Tag Archives: Cover Songs

Allan Sherman: My Son, the Folk Singer

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Brilliantly silly song parodies from 1962

Allan Sherman’s gift for parody songs dates back well before his commercial success in the 1960s. As a struggling comedy writer in New York he sang parody songs at parties, and as the successful creator and producer of the television game show I’ve Got a Secret, his parodies became well-known within the industry. He even recorded a single (“Jake’s Song” b/w “A Satchel and a Seck”) – a flop – in 1951. He tried again in the mid-50s with a Jewish-humor translation of My Fair Lady (to be called “Fairfax Lady,” after the Jewish neighborhood of Los Angeles), but failing to gain the original composer’s permission, the project was shelved. It wasn’t until several years later, after a move to Los Angeles, that his continuing party appearances garnered famous fans who led him to a composer, Lou Busch, and a recording contract with Warner brothers.

Sherman recorded this debut album in 1962 in front of a hand-picked studio audience, and with their laughter supplying the rocket fuel, the album, and it’s hit single “Sarah Jackman” (to the tune of Frerer Jacques), crossed over from the borscht belt audience to nationwide acclaim. The keys to Sherman’s success are many. His lyrics are both clever and catchy, eliciting spontaneous mid-song applause and sticking memorable lines (“He was trampling through the warehouse / where the drapes of Roth are stored” sung to the tune of the “Battle Hymn of the Republic”) in the listener’s ears. His comedic timing, augmented by terrific musical accompaniment, is perfectly tuned to his intimate studio gatherings, and the seriousness of Busch’s arrangements neatly emphasizes the silliness of Sherman’s words. His humor is decidedly Jewish, even old-timey, but exalting an old-time tailor and using an accent to rhyme “fourth” with “cloth” is funny whether or not you’re of the tribe.

This initial batch of songs threads archetypical Jewish characters – overbearing families, the merchant class, dealmakers, Floridians, gossipers, kvetchers and bargain hunters – into then-familiar melodies. He sings the praises of seltzer water, and in the closing “Shticks and Stones” traipses through six minutes of brilliantly segued slices of stereotypical Jewish life, including business problems, hospital bills, kosher foods and aging. Incredibly, rooting his songs so deeply in the Jewish-American experience somehow produces humor that’s universally funny and nearly fifty years later, Sherman’s humor and craft stand on their own, entertaining to even those who don’t know the original tunes. Collectors’ Choice straight-up reissue includes new liner notes by Dr. Demento. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

Judy Collins: True Stories and Other Dreams

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Judy Collins finds her voice as a songwriter

Ironically, given Collins’ brilliant singing voice, she took more than a decade to find her voice as a songwriter. She’d dabbled with an original song or two on earlier albums, but for this 1973 release she wrote over half the album’s tracks, selected “So Begins the Task” from the catalog of her former paramour Stephen Stills, and opened with Valerie Carter’s intimate and homey “Cook With Honey.” The years that she’d been carefully selecting and sympathetically interpreting others’ material paid off in the imagination of her pen. She paints a colorful portrait of Long Island fishermen, shares wistful memories of her grandparents, and offers an admiring observations of her younger sister. Collins’ rendition of Tom Paxton’s “The Hostage” seethes with the prison guard narrator’s indictment of Governor Rockefeller’s handling of the 1971 Attica riot, and a pair of requiems, one for a friend who committed suicide, the second for the slain revolutionary “Che” close the album on somber and deifying notes. Musically, Collins consolidates the variety of sounds she’d explored up to this point in her career, including straight folk, country-rock and orchestrated pop; but unlike her previous studio album, 1970’s Whales & Nightingales, this one flows smoothly and creates a pleasant album experience. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

Judy Collins: Whales & Nightingales

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Judy Collins embraces the 1970s

