Cover Classics takes a closer look at all-cover albums of the past, their genesis, and their legacy.
To celebrate the entry of Joe Cocker into the Rock’n’Roll Hall Of Fame, possibly the only way to celebrate this sometimes consummate interpreter of song, is to drill down into one of his many albums. Organic was a bit different, even by his standards; as well as a selection of songs new to him, producer Don Was got him to revisit some of his earlier covers. Quite a risk, as the now 52-year-old singer was widely seen, by then, as merely functional, going through the motions with a gruff bluster and a camouflage of backing singers.
Rewind to 1969. Arms flailing and eyes tight shut, the sight of the ex-gas fitter as he transformed “With a Little Help From My Friends” from skip-over track, into a searing ceremony of the soul; it was an astonishing moment. It had already captured the hearts of listeners at home, a number one UK single in 1968. But, played out on stage to thousands at Woodstock, the film then made sure it was then seen by millions worldwide. Suddenly he was a star, seemingly from nowhere.
For a while he could do no wrong. Blessed by a crack team of London’s best session men, his first two albums are a remarkable salvo of intent, matching his sublime vocals, Ray Charles with a little more frailty, with some of the best playing of the day. He even wrote a bit back then, but it soon became far more apparent that his strength lay more in what he could bring to the songs of others. On the back of these albums, and buoyed by Woodstock, he hurtled next into the Leon Russell helmed Mad Dogs & Englishmen circus, a carnival of excesses that went on a 48-date tour. Cocker, already exhausted by his earlier whirlwind ascent to fame, self-medicated his way around America on pills and booze, became a wreck by the end of it.
That could have been that, and nearly was; he needed two years away from music to even begin to recover. However, good friend Chris Stainton lured him back to the limelight. The return to the treadmill, and all its attendant vices, nearly and should have killed him. So much so that, when Michael Lang agreed to become his manager, in 1976, this was only on the condition of his sobriety, a condition which, against both odds or expectation, he came to fulfill.
From that time, and almost up to the time of his death, his workload remained formidable. Dipping between styles, he would follow up an album with the Crusaders, heavy with horns, with a bevy of soundtrack anthems, to wave lighters in the sky to. Quality varied and it was hard to know quite to whom he was aiming his appeal. But, by and large, his bread and butter was in the melodic songs of the ’60s, songs by Dylan and the Beatles, who suited his soulful timbre. Retaining healthy audience numbers, they were forgiving his fraying range, right up until he died, aged 75.
So, back to Organic. Don Was, the maverick musician, record producer, music director, film composer and documentary filmmaker, had already shown a Midas touch with his ability to revitalise flagging careers and/or add new pep to those then needing a lift. Iggy Pop, Bonnie Raitt, Brian Wilson and the Rolling Stones can all owe a degree of debt to the bassist from Detroit, they all ahead of Cocker, with many more after. His idea was to revisit some of Cocker’s greatest moments, tacking on a few new songs to cover in addition. A veritable who’s who came out to add their instruments to the album, headed by the ever faithful Stanton, also including Billy Preston, Jim Keltner, Darryl Jones, and Greg Leisz, with even cameos from Randy Newman and Dean Parks. Additional, let’s say, buffering vocals came from the likes of Merry Clayton.
Sadly, at the time, the album did not fare well, and failed, at least in the U.S., to chart. Nonetheless, worldwide sales eventually exceeded the million mark, as it went gold in several European territories. I think it has needed the sands of time to sift over it, ahead of this belated decontextualisation of its worth. Ready?
The set opens with one of the “new” songs, Van Morrison’s “Into the Mystic,” even then one of the more covered songs by the Belfast cowboy. Morrison and Cocker couldn’t have more idiosyncratic voices, each occupying a different approach to the conveyance of soul. I think Cocker does the song proud, unearthing nuances absent from the sharper attack of the original, and the delicate infusion of reggae into the arrangement works a treat. From there it is to one of the oldest songs in the Cocker canon, WWII staple, “Bye Bye Blackbird,” first written in 1926 and first covered by Cocker on his 1969 debut. I usually loathe such songs, trotted out on the old joanna in East End pubs, but, in 1969, Cocker graced it with a rare dignity and sensitivity. This later version is even better, a smoother still version, and, if Cocker’s voice has less range to work with, he covers it well. Preston’s organ is, unsurprisingly, terrific.
“Delta Lady” is so irrevocably steeped in the carnie mayhem of ‘Mad Dogs’ as to allow no comparison, yes? Well, almost, with a little too much gargle, but it is still a credible rendition. Technically not a cover, as it was Cocker who sang on the first release. Irma Thomas’ “Heart Full of Rain,” another new, follows and features co-writer Tony Joe White on guitar and harmonica. Actually a far gentler version of the song, it is given a less angular construction, the harmonica a more than adequate replacement for the horns on Thomas’ original. The same reggae inflection of “Into the Mystic” slips into the revised “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood.” On reflection, given Cocker’s 1969 version is officially, one of the best versions ever (2017 opinion), this is actually a shrewd move. By taking away the focus, this allows new ears to listen.
“Many Rivers to Cross” isn’t so great, the harsh grip of time showing quite how much Cocker’s voice has suffered in the 14 years between versions. So, moving on swiftly, “High Lonesome Blue” is actually a Cocker original, a swampy co-write with Tony Joe White, which may have been better sung by White. Praise be, then, Cocker offers just the right touch for “Sail Away.” To be fair, it is never going to be hard to eclipse the singing voice of the originator of the song, Randy Newman, whose piano it is beneath Cocker’s voice. No bells, no whistles, just the two of them, by and large.
Stevie Wonder has attracted Cocker previously. I am uncertain whether “You and I” is a song sufficient to allow Cocker to add very much, especially with the somewhat wan arrangement. But “Darlin’, Be Home Soon” somehow benefits from the slightly clunky surrounding instrumentation, which allows Cocker to heighten the anxiety in John B. Sebastian’s lyric. Again, there is sufficient distance between this version and the exquisite 1969 version to allow enjoyment in its own right. Put it this way: if you knew the earlier version, hearing this one played live, you’d go home happy. The lovely country-tinged guitar solo is, rather than Greg Leisz, actually from Johnny Lee Schell.
Ah, Mr. Dylan, we were expecting you! Another of the new covers, “Dignity” gets grafted a no-nonsense boogie-woogie rhythm that initially seems apposite, ahead the never more-Garth Hudson organ coming swooping in. It’s Preston again, of course, his fingerprint, across so much of this album. It doesn’t offer much vocal calisthenic from Cocker, but it’s a decent diversion, not least against what is soon coming. I’d forgotten that Randy Newman was also the author of “You Can Leave Your Hat On,” a song I associate almost wholly with Tom Jones. This is a funkier version than the Pontypridd panty collector’s, but doesn’t overly trouble anyone present.
Maybe it’s just I was nervous for “You Are So Beautiful,” a real gloopfest of a song, and one, that had Cocker’s first version of it been the first Cocker song I had ever heard, well, I wouldn’t be writing this. A vile and ghastly song, with extremely passive aggressive lyrics: “to me”, anyone? Yes, I know that either/or/both Billy Preston and Dennis Wilson wrote the song, but my belief in both as individuals isn’t enough to grace it with any credibility. So imagine my surprise that this is a beauty. Stripping away the cocktail piano, the guitar accompaniment is a much better basis for the song to be built on. Yes, the strings do get a bit saccharine, but the improvement remains immeasurable. Or am I just getting sentimental? Either way, my view stands.
The pathos of the preceding song is perfect as the appetiser for the gorgeous closer “Can’t Find My Way Home,” with more balls than versions of this Blind Faith/Stevie Winwood classic generally carry. Billy Preston, once more, plays a blinder, rendering Cocker’s earlier stab at it just five years before. The mood in the song is a flashback to the Mad Dogs and Englishmen sound that so helped, at whatever personal cost, establish Cocker’s place in the pantheon. A terrific place for the album to end.
There are quite a few Joe Cocker compilations out there. I would suggest you skip these and invest in this alone. Or alongside the two-fer re-release of his first two albums. And maybe Mad Dogs, too. But, irrespective, as far as covers go, and as far as Cocker goes, it’s a corker!
‘Origins’ tracklisting:
1 Into The Mystic (Van Morrison original)
2 Bye Bye Blackbird (Sam Lanin’s Dance Orchestra original)
3 Delta Lady
4 Heart Full Of Rain (Irma Thomas original)
5 Please Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood (Nina Simone original)
6 Many Rivers To Cross (Jimmy Cliff original)
7 High Lonesome Blue
8 Sail Away (Randy Newman original)
9 You And I (Stevie Wonder original)
10 Darlin’ Be Home Soon (The Lovin’ Spoonful original)
11 Dignity (Bob Dylan original)
12 You Can Leave Your Hat On (Randy Newman original)
13 You Are So Beautiful (Billy Preston original)
14 Can’t Find My Way Home (Blind Faith original)
Follow our complete Rock and Roll Hall of Fame series here! All week long we’ll be sharing covers by/of every artist inducted: Cyndi Lauper, Chubby Checker, Joe Cocker, The White Stripes, Salt n Pepa, Bad Company, Soundgarden, and Warren Zevon!
