Ladtacular…

Martin Skidmore: One more track that I rather dreaded, and another that is as close a copy as they are capable of, adding some inevitably horrible guitar. It wasn’t one of my favourite Specials songs - there seemed a class contempt in it, to me - and the lifeless singalong vocal does nothing for it. I’d give it a lower mark, but there are more deeply horrible tracks on this.
[3]

Iain Forrester: They make one last ditch attempt to claim it for their own, but there’s extremely little of Kasabian here. Just a great song struggling valiantly against a deep reverence that ill-suits it, and in the end just barely winning.
[6]

Joseph McCombs: I feel terrible every time I laugh at “Ain’t he cute? No, he ain’t!” Faithful reading, if a bit hastened, and I can appreciate a dose of lecturing in an age when pop icons aren’t exactly prodding people into maturity. I’m not enough of a Specials devotee to care whether Kasabian are fit to carry their water, but they offer a serviceable facsimile here.
[6]

M. H. Lo: I guess Kasabian deserves some points for covering a track that was originally banned—and placing it on a tribute CD to the institution that banned it. But the Specials song was pretty stupid in 1979, and its “politics” sound even more confused in 2007. An attack on a woman who is content to bake “currant buns” and also houses other buns in her oven, the song can only posit being young and acting like a twat (“I’ll spread manure in your bed of roses”) as an alternative. Furthermore, even though the lyric on one level targets a bourgeois woman (or at least bourgeois values), her child is described as “another burden on the welfare state.” The result is a song that sounds like it dislikes women in general (and of course the father is never critiqued in the song, though it is entirely possible that the man who’s gotten the woman pregnant now continues to run around: in other words, he is the narrator). In a time when the issue of young mothers on welfare grows more complex, not to mention more racialized, “Too Much Too Young” hardly needs a faithful Kasabian cover.
[2]

Collabotacular…

Al Shipley: I had a hard enough time picturing the guy from that perfectly pleasant “Grace Kelly” song on VH1 doing an appropriately menacing take on this tune. And even with a ravey beat banging on in the background, it’s somehow more ill-fitting than what I would’ve expected. Surely there was some piano pop tune from the same year that he could’ve tackled instead.
[3]

Kevin J. Elliott: I’m wondering if people in Britain even remember the flame-in-the-pan known as Mika. Thanks to this horrendous mix of gabber and stale techno and b-list Police hit, they’re sure to excommunicate him from the British cultural lexicon forever. The funny thing is Sting probably loves it.
[1]

Ian Mathers: The backing is pretty much exactly what you’d expect from Van Helden; brash, obvious, and still kind of fun. Mika dials back the Mercuryisms and manages to be less annoying than Sting (even Police-era Sting), which is an achievement. I’m a big fan of dance remakes where the music seems to pay only token attention to the original melody even as the vocals keep to it, and this version definitely scratches that itch. I might actually prefer it to the original.
[7]

John M. Cunningham: This abrasive house version of the Police tune works far better than it should, thanks to Mika’s athletic vocals, but that still doesn’t mean it works very well at all; I don’t miss the tinny reggae affect of the original, but fool for songcraft that I am, I do miss the harmonic underpinning that’s been sacrificed for scrapes of hi-tech noise.
[4]

Peeltacular…

Tom Ewing: “Teenage Kicks” is a very simple song, which makes it an awfully easy one to get wrong, and this scrappy, draggy live version manages less spunk than Busted’s. Very obviously something Jack White just had lying around.
[3]

Jonathan Bradley: A pleasantly trashy guitar sound is enough to keep this in the realm of agreeable garage rock, but there’s too little personality to elevate it beyond that. A lack of distinction is an unusual quality for a band containing Jack White to possess, but there you go.
[5]

Keane Tzong: Live version? There’s a lot of charm here, but it’s all a little muffly and not quite as spiky, or as immediate, as I would like any cover of “Teenage Kicks” to be, especially considering how faithful this one is to its source material. Not bad at all, but not particularly special either.
[6]

Lee Hampton: It’s hard to go too awry with this one. My main complaint is the production. It’s a live recording and sounds dreadfully muddy, with Brendan Benson revealing himself to be a subpar live singer at best. The energy and melody are there though – as long as you’ve got that, the song rocks.
[6]