After breaking from straight folk with 1968’s In My Life, Collins continued to explore new sounds and song sources. This, her first album of the 1970s, masterfully mixes disparate material from contemporary folkies Dylan, Baez and Seeger, an Irish nationalist ballad, an Aaron Kramer poem set to music by her keyboardist Michael Sahl, a double-dip into the catalog of Jacques Brel, a two-part original, and several original arrangements of traditional tunes. It’s a more idiosyncratic collection than her earlier albums, heightened by varied recording locations that each provides a unique sonic ambiance. The result isn’t always cohesive from song to song, but Collins voice is so singularly beautiful, and her talent for interpretation so strong, that the individual pieces merit listening. The opening trio of songs, “A Song for David,” “Sons of” and “The Patriot Game,” meditate on different aspects of war: those whose principles lead them away from the fight, those who soldier on for the good cause, and those who die. Her vocal on Seeger’s “Oh, Had I A Golden Thread” soars with gospel emotion above its country-tinged piano, bass and guitar backing, and humpback whale and ocean sounds provide then-contemporary backing for the traditional whaling song “Farewell to Tarwathie.” “Simple Gifts,” a nineteenth century Shaker hymn, and a Top-20 a cappella take on “Amazing Grace” bring Collins back to simpler arrangements that revel in the soul of the human voice. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

Frank Sinatra: September of My Years

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A reflective Sinatra records his last perfect solo album

Frank Sinatra was hitting yet another career peak as the British Invasion stormed the popular music charts in the mid-60s. But such was his artistic force that the period saw the Chairman’s continued success on both the album and singles charts, successfully battling the storm unleashed by the Beatles and their compatriots. In 1965, with his 50th birthday looming, Sinatra took stock at mid-life and recorded thirteen songs with arranger Gordon Jenkins. Their choices delicately balanced a nostalgic look at the successes of youth, poignant thoughts on the limitations brought on by age, and optimistic visions of what time was still left to live. Sinatra had never before sounded this personally vulnerable, and the realization of his own mortality comes across like a genuine first thought.

The swagger of Sinatra’s recent swing albums gave way in this set to the sort of melancholy he’d explored with Jenkins on 1957’s brilliant Where Are You? and 1959’s No One Cares. Though Nelson Riddle is usually hailed as Sinatra’s most sympathetic arranger, Jenkins’ charts, both in 1957 and in 1965, winningly back Sinatra with lush strings that frame the singer exquisitely. In the thirty years since Sinatra broke into music as a boy singer, he’d proved himself America’s greatest interpretive vocalist, and now, in the approach to his golden years, he firmly established himself as the elder statesman of pop music. He’d record some good albums throughout the rest of the 1960s, but never again would he make such an arresting, innovative and deeply personal artistic statement.

The songs he picked for this album don’t fight the notion of aging, but neither do they succumb to its frailties. The title track, recorded five weeks after the rest of the album, opens the set with the stark realization of passing years, but “How Old Am I” opts to see the changes of age as maturity rather than weaknesses, and exults the power of love to keep one vital. Sinatra and Jenkins gathered “top of your game songs” and performed them with a presence and knowingness that was, particularly among Sinatra’s rich catalog of stellar recordings, astounding. Sinatra’s empty nest – his three children were grown and he was currently single – is heard in Jimmy Van Heusen and Sammy Cahn’s “It Gets Lonely Early,” but even here the lyric is both happily nostalgic and optimistically forward looking.

Sinatra was no stranger to thematic albums, but never before, and never after, would the theme connect so closely to his circumstance or the emotion spring from so deep in his heart. Recorded in only three sessions spread over eight days, September of My Years won the 1966 Grammy award for album of the year, and Sinatra won an individual Grammy for best male vocal performance for “It Was a Very Good Year.” Jenkins won for his brilliant arrangement of the same song, and Stan Cornyn (who returns to this reissue with new liner notes) won a Grammy for his original album notes (which themselves are reproduced in the booklet). Concord’s 2010 reissue adds two bonus tracks to the original baker’s dozen: a 1984 live recording of “This is All I Ask” and an alternate version of “How Old Am I?” released as a single. With or without the bonuses, this is one of a half-dozen essentials in any Sinatra fan’s collection. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

Judy Collins: In My Life

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One of folk music’s greatest voices expands her horizons in 1966

