Some Songs Considered

“Sleep All Summer” – The National and St. Vincent
(Words/music: Eric Bachmann, available on SCORE! 20 Years of Merge Records: The Covers!, Merge Records, 2009) 

The first ever second post on a single song!  Here’s what I said about the original version last October:

Sonically, it feels like these warm October afternoons, specifically in the way the guitar sounds.  The gently picked acoustic guitar sounds warm yet tempered by the wistful slide guitar lines that gently come and go.  Whenever the bright notes cut through to the forefront, the somber slide guitar swoops back in like a cool breeze.  Eric Bachmann and Lara Meyerratken’s vocals tug at these emotional strands as well. Bachman, especially when reaching for the higher notes, sounds bright especially when contrasted with Meyerratken’s even-keeled vocals.  It’s when they sing together that Bachmann and Meyerratken bring out the best in each other’s voices and channel that early autumnal warmth.  Even without listening to the words, it’s clear that these two characters sound conflicted – in this case, it’s a longing to reconnect with a lover while realizing that the spark is gone.  Lots of pop songs use the seasons as a metaphor for life, but few feel as focused on the moments of flux between seasons as “Sleep All Summer.”  It captures the feeling of summer’s last moments before fall.  Like the love between these characters, change is inevitable, for better or worse.

And even in June, I’m not going to argue with that logic.  If anything, The National’s Matt Berninger’s deeper voice sounds even more autumnal than Eric Bachmann.  Like Bachmann and Meyerratken in the original, Berninger and Annie Clark play off each other, letting their voices gently intertwine during the chorus without becoming completely inseparable.  It’s a faithful homage to the original without being redundant, largely because it’s nice to hear Berninger and Clark sing together.  Hearing it now at the beginning of the summer, I’m more drawn to the breezy tone rather than the somber story; in short, I hope my summer is full of evenings where “Sleep All Summer” would be an appropriate soundtrack.

More on The National: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

More on St. Vincent: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“The Boys are Back in Town (Live in Belfast, 2001)” – Belle and Sebastian
(Words/music: Phil Lynott, available on The BBC Sessions Bonus Disc, Matador 2008) 

The thing that always catches me off guard about “The Boys are Back in Town” is the way that Phil Lynott crammed in so many words during the verses.  I tend to think of the way the chorus just repeats the title of the song, so the longer half spoken verses sometimes sneak up on me.  Of course, Lynott tossed off these lyrics with casual grace and general coolness that made Thin Lizzy enjoyable.  This chunk of story forgives the somewhat hurried feeling to the vocals in this cover version, making the rushed feeling admirable rather than admonishing; after all, it’s impressive that he remembers all of the words and manages to keep up with the band’s somewhat raucous (at least as far as Belle and Sebastian goes) cover version. 

The band steals the spotlight here, giving the song the crowd pleasing enthusiasm it deserves.  However, it’s not just giddiness that makes this enjoyable; the band flexes some serious chops.  From the double guitar attack to the crispness of the off-beat fills, Belle and Sebastian showcase a tightness and precision that many of their early shows lacked.  All of the markings of a masterful live band – a playful tone, a precise performance, and an captivated crowd – shine here.  Even if the pairing seems unlikely (as Thin Lizzy and early Belle and Sebastian records share few sonic qualities), the marriage sounds healthy on this recording. 

More on Belle and Sebastian: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“Meet the Mets” – Yo La Tengo
(Words/music: Bill Katz and Ruth Roberts, available on Yo La Tengo is Murdering the Classics, Egon 2006) 

For baseball fans, opening day means several different things – the first true sign of spring, a renewal of hope for a new season, and the comfort of knowing that most nights there will be a baseball game to watch.  Even as my team, the New York Mets, don’t inspire an overwhelming amount of confidence this season, I’m glad to have them back as a regular part of my life for the next six months.  I’m looking forward to putting the game on the radio in the background while finishing my work or driving in the car, and maybe this team will surprise me at times.  If nothing else, at least summer is just around the corner. 

