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“Life on Mars?” – Seu Jorge
(Words/music: David Bowie, available on The Life Aquatic Sessions, Hollywood 2005)

The marriage of David Bowie’s songs and a Wes Anderson makes sense if only because of the shared weirdness between the two.  So it’s appropriate that The Life Aquatic, probably Anderson’s strangest movie, featured a character that played David Bowie songs in Portuguese throughout the whole film.  It was an interesting way to incorporate the soundtrack into the film’s plot (although there are a few excellent songs used traditionally, especially the Zombies’ “The Way I Feel Inside” among others).  Still, these performances share the same critique as the film in general.  To quote Moe Syzslak, much of the movie was “weird for the sake of being weird,” and having a character who spends most of his entire time on screen singing Bowie songs without a single line of dialogue (it’s been a while since I’ve seen the movie, so correct me if I’m wrong He does have a few lines of dialogue.  Thanks for the tip, Andrew) feels excessively odd.

That being said, Seu Jorge’s performances are compelling, even on their own.  Not knowing a word of Portuguese, I find that I’m shifting my attention away from the words and to the music itself, whether it’s Jorge’s distinctive vocal style (which often mimics Bowie’s fast delivery) or the beautifully replicated songs.  It also strikes me how a lot of the songs still have the same emotional resonance without having words to understand.  “Life on Mars” in particular feels bittersweet, suggesting the same feelings of loneliness without words to tell the story.  Jorge’s interpretations stand as tributes to Bowie’s versatile songwriting, showing how his songs still stand up (and, on occasion, take on a new life) even with the narrative power of the lyrics stripped away.

More on Seu Jorge: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

TAGGED UNDER: seu jorge | david bowie | 2005 | 2000s | wes anderson | the life aquatic |
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“Waiting on a Friend” – Luna
(Words/music: Mick Jagger and Keith Richards, available on Close Cover Before Striking, Jetset 2002)

I have a mixed relationship with the Rolling Stones.  I first soured on the Rolling Stones as a teenager after hearing the same ten songs on the radio over and over again.  Still, I found my way to Exile on Main St., in part because of all of the praise I read in the music magazines I read back then, and in part because we had a record store a couple towns over named after the album (the store has since closed). I’ve grown to love the album (or most of its gritty, swaggering songs), but I immediately dismissed it the way a teenager dismisses things – by comparing it to something you loathe.  I thought Exile on Main St. sounded too much like the Black Crowes (a comparison they would die for, no doubt), and that and my growing indifference to hearing “Beast of Burden” one more time on the radio were enough to extinguish most of my interest in the band. 

Of course, I later regretted this sweeping generalization, but it took hearing the songs in a different context. One was hearing Rolling Stones songs used in movies – Martin Scorsese must have Jagger and Richards on speed dial, as he uses the Stones excellently in his movies (it’s also worth noting that seeing his Rolling Stones film Shine a Light on IMAX cemented my fandom, but I’ll elaborate another time).  Wes Anderson uses some more obscure Stones songs as well, and “Play with Fire” in The Darjeeling Limited made me stick around for the entire credits just to get the song’s title.  Other times, I needed to hear a Rolling Stones song without knowing that it was a Stones song in order to overcome my aversion.  I remember hearing Luna’s version of “Waiting on a Friend” while previewing music for my college radio show.  I recognized the song yet couldn’t immediately place it as a Rolling Stones song.  I like the way this cover version preserves the feel of the original song by juxtaposing the laid back, breezy instrumental with Jagger’s overtly emotional lyric.  Luna stays faithful to the original arrangement, save for adding a little more reverb to their guitar tone.  I also like Dean Wareham’s vocals on Luna’s version, as his more relaxed singing voice suits the song well.  Mick Jagger scored points for “letting his guard down” (or as Buffalo Tom’s Bill Janovitz puts it on Allmusic.com – “a rare instance of him letting down his mask – or layers of masks), Wareham sounds earnest in his pleas for companionship.  To make the honest pun, Luna’s cover got the first stone rolling in my re-evaluation of the Rolling Stones with this cover.  I still might change the station when “Satisfaction” comes on for the fourth time in a day, but now I’ll  go home and put on an entire album instead.

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

TAGGED UNDER: luna | dean wareham | mick jagger | the rolling stones | martin scorsese | wes anderson | 2002 | 2000s | track analysis | cover song |

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“These Days” – Nico
(Words/music: Jackson Browne, available on Chelsea Girl, Verve Records 1967)

Enough has been written about “These Days” having this melancholy cloud over it.  I don’t need to tell you about its lyrically fixation on missed opportunities, or that most of the Velvet Underground played on Nico’s album, or that Jackson Browne (a criminally underrated songwriter, in my book) wrote this song as a teenager, or that Andy Warhol pulled most of the strings on this album.  I don’t need to mention how Wes Anderson uses this scene to introduce Gwyneth Paltrow’s character in The Royal Tennenbaums (in a scene where Luke Wilson speaks volumes with his body language).  This is the public persona of this song, and chances are that when you hear this song, you think of one of these things, and to a point rightfully so, as almost all of them are more significant than Nico, the German model turned singer.

That being said, Nico deserves more credit than she gets for this definitive version of the song.   She sings the song in a dry, slightly detached way, and while that might sound like criticism in other circumstances, it’s an effective treatment for the song.  Her voice fits the protagonist’s persona as someone jilted by mistakes and misfortunes in the past, and she sings that she’ll taking safer choices from now on.  Rather than celebrating stability, Nico makes Browne’s words sound resigned and defeated – the youthful days of possibility are now the older days of “what if”s and “no thanks.”  In the hands of a singer with a sweeter sounding voice, “These Days” would sound hollow.  Instead, its Nico’s icy demeanor that makes her sound like she’s lived through the years that brought her to “These Days.”

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

TAGGED UNDER: nico | 1967 | 1960s | andy warhol | the velvet underground | Jackson Browne | wes anderson |
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