Archtacular…

Martin Skidmore: I played Bowie’s Low album pretty obsessively at the time, and I still love Eno’s production, and I have no time for this band, so this is one I was particularly dreading. I guess this is about as close a copy as they could manage, and it’s not actually terribly offensive. Do you recall the Top Of The Pops and Hot Hits instant cover version albums of the time? I bet this tune sounded just like this version on one of those.
[3]

Greg Fanoe: This cover is very similar to the original, but every aspect of the song is ratcheted up a few notches. I mean, the original is pretty cabaret, but this one is just a camp-fest. It’s a bit of an afterthought tossoff, and I doubt they spent more than 15 minutes on it, but as long as I’m listening to a pisstake it’s nice to hear an entertaining pisstake.
[6]

Imran Siddiquee: Franz push Ziggy further into orbit with glossy synths and guitar distortion, yet maintain the meat and potatoes of the original. The subtle experiments, from Kapranos’s layered vocals to even the cursory appearance from Girls Aloud, come together in a surprisingly clean and efficient fashion.
[8]

Edward Oculicz: The original version of this is shockingly overrated, so this cover’s probably about equal - nicely playful but a bit meandering. A competent, but unthrilling rendition. I kept waiting for a “Take Me Out”-esque right turn in the tempo, but it just kept chugging along pleasantly at one pace. Reverent, but no more.
[6]

Husktacular…

Tom Ewing: The version Tunstall is ‘covering’ is itself a cover, of course, and since Tunstall’s approach is to strip out Bryan Ferry’s big-eyed ironic soul and go straight back to Commitments-style belting, you have to wonder how “1976” this all is. Maybe it’s a pub rock tribute! Will make you think fondly of what a very funny and charming singer Ferry is.
[4]

Iain Forrester: KT really gives this some welly, and her growl is the best thing, stamping a new identity all over it. It’s a shame that the arrangement is a little lacking in comparison. The guitar wailing isn’t a bad attempt, but the horns just come off timid.
[6]

Joseph McCombs: KT has a flavor. Is pretty great, actually. A fusion place’s take on Southern grits with cheddar.
[8]

M. H. Lo: Immediate reasons why this is not better than Bryan’s version: (1) It does not feature a rabid Jerry Hall barking, and (2) KT Tunstall will not spot a pencil-thin sleazetache in any video made for the song. (Well, at least I don’t think so.) Secondary reason: (1) The chugging bassline was very prominent in Ferry’s take, and coupled with the heavy drums and Bee Gees horns, gave the song a clubby, dubby feel. KT’s version is shrill honky-tonk. Maybe she’ll claim that she’s really covering Wilbert Harrison or Canned Heat (more authentic!), but even then, hers may be one of the few cover versions in history that sound MORE DATED than its source. It’s almost a neat trick!
[3]

Slinktacular…

Martin Skidmore: One of the tracks I most looked forward to - I loved Roxy Music in their heyday, and it was a surprising combination. We get a fairly minimal tight and funky beat, and Kylie sings with total confidence, real verve and a sense of fun. Terrific. Could have gone on a lot longer.
[9]

Kevin J. Elliott: Had the original ceased to exist, Kylie’s take on the Roxy classic would suffice as nice digital seduction to add to her collection of mirror-ball classics. Unfortunately, knowing every nuance and throb of original renders this flat and completely sexless. There is no glam-funk, alleyway sax, no tension in the chorus and no release in the chorus. This is a song that belongs to one man: Ferry owns this.
[3]

Ian Mathers: Kylie covering Ferry seems almost impossibly tailored to be catnip for a certain breed of pop lover, and I admit the match seems like a great idea to me too. Kudos to her for keeping the lines “Lumber up, limbo down” and “I say go, she say yes” as is, and she certainly turns in a version worth keeping, but it falls just short of the transcendence it seems to be promising. She’s not quite as good a dancer as old Bryan Ferry, but she’s a better singer. This is still slightly in the shadow of Grace Jones’ attempt, though.
[8]