So in honor of opening day, I share Yo La Tengo’s version of the Mets’ theme song.  Yo La Tengo (who I wrote about in a baseball themed post last April as well – I’m so predictable) recorded “Meet the Mets” during one of their all-request stints in support of New Jersey’s WFMU.  Some of these covers – most of the bizarre and oddly charming ones at least – join “Meet the Mets” on the Yo La Tengo is Murdering the Classics collection.  The band members are Mets fans (and Ira Kaplan in particular knows his Mets history) and naturally turn out a faithful version of the song.  Thankfully, it’s a little sweeter than the somewhat tacky version that introduces Mets games on WFAN, and the giggles halfway through (plus the joyous declaration of “solo!”) only add to its charming and playful nature.  In a way, Yo La Tengo’s spontaneous fulfillment of a request mirrors my feelings for the upcoming season – I’m hoping the team makes it through respectably, and if not it’s probably better to laugh it off. 

More on Yo La Tengo: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“Bobby Jean” – Portastatic 
(Words/music: Bruce Springsteen, available on Autumn Was a Lark EP, Merge 2003)

Many of my favorite Bruce Springsteen songs make the world seem small.  This is strange given that his music fills stadiums on a regular basis, but many of his songs, particularly his “character” songs, feel like close up scenes that tightly frame the characters in the middle of a feature film.  Springsteen brings his characters to life with the right balance of detail and mystery, filling in the picture enough to get to know them while still leaving enough room for our imaginations to sketch in the rest.  Even on the Born in the U.S.A. album, when Springsteen’s music swelled to match the arenas he traversed, he never lost his fondness nor his respect for the characters who inhabited his songs.  It just was hard to find the intimacy at first when the drums boomed at a level appropriate for tens of thousands.

Mac MacCaughan’s take on “Bobby Jean” moved this intimacy right to the forefront.  Armed only with his acoustic guitar and a voice considerably thinner than Springsteen’s, MacCaughan’s version puts the focus onto the frayed relationship in the song.  This version amplifies the resignation in the narrator’s story, particularly in the “good luck, good bye” lyric near the end.  Where Springsteen sounds like he’s projecting the story out for us to watch on the screen, MacCaughan’s take puts the emphasis on the narrator.  While we may not know much about Bobby Jean, we know that the narrator’s sad to see her walk out of his life. 

More on Portastatic: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“Hang On to Your Ego” – Frank Black 
(Words/music: Tony Asher and Brian Wilson, available on Frank Black, 4AD / Elektra 1993) 

Maybe it’s the fatigue of a long work week setting in, but I can’t really think of a lot of Beach Boys cover songs.  Yo La Tengo fuzzed their way through the surfy “Little Honda” and Petra Haden gave “God Only Knows” a beautifully multitracked a capella treatment a few years ago, and there’s Frank Black’s cover posted above.  I’m sure there’s more, and I’m sure you can point me in their direction.  There’s plenty of love and respect for the Beach Boys out there, but not a lot of cover songs it seems.  I wonder if this comes from a respect for the recordings just as much as the songs.  Perhaps the vocal harmonies seem daunting, and an attempt to perform the song might not feel right without the expanded instrumentation.  

Perhaps Black’s choice of song – a slightly obscure one – makes this cover more effective than others.  “Hang On to Your Ego” became Pet Sounds’  “I Know There’s an Answer” after a lyric change to scrub the song of any potential references to Brian Wilson’s experiments with hallucinogens.  Frank Black’s version hums along with pulsating synthesizers and breaks only for his distorted guitar.  The heavier instrumentation gives the song a little bite and Black’s general tone even gives the song this strange diabolical feeling – one appropriate for a song that hits at losing one’s mind.  Regardless, Black’s cover works for me, and it might be because I’m more familiar with the Beach Boys’ “I Know There’s an Answer.”  In a way, Black grabbed onto a Beach Boys song that wasn’t already tied up in their mythology, sensing enough room for his interpretation to exist.

More on Frank Black: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“Landslide” – Smashing Pumpkins 
(Words/music: Stevie Nicks, available on Pisces Iscariot, Virgin 1994)  

I have very fond memories of hearing Billy Corgan’s cover of “Landslide” on the radio in the 1990s.  It was the sole reason I borrowed my brother’s copy of Pisces Iscariot and the only reason I rescued a copy of it from a used CD bin a few years ago.  Thinking back at the kind of Smashing Pumpkins songs I liked then (the guitar heavy ones – “Cherub Rock,” “Zero,” etc) and the ones I disliked (I actively hated “Disarm” for a long time and I’m not entirely sure why – now I’m generally indifferent to it) and “Landslide” seems like an unlikely love.  It’s just as unlikely that a band with so many singles (and so many popular singles too) had such a non-characteristic rarity given semi-regular radio play.  