After five folk albums, culminating in the superb Fifth Album in 1965, Judy Collins sought personal growth as an artist and broader synergy with the musical scenes developing around her. She’d already branched out from the traditional material of 1961’s A Maid of Constant Sorrow and 1962’s Golden Apples of the Sun (available as a two-fer) to contemporary material penned by Dylan, Seeger, Paxton, Ochs and Farina, but she’d kept to a traditional acoustic guitar and string bass approach. With this 1966 release she stretched even further for new material, adding pop songs and show tunes, while still championing newly emerging talents that included Leonard Cohen, Randy Newman and Donovan. She once again proved herself a unique interpreter of Dylan, singing the melody of “Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues” with ease rather than haggard exhalation. Similarly, on “Suzanne” her voice adds delicacy and range that were beyond Cohen’s instrument, and gave the poet his break as a songwriter.

The arrangements push past the minimalism of her earlier albums with Joshua Rifkin-penned chamber-pop arrangements that add strings, woodwinds, percussion and harpsichord. This suits both the range of material as well as the moods Collins evokes as she extrapolates her interpretation into acting. Her readings of Brecht and Weill’s “Pirate Jenny” and Peaslee’s “Marat/Sade” are pitched to reach the last row and befit their stage origins, and Rifkin’s arrangement of guitar and violin provides dramatic backing for Jacques Brel’s dire “La Colombe.” Harp, bells and waltz time whirl Donovan’s “Sunny Goodge Street” nearly into carousel music, and now in retrospect, the closing cover of “In My Life” provides a bittersweet tribute to its author. Collectors’ Choice’s 2010 release is a straight-up reissue of the album’s original eleven tracks, with new liner notes by Richie Unterberger. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

Jerry Lee Lewis: The Essential Sun Country Hits

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The Killer’s original country sides for Sun

Few remember that Jerry Lee Lewis’ first recording for Sun was a 1956 cover of Ray Price’s classic, “Crazy Arms.” Lewis’ country roots were largely overshadowed by the string of incendiary rock ‘n’ roll sides he recorded in the late 50s, and all but buried by the scandal that derailed his career in 1958. It wasn’t until the mid-60s, at Smash Records, that Lewis once again found sustained commercial success, but this time on the country chart as a balladeer. His renewed popularity led then-Sun owner Shelby Singleton to dig up earlier unreleased country sides, including three from Lewis’ last Sun session in 1963, and release them as singles. Varese’s fourteen-track collection pulls together three sides released at the time of Lewis’ tenure with Sun, eight sides first released by Singleton between 1969 and 1972, and three sides that went unreleased as singles, but have turned up on various compilations over the years. Tht titles include several top-10s, 20s and 40s, but more interestingly, it shows that Sun had tried Lewis out on the country chart with a 1958 cover of Charlie Rich’s “I’ll Make it All Up to You” and used “It Hurt Me So” as a B-side. Lewis’ success at Smash comes as no surprise once you’ve heard these tracks he waxed at Sun in the late 50s and early 60s. He’s a talented and nuanced country singer and honky-tonk pianist whose love of Jimmie Rodgers and Hank Williams is born out in covers of the former’s “Waiting for a Train” and the latter’s “I Could Never Be Ashamed of You.” What does remain surprising is how easily he dropped his outsized rock ‘n’ roll persona to sing these more intimate songs of woe.  To complete the picture of Lewis’ country career you’ll need to pick up a collection of his Smash hits, such as Killer Country, but the roots were clearly planted with these efforts at Sun. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

The Clefs of Lavender Hill: Stop! Get a Ticket

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Long-lost stereo LP from obscure Florida ‘60s rock/folk-rock band

The Clefs of Lavender Hill are an obscure mid-60s Florida four-piece built around the brother and sister guitar/vocal team of Travis and Coventry Fairchild (born Joseph and Lorraine Ximenes) and the rhythm section of Bill (bass) and Fred (drums) Moss. The B-side of their first single, “Stop! Get a Ticket,” has long been a favorite of the garage-folk crowd, having appeared on the box set reissue of Nuggets, as well as Rock Artifacts 3. Little was known about the band, though singles collectors managed to document four singles released on Date records between 1965 and 1967. Rumors persisted about a full album that had been shelved after recording in 1966, and now forty-four years later, Wounded Bird has unearthed the eleven album tracks in terrific full-fidelity stereo, as well as a non-LP single and two additional mixes (one stereo, one mono) of “Stop! Get a Ticket.” Whew!

