The Danglers, so I feel as if I should've already been in the know about it. Likewise, former Zero Hour artist The Multiple Cat is there as well. Eh, what can you do?

Unrelated: VH1 Classics is my heroin. I never in a million years expected to see TMBG's "She Was a Hotel Detective" while randomly flipping channels. Likewise, earlier today I was stunned into silence by the horror of Rod Stewart's "Infatuation." Ah, I miss the days when stalking was cool. And don't even get me started on John Mellencamp's hair in "Cherry Bomb." Cover-related: I still see tracers from Three Dog Night's "Try a Little Tenderness" video. Yep. Heroin. Damn, a Ned's Atomic Dustbin video that's not "Grey Cell Green"? I, uh, gotta go.

I guess you're wondering how I knew.

Admittedly, thanks to my lousy slow computer, I'm a bit behind on my MP3 blog reading. Therefore, I missed Loki posting this classic punk cover by the Slits that, I swear, I was a day or two away from posting myself.

Similarly, Chris over at Fluxblog has posted a few new (Kate Bush and Outkast) covers here.

This ain't a song for the brokenhearted.

Welcome to all the new Rochester, NY, readers. I hope you enjoy your stay.

Ida "Everybody Knows This is Nowhere" (Neil Young cover)
Ida is one of my favorite bands and they have some of my favorite covers, so choosing which to use was difficult, but I was in a kinda country mood—well, until I stumbled on the last two tracks, anyhow—so this track won out. It's light and airy and folksy and pretty and, well, just plain Ida-esque.

Kelly Hogan & John Wesley Harding "I'm a Little Bit Country, I'm a Little Bit Rock 'n' Roll" (Donnie & Marie Osmond cover)
A perfect song choice from two decidedly more rocky of our alt-country/alt-folk superstars. JWH has been a long-time favorite of mine, and not solely because a few of his albums were released by Zero Hour, a former obsession I detail here. Actually, I think I first stumbled on JWH and his Billy Bragg-esque wit, cynicism and folkishness, via his track, "When the Beatles Hit America," which was on one of the Just Say ... comps back in the day. Kelly Hogan, on the other hand, despite being known to me for years, is someone whose oeuvre I'm just beginning to explore and enjoy. Her voice is that awesome combination of power and subtlety and Southern twang that makes me wish I'd been born to a musical family in Georgia. And if I ever want to meet her, rumor has it I can swing by the Hideout and watch her play or pay her for whiskey. Accessible artists rule.

This you-really-can't-do-much-with-a-song-like-this-but-it's-fun track comes from one of the three all-cover compilations released by Chicago's own Pravda Records, 20 More Explosive Fantastic Rockin' Mega Smash Hit Explosions! These comps mostly feature Chicago-area artists rehashing old K-Tel radio hits and is, as most all-cover comps are, full of hits and misses.

Pastel Vespa "Living on a Prayer" (Bon Jovi cover)
This is where the country ends. Brazilian-born (but currently living in Australia) chanteuse Pastel Vespa (her real name, it appears), is my new hero. I've long been waiting for the day in which I'd hear a Bon Jovi song rendered in an immensely listenable fashion. (Don't get me wrong, I was a big Bon Jovi fan back in the day, but most modern covers of their work are unbearable.) If you liked the Nouvelle Vague track a few entries ago and/or any of the loungey Japanese tracks I seem particularly obsessed with, this is for you.

Boy Division "It's My Life" (Bon Jovi cover)
My friend Matt and I have had a few discussions about forming a band that solely performs covers but that isn't your standard cover band. You know, we'd just be a band who happens to sing other people's songs but is so innovative and experimental that we'd make each song our own. A lofty goal, to be sure, but one that apparently others have had. Yes, Germany's own Boy Division has beaten us to the punch. Fortunately, a quick sampling of their covers lends me to believe that they weren't as interested in making each cover sound different from one another, but it's all, um, interesting to say the least. Like what you here? Check out a few of their other covers here.

The next post will have a song, I promise.

Trust me, I don't want drama to be a regular part of this blog (I have a Live Journal for that kind of shit, thank you very much), but it appears some people are baffled by what is my apparent hypocrisy. Yes, I suppose it's bad karma for me to post songs without a copyright holder's consent and that I subsequently somehow cosmically deserve it when people hotlink directly to my files. Whatever. What bugs me most about discovering that fellow bloggers are hotlinking to my files is the fact that bloggers in particular should know the amount of time and effort it takes to find these and write about them. And I'd like an accurate as possible count of how many people are visiting and/or are downloading files. And while I'm not some wide-eyed, naive, hippy type, it still just seems rude to me to do purposely do something you know bothers someone else. Sigh. Maybe it's old-fashioned to be polite and expect people to return the favor, and maybe I'm somehow uncool because of it, but I don't care. It's what I think. But, until I figure out how, I can't stop anyone from doing it. So, go ahead, if you're happy being that sort of person.

It ain't what you do, it's the way that you do it.

Perhaps this makes me seem uptight, which is fine since I often am, but I think it's in poor taste when other sites or bloggers link directly to my music files. So, yeah, I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't do that. A hyperlink to the specific entry takes the same amount of time to create and it brings people to my blog, which last time I checked, was the purpose of my creating it. I'd offer you the same courtesy.

It couldn't be me and be her in between without you.

If the covers I posted earlier aren't enough for you, Stereogum has some live covers here, as well as the John Eddie cover of the Cure that's in the sidebar and which is from one of the first all-cover various artist compilations CDs I ever bought, Elektra's now out-of-print 40th Anniversary Rubaiyat.

I'm a song written by the hands of God.