Ultimately, it’s Corgan’s arresting performance of the song that gives it its magic.  Paired only with an acoustic guitar, Corgan leaves himself exposed in the arrangement.  His nasaly voice, usually wrapped in some pedal-enhanced guitar, somehow works on its own.  Perhaps it’s the way he bends some of his notes, or maybe it’s just that he’s hitting the notes in his range that best suit him, but his voice leaves me captivated every time.  His guitar work is simple yet skillful; Corgan was an underrated guitarist, and “Landslide” shows him as one with more range than I often associate with him.  His overdubbed solo fits in perfectly, blending with his fingerpicking and easing out before his vocals return.  Even if it’s a polar opposite from the Pumpkins songs I generally prefer –the louder, knottier ones - it remains one of my favorites, undoubtedly due to its surprising charm.

More on Smashing Pumpkins: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“Redemption Song” – Johnny Cash and Joe Strummer
(Words/music: Bob Marley, available on Cash Unearthed, American / Universal 2003)

I spent four years in college yet never went through a Bob Marley phase.  My instinct is to say that I got enough of it second hand, but after thinking about it for a minute I’d say that it was repeated plays of the same Marley tunes that burned me out on his music.  I could only hear “Get Up, Stand Up” and “I Shot the Sheriff” so many times before a quick upward strum on a guitar would cause me to retreat.  The positive side effect to this combination of burnout and stubbornness means that occasionally I get to make small discoveries in Marley’s cannon.  The first one, the one that made me rethink my distaste, was “Redemption Song.”  Sure, it partially has to do with the different instrumentation, but it was Marley’s careful weaving of his personal spirituality and politics of liberation that made the song speak to me.  At other moments, Marley leans heavily on one (or both) of these polarizing ideas, but on “Redemption Song” he strikes a balance where it’s easier to see the beauty of his convictions without getting caught up in the polarizing details. 

The first version of “Redemption Song” I truly loved was on Joe Strummer’s posthumous Streetcore album.  In particular, I loved all of the extra touches – the guitar flourishes, the organ chords – that accompanied Strummer’s voice.  Later on, I heard this duet version – the same instrumental track only with Strummer and Johnny Cash trading verses.  Neither man saw the release of this track (Cash Unearthed came out shortly after his death), and I’m not even sure if Cash and Strummer recorded the song together or whether Cash added his vocals afterward (if you know, I’d love to know).  All of this leads me to the most interesting bit of trivia (remember, I’m a Marley lightweight, so this didn’t seem obvious to me) that Marley wrote and recorded “Redemption Song” after his cancer diagnosis.  All three of these men sang this song near the end of their lives (granted, for three different reasons – Marley’s illness, Strummer’s sudden heart attack, and Cash’s slowly declining health), and I’d like to think that this song brought them all peace as they neared the end of their time on Earth.  If nothing else, all three – Marley’s original, Strummer’s version, and the version Cash augments – left beautiful interpretations for us to remember them fondly. 

More on Johnny Cash: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“Dirty Old Town” - Ted Leo
(Words/music: Ewan MacColl, appears on “Tell Balgeary, Balgury is Dead” EP, Lookout! 2003)

(In honor of the new Ted Leo and the Pharmacists album The Brutalist Bricks, I’d like to re-run the story of when I first met Ted Leo in February 2003.  This post originally ran on January 7, 2009.  Back to new posts tomorrow!)

I’ve been blessed to have been involved with college radio while earning both of my degrees (first at WDOM in Providence, later at WQAQ in Connecticut), and it was (and continues to be) an important factor in my ever evolving musical taste. This post, however, isn’t my love letter to college radio (that comes with a different song) but rather a reflection of my favorite experience as a DJ.