John M. Cunningham: Wisely, producer Calvin Harris doesn’t radically alter the blueprint for Roxy Music’s proto-disco hit, even retaining the original’s sleazy horn screeches; all the better to focus our attention on Kylie’s coquettishly mouthed couplets, which turn out to be as primitively seductive as Justin Timberlake’s distorted “SexyBack” swagger.
[7]

M. H. Lo: In which Kylie imagines what it would be like to be produced by DFA. “Interesting” (i.e., not a disaster), but let’s hope she’s gotten it out of her system in time for the forthcoming album to not have to dabble in such cowbell fantasies.
[6]

Grunty vs. Old Men…

Tom Ewing: I rub my eyes and drop my jaw on encountering a band who actually know how to add something to the material they’ve chosen. “Band On The Run”, it turns out, sounds terrific with a bit of extra muscle and a tight, frill-free bar-band sensibility. Not only do the Foo Fighters seem to have thought a bit about how to do the song, they also sound like they’re enjoying playing it. I could weep with gratitude.
[8]

Lee Hampton: Lots of questionable guitarness and a few truly terrible transitions (not that the original exactly lends a better blueprint). The melodies surprisingly translate themselves well to hard rock and alternative formats though, giving the whole thing a slightly rewarding anthemism. Except for that “band on the run” part…
[5]

Dan MacRae: If asked to imagine what a Foos cover of “Band On The Run: would sound like, odds are this would sync up with the results almost exactly. The song is dorky, the band is dorky, but you’d expect something more fun than Dave Grohl grunting the chorus at you while the track drags on like it’s the end of A.I. or something. To be honest, it wouldn’t be too nutty to imagine Guns n’ Roses pulling out a twelve minute enormoepic out of the source material.
[3]

Al Shipley: As many times as the Foos have been labeled the Wings of their generation, there has to be a knowing cheekiness to this selection, but it works (and it helps that I like my favorite Foo Fighters songs as much as my favorite Nirvana songs, same as with Paul and the Beatles). Grohl has a lot of experience updating crusty 70’s hits like “Baker Street” with modern rock compression and crunch, but I feel like this could’ve been done better; it starts as a faithful homage, but feels a little too crisp and rushed once the uptempo part kicks in.
[5]

Jonathan Bradley: The cover song should not be such dangerous territory, but Foo Fighters share a little too many similarities with Wings, none of which are complimentary. “Band on the Run” establishes Dave Grohl’s troop as the contemporary version of Paul McCartney’s; the frontmen of both groups come from revered bands that easily outshine their newer projects, and both Wings and Foo Fighters are dedicated to producing slickly competent but colorless radio rock. Considering Foo Fighters had previously excelled at ’70s rock covers (Gerry Rafferty’s “Baker Street”), even with the Jonny Greenwood Fantasy Camp guitar breaks, this is a particularly regrettable failure.
[4]

Additional Ratings

Martin Skidmore: [8]

Londoners return to their spiritual decade…

Edward Oculicz: This sounds perfect, The Feeling are fantastic at getting that AM-radio sound from the 70s and making it work in a 00s context. That said, I’ve never been convinced by any of their songs, and I don’t think deep emotional investment is even in their vocabularies. “You’re So Vain” is, at its core, as entertaining for Carly Simon’s vocal bipolarity as its tune; she’s resigned, she’s angry, she’s rueful, she’s happy to be out of there. Dan Gillespie Sells, by contrast, has the emotional range of a burlap sack, and sings as if he doesn’t really understand English.
[4]

Imran Siddiquee: When John Darnielle released his version of this song, on The Mountain Goats’ Hail and Farewell, Gothenburg, it featured only the verses - no chorus. Whatever his reasons for doing so, it reminded me then of how annoying the most famous lines in this song really are. That being said, the only thing halfway interesting about this particular cover by The Feeling comes from hearing a male sing a chorus that has always been interpreted (regardless of who you think she’s really talking about) as a criticism of pompous men.
[5]

Cecily Nowell-Smith: You’d think a cover would be the perfect time to correct Carly Simon’s ridiculous pronunciation of ‘apricot’ (is it supposed to be a comment on vain dude’s pretentiousness? This is the kind of question that keeps me up at night), but it seems that the ever-lovely Feeling are, uh, feeling too respectful to go that far. They’re feeling pretty jaunty, though, that sweet smooth organ sound burbling away cheerfully under the bright splash of piano, the guitars glam-rocking out politely on the chorus, a superabundance of little noises sparkling briefly into earshot and then disappearing as quickly as they came. I don’t know if this song is supposed to make me smile so much - the singer’s clearly trying to sound at least mildly peeved - but, wow, let The Feeling loose on any song and immediately it’s the greatest pick-me-up.
[8]

