Tom Waits / Bruce Springsteen, “Jersey Girl”

In an earlier conversation about the Counting Crows cover of The Psychedelic Furs’ “The Ghost in You,” I said that a cover version should do these things: “…present an alternative viewpoint, invoke the sensibility of the original, and leave you with a newfound appreciation for the genius of song.” And, I suppose, that’s pretty much how I feel about it. Cover songs are remarkably tricky animals, as the best you can hope for is to distinguish yourself from the original artist in a way that is both interesting and insightful, and, yet, avoids being truly ignoble. Which is to say that there’s a fairly long distance on the continuum between Flying Lizard’s cover of “Money (That’s What I Want)” and Nirvana’s version of “Where Did You Sleep Last Night?” Occasionally, if a band is quite lucky, they find a way to truly make another artist’s art their own. In this category, you might place Pearl Jam’s rendition of “Rockin’ in the Free World,” or “Winterlong” by the Pixies. (Seems Neil Young gets all the love, tonight.) Continue reading

Peter Gabriel, “Mercy Street”

Late at night, when almost everyone is asleep and my mind wanders over the width and breadth of my life, those thousand sordid images, I find myself drawn to certain songs. It’s an instinct that I’ve had since I was very little, and I’m sure my father, and the music he lulled me to sleep with, has everything to do with it. This song has ever been one of the late-night songs. I first heard it when I was about ten. My uncle Troy had the “Sixteen Golden Treats” disc, and he would let me borrow it from time to time. I remember staying up in the small hours listening to it over and over. Over the years, I’ve really come to admire Peter Gabriel’s originality. His fierce, and often impossible, integrity as an artist. I don’t really intend to go too deeply into it, as I’m really only here to share this brief moment with you. (Never fear, though: Peter will certainly be along soon enough in the “Songs” series.) Continue reading