I was fortunate enough to meet and interview Ted Leo during February 2003, right after the Hearts of Oak album came out (and right after I discovered his music). It was a surreal experience for a college sophomore to have to plan questions and interview someone who would be on Conan O’Brien later that week. From the moment that we helped Ted cart in his amplifier and guitar case (the same ones he still uses years later), it was apparent that Ted was almost as grateful to have the opportunity to appear on our modest station as we were to have him come to us. Through all sorts of stumbling blocks – our station’s faulty heater (it didn’t work a lot that winter), a less than vegan friendly cafeteria, his nagging vocal chord problems, and my nervous propensity to mix metaphors (he signed a poster with one of my quotes - “top to bottom, front to back” - my attempt to complement the body of songs on Hearts of Oak), Ted remained upbeat, enthusiastic, and completely engaging. We had Ted on for an hour or so – a mix of discussions about ska music, going to Catholic school, listening to New Order, and other topics with about half a dozen performances of songs from The Tyranny of Distance and Hearts of Oak. By the end of the afternoon, everyone in the room not only became fans of his music, but became fans of the man. In addition to his kindness and wit, Ted’s personal ethics shine through everything he does. Few contemporaries champion their causes as earnestly and completely and it seems that he has time to play on behalf of people and causes that he supports (for example, playing a benefit for a local punk rock promoter who recently passed away).

“Dirty Old Town” was the last song that Ted played that day, introducing it as a “song for the city of Providence.” I didn’t know the song (I hadn’t discovered The Pogues at that point), but I was struck by how he sang someone else’s song with the same passion and conviction that he sang his own songs. Looking back at that day nearly six years later, I have two prevailing thoughts. The first is the refreshing realization that the people that we’re fans of are fans themselves. It’s clear that Ted has a passion for music (look at the wide body of cover songs in his repertoire – in particular the obscure songs he’s playing on his recent solo tour) and that even to this day he remains a fan. Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, I’ve learned that songs don’t belong exclusively to their authors – they belong to us all. We all have our own unique memories associated with individual songs – sometimes shared, sometimes private – and that some songs immediately can immediately bring us back to a specific place or time. I’m not sure what Ted Leo thinks of when he hears Shane MacGowan sing “Dirty Old Town,” but this song will always make me think back to that afternoon in Providence where I got to interview one of my favorite musicians.

More on Ted Leo: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“Rock ‘n Roll Dreams’ll Come True” – Ted Leo
(Words: Tom Sharpling and Jon Wurster, Music: Ted Leo, recorded on WFMU 3/13/2007)

New Jersey free form station WFMU is in its annual fundraiser this week, and tonight is the marathon’s flagship event when Tom Sharpling’s The Best Show on WFMU takes to the airwaves to solicit funds to fuel the station.  I’m out of range (by a couple states) to listen to WFMU in the car, but I’ll occasionally check out the live stream on their website to enjoy their eclectic mix of shows, but generally it’s to hear The Best Show.  Sharpling, a funny man in his own right, brings in hilarious guests on a regular basis (John Hodgman and Patton Oswalt are among regulars), and when the show isn’t deep in inside jokes (or if I follow the joke, at least), it’s an entertaining bit of live radio.

Ted Leo, a friend of Sharpling (Sharpling wrote the liner notes to Leo’s new album The Brutalist Bricks), has appeared on his show several times, including playing odd requests and covers in exchange for donations to WFMU’s operating fund.  His covers range from stellar (“Brass in Pocket” and a WFMU-modified “That’s Entertainment” in 2007, Blondie’s “Union City Blue” in 2008, among others) to ridiculous (Sharpling and Leo performed Streisand & Neil Diamond’s “You Don’t Bring Me Flowers” as a duet, for instance), including “Rock ‘n Roll Dreams’ll Come True,” a Best Show inside joke.  The song comes from a bit between Sharpling and his comedy partner (and Superchunk drummer) Jon Wurster where Wurster called in as an aged rock star with very specific requirements for casting his surefire hit band The Gas Station Dogs.  During this call (which appears on the Sharpling-Wurster disc New Hope for the Ape-Eared and is worth the listen, if only for Wurster’s obsession with details), Wurster’s character Barry Dworkin performs this song, one that only has lyrics and a melody and took nearly two decades to compose.  The Sharpling-Wurster bit explains why these lyrics are inane and, well, awful, but Leo manages to make it into a catchy little tune (and even turns it into a riotous stomp on a Chunklet 7” single he split with Zach Galifinakis).  It’s catchy enough on its own, but even more ridiculous knowing why Leo committed all of these absurd words to memory. 

The Best Show airs tonight between 8-11 PM, so if you’re hanging around with nothing to do, give a listen and see what sort of odd mayhem Sharpling, Wurster, and Ted Leo have in store to try to earn operating capitol for a terrific independent station.