Keane Tzong: Points for effort, I think, because there is an idea here and it has certainly been executed- right to its sadly inevitable conclusion, even- but an idea can only really go so far. And certainly the fact that I can’t hear the chorus isn’t helping matters one whit.
[4]

Turn-up for the books – we rather like this one…

Iain Forrester: I don’t know the original, so I don’t know if that would be reminding me of “Especially For You” too. Not something I can count against it either way, obviously, and I definitely like it regardless. It’s identifiably Sugababes, but it’s unusually soft and airy and its dreamy harmonies really benefit from space to shine.
[7]

Martin Skidmore: One of the very few tracks I was positively looking forward to hearing, and a good track is needed by now. Lovely production, taut and sweet modern R&B, and equally lovely singing, fine harmonies and moving leads. It’s a gorgeous song, and they make the most of it. A real winner.
[10]

M. H. Lo: For a mainstream pop act, Sugababes possesses some edginess, although there’s an opinion, steadily gaining momentum, that they are now losing that edge. Prosecutors for that case will gleefully marshal this track as evidence for their case, because it’s hard for a girl group to cover “Betcha by Golly, Wow” without sounding like a bunch of Doris Days (especially because Heidi, the most, um, whitebread ’Babe who’s usually relegated delegated to middle eights, here takes the lead vocal). Fine. But in the context of an album on which other artists are slaughtering their assigned songs (oops, SPOILER!), it’s a relief and even refreshing to hear a lovely group singing a lovely song lovingly.
[8]

Tom Ewing: One of the problems with this kind of curiosity shop project is that, with the best will in the world, people aren’t going to shell out for top-dollar beats and production. The Sugababes know their way round the tune and a lovely tune it is, but “Betcha By Golly Wow” really only works when it’s a heart full of fireworks all exploding at once, rather than the babes sitting round the kitchen table of romance watching puffs of green smoke coming out of a small black cone with the wick half fallen off.
[6]

Greg Fanoe: The changes between this and the original are subtle but meaningful. They’ve added a spare, minimalist beat, they’ve punched up the vocals a bit, and they’ve added a very pleasant soft guitar solo. The small changes add up to a lot, and they retain the sweetness of the original, while adding energy and bite to it. My only complaint is that they are covering a song I don’t really care too much for in the first place, so while I do like this better than the original, it’s still not something I’ll intentionally listen to.
[7]

Brummie lad gets a bit mopey. Again…

Tom Ewing: Mawkish piano and strings accompany Mike Skinner, who reads out the lyrics to “Your Song” like a special needs student taking an eye test. “I know it’s not much”, croon some backing singers at the end, raising the first, teeny-tiny, suspicions that maybe the artists assembled for this much-touted Radio 1 anniversary project don’t actually care very much about it. Oh I say, surely not, etc. It’s a shame, as if he actually meant it this would be a pretty outrageous bit of brinkmanship.
[2]

Kevin J. Elliott: While Skinner scores points for pulling at the heartstrings, going for broke by actually singing rather than dictating lyrics – he should have stuck with a more streetwise attempt, as this plays like the cuddly overture in a Muppet movie, or worse, a ballad from the Kids of Widney High. It’s adorable like a car crash.
[4]

Joseph McCombs: A complete and utter travesty, one that wouldn’t even have been remedied had Mr. Skinner bothered to learn the song before going in to record it. This blank karacockneyoke rendition is an embarrassing mismatch of artist and material that has no business sullying this collection. The only part that isn’t dishonest is the closing, a solemn “I know it’s not much.” An understatement, that.
[0]

John M. Cunningham: There’s something marginally endearing about anyone doing an awkward, heartfelt rendition of an Elton John song, but The Streets have worked largely in spite of Mike Skinner’s occasional meanderings off key, and if this didn’t have his name attached to it, it’d be dismissed, rightfully, as painful karaoke.
[3]