Remember how I wrote that thing last week, and you were all really nice to me? I sincerely appreciate it. Now let's restore some balance to this relationship.
Cover songs are a contentious thing. Kind of like when the cartoons from your childhood get remade into terrible movies. The only difference being that, on occasion, people who complain about a song being turned into something terrible have a good point, whereas those cartoons have always been dumb, but we were too young and naive to realize it.
Songs tend to age a little better than animated shows about action figures, though, so in a lot of cases, remaking them seems completely unnecessary. If you can't do it better, why do it at all? Well, sometimes those covers are better, for a whole host of reasons. We talk about a few cover songs that outdid the originals on this week's Unpopular Opinion podcast ...
... where I'm joined by my Cracked coworkers Alex Schmidt and Randall Maynard. That's also what I'm talking about in this column today. Who would have seen that coming?
If this premise seems oddly familiar, that's because it was already written once by my friend, coworker, and favorite science fiction writer, Robert Brockway. In his version, he made it a point to not be especially negative or derogatory toward the original versions of the songs. He explained that it's not that the cover versions are better; it's just that they have some intangible quality that makes them sound more appropriate in the hands of another performer. If you've read literally anything I've ever written, you know this is going to be a challenge for me. I'm kind of an asshole. Nevertheless, let's get to it!
5Ryan Adams, "Wonderwall" (Oasis Cover)
See, this isn't that bad so far, is it? Unless you're me or one of approximately 12 other people in the United States, you don't give a shit about Oasis anyway. What do you care if some Internet writer implies that another artist has assumed custody of their most famous song?
Also, I accept that almost none of that applies if you live in England, where Oasis was a dream that lived on well into the 2000s. They were huge before "Wonderwall" over there, if you can imagine such a thing.
Now, please remember that I'm definitely not saying this is a bad song. It's a great song! It's not my favo(u)rite Oasis song (that would be "Slide Away," in case you're wondering, which you're not), but it's great nonetheless. It even has the distinction of being one of those rare tunes that people are sometimes accused of stealing from Oasis. In fact I'm certain it's the only song anyone ever steals from Oasis, seeing as how every other Oasis song sounds exactly like a song someone else wrote in the '60s.
As great as the original version of "Wonderwall" may be, Liam Gallagher isn't the best at conveying the emotion behind a song, even though he's a perfectly decent singer. Unless it's outright anger or anything else that might warrant the use of the word "coont," he's never gone out of his way to sound like anything more than Liam Gallagher singing lyrics written by his brother. While that's exploited and used to great effect on a lot of their better songs, it just makes "Wonderwall" sound needlessly ambiguous. Is he happy? Is he sad? Did the girl screw him over? Did he screw her over? What the motherfuck is a "Wonderwall" anyway?
It's a George Harrison album!
With the exception of that last one, the Ryan Adams version answers all of those questions. He's sad, he's fucked up, he's in need of saving ... it's all really clear from the moment the song starts. Sure, the lyrics mostly still make zero sense, but at least the clues we have to work with this time around are a bit more definitive.
I'm not the only one who thinks it's an improvement on the original. Noel Gallagher, who actually wrote "Wonderwall," told Spin Magazine that he's always felt the original was "too fast or too slow" and that Adams is "the only person who got that song right." He even took to performing a stripped-down version of the song in concert that he acknowledged was based heavily on the cover.
Okay, now everyone go back to not caring about Oasis! We have a slightly more controversial pick to discuss.
4Alex Chilton, "Jumpin' Jack Flash" (Rolling Stones Cover)
Easy! Take it easy! I know this is upsetting. The Rolling Stones are one of the most beloved bands in the history of the world, and "Jumpin' Jack Flash" is one of their most enduring songs. It's been covered countless times. There are movies named in its honor. It is classic. It is timeless.
It is also the product of sheer coincidence. As legend has it, the title came about when Mick Jagger was startled by the sound of a gardener walking outside past a window. He asked Keith what the ruckus was all about and was told, presumably in an almost indecipherable mumble, "Oh, that's Jack -- Jumpin' Jack."
So, that's stupid. I mean, it's a cute story, but the rest, apparently, is just that the lyrics "evolved from there." At certain points, Mick Jagger has hinted that the song is about "coming out of all that acid stuff." In other words, no one has any fucking clue.
Fiona Goodall/Getty Images Entertainment/Getty Images
"Who's asking questions and what for????"
That's fine, though! Sometimes that's all great songs are -- just words and music that sound good together for no discernible reason and with no clear message or intent. Like "Smells Like Teen Spirit" by Nirvana, for example. The lyrics are gibberish and the title only happened because Kurt Cobain mistook the name of a deodorant brand as something profound. But since it has the word "teen" in its name and the quiet-loud-quiet dynamic makes it sound kind of angst-y, it became the national anthem for mopey motherfuckers the world over.
Again, that's fine. When you leave a song so open for interpretation, you run the risk of people taking it in directions you never intended. I'm sure your hippy parents ascribed some kind of bigger meaning to "Jumpin' Jack Flash" at the time of its release, just as I am sure that they forgot all about what that meaning might have been the second they abandoned their dreams and ideals in favor of earning enough money to buy you an Atari, you spoiled, 30-something jerk.
What all that means, though, is that we get to interpret songs like "Jumpin' Jack Flash" however the hell we want. Call me crazy, but something about the song -- perhaps the fact that it's sung completely in first person -- makes it feel like a guy telling us his story. He shares a name with the song, after all.
When I listen to the Rolling Stones version, as fantastic as it is, I can't see that guy. I can't picture what he looks like in my head. Yes, it sounds like he had it rough at some point, but that song is also upbeat as all get out. There's a piano and backing vocals and it all sounds like a hell of a lot of fun, but when I picture what's happening in my head, all I see is Mick Jagger singing in front of his band.
The Alex Chilton version, on the other hand, sounds way more like a dude sharing his backstory. It's stripped down. It sounds dark. It sounds confessional. I can see the subject of that song in my head, and he's not wagging his finger like a schoolmarm or grinding against the leather-draped skeleton of Keith Richards while wearing velvet pants. He's seen some shit. He's tough. He's a character. He's probably wearing an Army jacket. He'll stab you in a bar fight.
He's Jumpin' Jack Flash. Whatever the fuck that means.