More on Ted Leo: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“100,000 Fireflies” – Superchunk
(Words/music: Stephin Merritt, available on Incidental Music 1991 – 95, Merge Records 1995)

I first knew “100,000 Fireflies” through the Superchunk version, and because my original copy of Incidental Music was on a CD-R, I didn’t know it wasn’t a Superchunk song.  With a bit of hindsight and and much deeper love for Superchunk’s catalogue, it stands out from a bunch of their earlier songs.  Lyrically it’s a little more dramatic than Mac McCaughan usually gets (I don’t think the phrase “I want to kill myself” appears in any of his songs).  Their cover highlights a lot of the things I love about the early Superchunk, particularly their fusion of melody and mayhem without sacrificing either.  It’s also more complex than the three chord pop-punk birthed at the end of the decade; the arrangement rises and falls in both volume and intensity.

There’s a certain justice to follow the “when I turn up the tone / on my electric guitar” lyric with electric guitars, and the energy Superchunk breathes into the song is infectious.  McCaughan’s strained vocals, particularly in the post-chorus section, lean on the desperation in the lyrics.  The guitar slows down and feels heavier as he pleads for another chance.  Gradually, Jim Wilbur embellishes on the main riff, twisting it into a brief solo before the song ends. 

In many ways, Superchunk gets right to the core of the song, bringing the urgency to the forefront with distorted guitars.  Like the Magnetic Fields version (and more on them in the next post – give me a half hour or so), the Superchunk cover relies on crafting a specific mood.  Their mood draws on the ones that run beneath the surface – ones I might not have gleaned just from the original version alone.

(Part 2 on the Magnetic Fields’ version can be read here)

More on Superchunk: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“Atlantic City” – The Band
(Words/music: Bruce Springsteen, available on Jericho, Rhino 1993)

This Levon Helm led version of “Atlantic City “ threw me for a loop the first time I heard it. I know Bruce Springsteen’s Nebraska by reputation as some of his starkest songs with some of his darkest characters. So hearing the brightness of the accordion and mandolin on the Band’s version caught me off guard. For a song where the narrator turns to gambling as a desperate solution to problems, The Band’s version sounded too bright. It sounded more like a leisurely afternoon on the boardwalk than terse moments inside a casino.

So I went back to Springsteen’s recording and found his original version closer to this one than I remembered. Sure, this isn’t the inspired, determined protagonist associated with a lot of his later work, but the main character in “Atlantic City” isn’t completely devoid of hope. He tempers his observation that “everyone dies” with the hope that “everything that dies someday comes back.” Whether it’s what he wants to believe or it’s a true sign of faith, hope remains nonetheless. Even some of the sonic details in the Band’s version that I found surprising – specifically the mandolin and the harmony vocals – exist in Springsteen’s recording too. Whether Springsteen plays a mandolin or an acoustic guitar in its upper register, a string instrument accompanies him the same way his double-tracked vocal harmonizes with him during the chorus. Levon Helm and his bandmates did what good covers often do by highlighting certain aspects of the original. As a result, it creates a distinctly unique version of the song that differentiates itself while still paying tribute to the original.

More on The Band: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“Across the Universe” – David Bowie
(Words/music: John Lennon & Paul McCartney, available on Young Americans, Virgin 1975) 

The Beatles’ recording of “Across the Universe,” recorded primarily on February 4, 1968, gradually unfolds itself and lets subtle layers of strings and harmonies roll out as the song progresses.  It’s appropriate, given both the song’s famous opening line and the way John Lennon described the song “flowing” into him one night in bed.  With its Sanskrit mantra mixed in, “Across the Universe” thrives on this circular interconnectivity on both the lyrical and musical level.

All this makes David Bowie’s version a little stranger.  Where Lennon’s performance flows effortlessly, Bowie’s version lags.  Anchored by a strong backbeat, the rest of the song feels like it’s moving in slow motion – the harmonies are strained and stretched out and the guitar melodies expand past their original length.  This isn’t a bad thing, either.  In fact, a straight-ahead cover from Bowie would be boring and out of character.  Instead, as it appears with the rest of the “plastic soul” Young Americans, Bowie’s universe feels slightly melted and warped and just slightly more irregular than Lennon’s perfect circle.  However, even with slightly disjointed parts, Bowie’s version reaches a moment of connectivity as well when Lennon shows up and trades off vocals at the end.  If Lennon’s original is a meditation, Bowie and Lennon’s trade off feels like resolution in the face of hardship.  With disjointed pieces and all, it’s a reminder that sometimes inner peace comes from ourselves rather than our surroundings.