The following tracks come from a mostly charming little Irish benefit compilation called Even Better than the Real Thing, Vol. 1, which was put out by an Irish radio station and which is apparently still on the charts there. A lot of it reminds me of that Luka Bloom cover of LL Cool J's "I Need Love" in the early '90s. Maybe all Irish acts perform covers the same way. Maybe not. Either way, it's still better than the millions of god-awful hardcore or nu-metal tribute albums out there. If you feel you must have it—and are willing, if you're not in Ireland, to pay import prices—you can still find it at places like this. Volume 2 is forthcoming.

Maria Doyle-Kennedy (actress, ex Hothouse Flowers, ex Commitments, etc.) "How You Remind Me" (Nickelback cover)
One of the greatest pleasures in what I refer to as my "sickness," is the discovery of a song I completely hate performed in such a way that I reconsider and come to decide that it's not so much the song that's awful, but it's the band who wrote/originally performed it that I truly despise. Conversely, one of the greatest pains related to my cover addiction is that, once I've finished listening to the intriguing cover a few times and go on my merry way about my day, it is not the cool new cover that gets trapped in my head. Instead, it's the horrifying original and next thing you know, my co-workers, friends and family are subjected to repeated Nickelback impressions as I attempt to release the demon from my brain. This is how I remind me of who I really am.

Roesy "Breathe" (Blu Cantrell & Sean Paul cover)
Okay, I admit it—and I don't even know if this makes me cool or lame, since I'm practically dancehall illiterate—I like Sean Paul. And though this Blu Cantrell track would've probably had less of an impact on me had he not been involved, it's okay enough. Certainly more listenable to me than her gold-digger anthem, "Hit 'em Up Style." Roesy is, admittedly, new to me and I'm thinking I like what he's done. I've been ignoring a lot of modern Nick Drake-influenced artists lately, but this guy has such an interesting timbre to his voice that I'm very interested in checking out his latest album Only Love is real very soon. And he paints too.

Kieran Goss "Underneath Your Clothes" (Shakira cover)
Irish country/folk artist Kieran Goss is apparently fucking huge in his native land, and, until now, I'd never heard of him. Sigh. I'm so American. As for Shakira, I must admit I remained intrigued with her (and her hypnotizing ass shaking) even when she flicked her switch from Spanish angry-girl alt folk rock to English dance pop. Most likely because it's not often that English-language dance pop has lyrics like "lucky my breasts are small and humble so you don't confuse them with mountains." [See and hear the track below.] After listening to this halfway decent cover, however, I always get the Indigo Girls' "Closer to Fine" stuck in my head. Seriously, do their intros sound exactly alike or am I going crazy?

Mundy "Wherever Whenever" (Shakira cover)
Can't get enough Shakira covers? Neither can I or Irish folk stars, it would seem. I once took a Mundy promo home from work, gave it a listen, and promptly dubbed it borecore. I'm not sure my stance has changed, but I do enjoy a nice foreign mope singing about the aforementioned small breasts. Scarily enough, Mundy (I think) also recorded a poppier version of this song that I found whose lyrics were altered so they were about, presumably, football (read: soccer). Um. That's just weird.

Uh oh, we're in trouble.

Nouvelle Vague "Too Drunk to Fuck" (Dead Kennedys cover)
Very similar to the Dominique A track I posted here and not unlike the LB track I posted here, this French bossa-lounge cover of a "new wave" (as the band's name would suggest) hit comes from an all bossa-lounge/new wave cover album by French supergroup (okay, I don't know if that's true) Nouvelle Vague that apparently sees its US release next week. It's pretty cool stuff.

Carter the Unstoppable Sex Machine "Trouble" (Shampoo cover)
In the History of Music As My Subconscious Sees It, Carter USM has the role of an extra only visible 20 seconds. You know, they're buried somewhere deep inside the Ned's Atomic Dustbin in my mind. And while no one was looking, they managed to remain together for nearly a decade releasing MOR album after MOR album of, uh, rocky-but-dancey crap. Shampoo, on the other hand, has at least two full minutes on my mind's screen. Anytime a punk-looking-but-bubblegum-sounding girl-fronted group (you know, your Alisha's Attics, K's Choices, Murmurs, Letters to Cleos and the like) comes around, I find myself at least temporarily mesmerized while trying to figure out what's going on and whether or not I like it. I mean, innocuous pop can have its place even when sung by purple-haired girls in babydoll dresses and striped tights, right? Maybe. Trash pop, I believe it's called. Anyhow, this is about all you can expect from a mashing of mediocre rock with mediocre pop. But if you like mediocrity and kitch for kitsch's sake, as I often do, this is the track to download.

U Penn Off the Beat "Be My Lover" (La Bouche cover)
Oh, collegiate acappella groups ... how you frighten me with some of your selections. I find I often have this La Bouche song annoyingly running through my head randomly throughout the day (along with that total jam by the solo Sporty Spice) thanks to the fact that I see commercials for Fired Up! constantly on late-night TV. The past few days, it's been this version instead, which includes its ultra-geeky little homage d'Boyz II Men toward the end. Heh. Whatever, you crazy coeds! I might not appreciate your work fully, but who am I to judge? At least you're not spending your weekends giving strangers head in the laundry rooms of frat houses.

I'm slipping under.

I recently stumbled on a pretty cover of Britney Spears' "Toxic" that I quite enjoyed. The artist's name is Michael Gum, and from what I can tell via a quick Google search, he's someone who posts a lot over on Songfight. Also, he has set up a Live Journal to share his music. Go here to download his covers, including the aforementioned Spears classic. Heh. "Classic."