The band’s rock ‘n’ roll roots were stoked by the British Invasion, evident not only in covers of the Beatles (“It Won’t Be Long”), Rolling Stones (“Play With Fire”), Donovan (“Sunshine Superman”), but also in the Zombies-styled original “One More Time.” The group conjured a folk-rock sound on “You Don’t Notice” and “First Tell Me Why” that nodded to the harmonies of San Francisco’s Autumn Records and Jefferson Airplane. The Fairchild’s originals are excellent, and their dramatic take on “Play with Fire,” with Coventry Fairchild singing lead, is even more seething than the Stones’ original; their cover of “New Orleans” amplifies the party vibe of Gary U.S. Bonds’ hit with dynamic bass and drums and a hot guitar substituting for the original’s sax.

This is a terrific find that greatly expands on the band’s one well-anthologized track and four difficult-to-find 45s. The four-panel booklet includes vintage photos but – incredibly – no liner notes. Given the band’s obscurity, Wounded Bird should have stepped up and hired someone to write at least a cursory band biography, if not track down the members for contemporary interviews. The original mono mixes of the band’s four singles would have been a nice addition to the stereo album tracks, but it’s hard to complain too loudly given the quality of the album masters. What’s here is truly great, but what could have been here would have (and should have) been definitive. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

Judy Collins: Fifth Album

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Judy Collins peaks as a folk singer

By the time Judy Collins recorded this album in 1965, the traditional strains of the folk revival were losing steam. That same year Dylan released a side of electric tunes on Bringing it All Back Home and plugged in for his set at Newport. The Byrds released their debut album in June, and Simon and Garfunkel’s 1964 acoustic debut album begat the electric augmentation of Sounds of Silence two years later. Collins herself rethought her own music on 1966’s In My Life, but before doing so, pulled together the elements made her a great folk singer, and invested her ears and interpretive powers in selecting and rendering these twelve songs. She combined traditional tunes with contemporary compositions by Dylan, Ochs, and Farina, and gave each the benefit of her magnificently clear and moving voice. Collins’ talent for discovering material led her to Eric Anderson’s “Thirsty Boots” (with John Sebastian adding harmonica) and Gordon Lightfoot’s “Early Morning Rain,” long before either became folk standards.

The album opens on a high note with a terrific interpretation of Richard Farina’s “Pack Up Your Sorrows.” Farina’s dulcimer is more upbeat than on the original duet with his wife Mimi, and together with second guitarist Eric Weissberg, Collins frees the song of its overt sorrow by leaning on the lyrics’ magnanimity. She proves her talent for interpretation by taking Dylan’s “Tomorrow is a Long Time” slowly, holding onto the notes with desire and longing, and she sings all four verses of “Mr. Tambourine Man” to an arrangement that replaces the electric guitar of Dylan’s original with Bill Lee’s acoustic bass. Her vocal captures both the overnight weariness of Dylan and the early morning wonder of McGuinn, creating a unique interpretation that stands tall among the many versions cut in 1965. Similarly, she brings a powerful feeling of solemnity and desolation to Billy Edd Wheeler’s “The Coming of the Roads,” giving voice to the emotional and environmental devastation of the song’s lyrics.

The baroque sounds Collins would explore on the following year’s In My Life are foreshadowed by a cello backing on the traditional “Lord Gregory,” and guitars and acoustic bass are joined by Jerry Dodgion’s flute for a live recording of Malvina Reynolds’ rousing “It Isn’t Nice.” Richard Farina’s dulcimer provides quiet accompaniment for Gil Turner’s civil rights anthem “Carry it On,” and his original poem from the album cover is reproduced in full on the booklet’s back (bring your magnifying glass!). Collectors’ Choice’s reissue brings the original dozen tracks back into domestic print, and includes new liner notes by Richie Unterberger. This is a terrific artifact of the folk revival and a high point in Collins’ career. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

Eilen Jewell: Butcher Holler- A Tribute to Loretta Lynn

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Cool tribute to Loretta Lynn

On last year’s Sea of Tears [review], Eilen Jewell stepped up from folk and country sounds to electric twang. She dropped the fiddle and harmonica of her earlier releases and sang solo with a rockabilly-styled trio of guitar, bass and drums. That same trio format, with the thoroughly stellar Jerry Miller on guitar and pedal steel, is employed for this terrific salute to Loretta Lynn. The band plays blue and lightly rocking across a dozen covers, melding Jewell’s jazz-tipped vocals with twang-heavy guitars and tempos that turn the ballads into sorrowful two-steppers and the rest into perfectly restrained rockers. You can hear Lynn in every track, but what you won’t hear is Jewell copying the subject of her tribute.

Jewell isn’t as feisty a singer as Lynn, which keeps “Fist City” and “You Ain’t Woman Enough (To Take My Man)” from delivering the originals’ heat. To be fair, Lynn wrote and sang these songs when such outspokenness, at least from a female country singer, delivered a shock and element of liberation that’s not available to a contemporary vocalist. Jewell’s cool approach works perfectly on the sly “You Wanna Give Me a Lift” as she brushes off an overly amorous suitor with the lyric “I’m a little bit warm, but that don’t mean I’m on fire.” For “Don’t Come Home A- Drinkin’ (With Lovin’ on Your Mind),” Jewell offers a promise of forgiveness in place of a half-cocked frying pan, and it works very nicely.

Lynn’s originals are filtered through Jewell’s influences, so while these new recordings pay homage to the hits, they’re distinct interpretations influenced by the blue emotions of Patsy Cline, Billie Holiday, Connie Francis, and the torchy styles of Big Sandy and Julie London.  Jewell sings most everything solo, doubling herself on the superbly forlorn “I’m a Honky Tonk Girl” and leaving Miller’s guitar to provide the second voice elsewhere. Miller’s steel playing on “A Man I Hardly Know” is superb, and the bouncy “You’re Looking at Country” closes the album on a convincing note: Jewell’s a bit jazz, a bit blues, a bit rockabilly and a whole lot country. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

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Flynnville Train: Redemption

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Rock-solid southern rock

This Indiana-bred country-rock band is a real throwback to the southern rock of the 1970s. The quartet is looser, wilder, harder and seemingly less-calculated than redneck-rock acts like Big & Rich and Gretchen Wilson, but they play to the same blue collar crowd. Their songs will strike a deep chord in a nation where political and business institutions seem to be at odds with the populace. The lead single, “Preachin’ to the Choir,” effectively expresses Joe Sixpack’s pent-up frustration without resorting to the divisive tropes of talking-head politics. It doesn’t pose any big solutions, but the opportunity to vent one’s frustration in a like-minded crowd, and in this case, an anthem-singing country-rock crowd, is quite cathartic.

There’s a nostalgic streak in the band’s songs, including the comforts of their childhood “Home,” and a satisfied recounting of their career in the optimistic “On Our Way.” They take you inside the legendary Tootsie’s Orchid Lounge in “33 Steps” (the title cleverly measuring the walk from the Grand Ol’ Opry) and to the track for the NASCAR-themed “Turn Left.” There’s hard-charging electric guitar twang on the upbeat tracks, but even when the band slows down for banjo, steel and mandolin additions, the bass, guitar and drums remain solid. There are songs of rowdy Saturdays (“Alright” and “Tip a Can”) and guilt-wracked Sundays (“Friend of Sinners”), love and sex. The latter, “Scratch Me Where I’m Itchin’,” opens with a great Johnny Winter-styled riff.

In addition to the original material, the band covers the Kentucky Headhunters “The One You Love” and closes the album with a strong cover of America’s “Sandman.” The latter, originally released in 1971, is repurposed to address America’s current military crises and conflicts. The song is played more heavily than the original, including a period-invoking electric sitar solo and a stinging guitar duel. The harmonies are sung with the power and stridency of CSN&Y’s anti-war songs, putting a serious end to an album that’s often lighter in topic. It’s a great way to end the album, and really shows off the group’s heartland grit, heart and soul. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

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