More on David Bowie: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“My Way” – Sid Vicious
(Words: Paul Anka, music: Claude François and Jacques Revaux, available on Sid Sings, EMI 1979)

Truth be told, I have little to add to this.  It’s memorable in part because Sid Vicious died a premature and violent death, in part because it’s tweaking Sinatra, and in part because Scorsese used it over the credits of Goodfellas.  If anything, interpretation probably falls right down the middle between Vicious desecrating a standard and Vicious embodying the song’s denouncement of detractors.  Whether used to celebrate a full life or simply victory on one’s terms, “My Way” always came off to me as a bit too boastful to be truly moving.  

Even if I’m not really sure whether Vicious means this belligerently or earnestly, I know that I let off a little laugh when he sneers his way into “regrets.”  That, and I think of Ben Garant and Kerri Kenney’s portrayal of Sid and Nancy on a game show on The State and I laugh again.  I’m not quite sure what the agenda here is, but this is probably where all those ironic punk covers of decidedly non-punk songs come back to.  In that case, I’m torn; I admire the prototype yet hate the replications.

More on Sid Vicious: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“Freebird (Live)” – Built to Spill
(Words/music: Allen Collins and Ronnie Van Zant, undated live recording) 

After Conan O’Brien’s send off episode ended with an absurd performance of “Freebird” (which speaks for itself, so I won’t add anything new), I’ve had “Freebird” in the back of my mind.  It led me back to this recording of Built to Spill playing the song.  Situated somewhere between an unfunny joke and a guilty pleasure, “Freebird” probably yields the lowest request-to-performance ration of songs requested at rock shows.  However, Built to Spill have played the song for years (part of the reason I can’t identify the date of this recording – if you know, let me know and I’ll update the post).  They don’t just tease the song, either; they play the whole thing, solos and all.  Whether intended as a thumbing of the nose to those annoying requests from the crowd or a sincere take (and their 20+ minute version of “Cortez the Killer” from the band’s official live album leads me to think it’s intentional), Built to Spill take the opportunity to wail on the song for a solid eight minutes.

I’m inclined to think that the band isn’t being tongue-in-cheek with their version because it gives the band a chance to wail for a while.  Their “Freebird” doesn’t delve into the same distorted psychedelia that their “Cortez the Killer” features.  Instead, it gives the band an excuse to cut loose.  Looking back at it years later, their “Freebird” foreshadowed the guitar-heavy (and song-extending) tendencies on some of their more recent output.  In short, I’ve kept this version of “Freebird” for the same reason that the version on Conan worked – it’s played sincerely and comes across as a band having fun.

More on Built to Spill: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“Jesus Christ” – Teenage Fanclub
(Words/music: Alex Chilton, available on Ain’t That Enough EP, Creation 1997)

Writing about Teenage Fanclub covering a Big Star song does a disservice to the band, as they’re unfairly cast aside as Big Star imitators too often.  Still, it’s Christmas and I wrote about Big Star at the beginning of the year, so Teenage Fanclub will get their own day sometime next year.

That aside, their version of Chilton’s “Jesus Christ” leans heaviest on the ways Big Star influenced generations of power pop bands.  Every inch of this song, whether the sweet melody in the hook, the fuzzy lead guitars, or the clear counter melodies plucked underneath, hums with melody.  Their version is a faithful, slightly more muscular version of Big Star’s recoridng, although it leaves out Chilton’s closing declaration that “we’re gonna get born now.”  Even though it’s one of my favorite parts of the original (especially the way Chilton slightly rises up from his otherwise placid delivery), it’s a necessary omission.  This final line, along with the rest of the weird and twisted Third / Sister Lovers collection, suggests that Chilton laces the song with sarcasm.  Regardless of his intent, the sweetness of the melody and the charming arrangement are wonderous, and it’s this part of the song Teenage Fanclub honors on their version.  That’s the way I plan on spending the rest of my Christmas - celebrating the spirit and beauty of the season and taking a day off from the snark or cynicism.  There’s plenty of time for that the rest of the year.

More on Teenage Fanclub: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm