You sort of know where you are with Portland’s Dandy Warhols. Their grungy fug of elemental electronica and gritty guitars rarely disappoints, nor does it stray far from their narrowly defined template. Applying a sheen of intelligent and informed dumb to everything they touch, cover versions have always proven sure ground for the quartet, making Pin Ups, their second set devoted thereto, something to relish. Given, too, the influences in their original songs are never that hard to spot, they nail more personality into the songs of others than you might reasonably expect, making this so much more than swoozy re-runs.
It is easy to imagine the discussions leading to this set of 17 songs were as much fun as the making of it. Some songs and some bands were just screaming out for inclusion–witness the Cramps and the Runaways–but I can’t say Dylan and the Beatles were expected to be featured, let alone the particular songs chosen. Of course, this isn’t the first airing for all of these songs, some collated and curated from previous forays into tribute discs and similar. Overall, there is also a stronger UK goth presence than might have been expected, with a song from the Cure and two by the Cult. Any obtusely perceived debt to UK punk is likewise mined through assaults on the songbooks of both the Clash and the Damned. Intrigued? I am.
“Cherry Bomb” is the perfect opener, the rush of full on knowing naïveté bursting out all over. Over what sounds a synthesized rhythm track of bouncy keyboard bass and motorik drums, the guitars splurge in messily as Courtney Taylor-Taylor reads off the lyric. As Zia McCabe chimes in with her spunky harmony each time the song title crowns the chorus, it’s wonderful and as direct as a paper cut. I had it on repeat for longer than I should admit, just relishing the sheer brattishness. With the tape seeming to slow and shatter, the segue into track 2 is tremendous.
And when that track 2 is the moody monochrome throb of “What We All Want,” the band nail the minimalistic Gang of Four mantra into early Stranglers territory, the bass now organic and mixed high in the mix. I can imagine Robert Smith fully approving the shimmery assault on early Cure single, “Primary.” Although Taylor-Taylor’s vocal isn’t so far removed from Smith’s, the bouffant brushbacked singer sounds almost wired by comparison with the delivery here, despite the velocity being ever so slightly slower.
“Kiss Off,” released earlier as a single, features McCabe on lead voice, her feminine drawl as affecting as her bandmates. The shouted “yeah yeah“s are the added value around the choppy guitar, which repeats deep into any ears, like a worm. But it all feels a build up for the keenly anticipated Cramps favorite, “Goo Goo Muck,” up next. The band know it isn’t a Cramps original, mind, but there is no doubt that this is the version they are covering, with sufficient respect paying nods to that rendition, with enough of their own tropes to have you fully engage. (So, a yes from me!) The main responsibility for this album was, apparently, guitarist Peter Holmström, who clearly enjoyed himself for this one.
A sotto voce question, “sound good,” beckons in “Rain,” the first of the pair by the Cult. McCabe’s keys feature more prominently, the suggestion of an accordion hanging there also, although it is the direct drum pattern of Brent DeBoer that is most striking. With a tonality and rhythm invoking the band’s own best-known song, “Bohemian Like You,” this is not necessarily a bad thing, allowing you then all the more to enjoy the quirky individualism of “Straight To Hell,” which takes time to even reveal what it is. With a ticky-tocky beat and a synthesizer lowing gently behind the vocal, it is only with the chorus that muscle memory switches to recall. Probably the highlight, at least thus far.
The subsequent run of what must surely count as classic cover staples might grab you one or two ways. Certainly each are unlike much anything already in the second-hand chest of favorites, but, by straying out the usual shtick of the band, there is a sense they are seeking style over their perceived substance. I don’t know; my opinion changes at each listen. So we get America’s “Sister Golden Hair,” gifted with a chuggy halfway house between the Ramones and the Bangles. The singing is great and the guitars convince, but it is a little lazy. “Lay Lady Lay,” however, becomes a languid lysergic litany that shakes up the song into a whole different direction. “Ripple” is more than weird enough to impress, although I can’t sense a swell of likely Deadhead approval. I wouldn’t rule it out, though.
McCabe moonlights in a country band, Brush Prairie. I think this may be behind the version of “You Ain’t Going Nowhere.” It is delightfully ramshackle in a “Three Wheels on my Wagon” way that scratches my itch to a T. If the Dandy Warhols ever take a “do you like our new country direction” path, I’ll be there to cheer them on. Finally, in this midset medley, it’s time for the mop tops. I’m not keen on “Blackbird” anyway, other than Julie Fowlis’ Gaelic take on it, and I don’t like this version. Too cozy, for all the attempts to render it otherwise.
Back then to core received territory, with Marilyn Manson. With lively drums and grindcore guitar to open “The Beautiful People,” it promises more than it ultimately gives, but it’s not that strong a song in the first place. The Damned’s “Love Song” is far more successful, with lashings of atmospheric noir to spook any number of horses. It’s both close enough and sufficiently distant from the original to make it a joy, whether or not it is etched already in your black heart. (Is it me, or am I hearing echoes of PIL’s oppositely titled song in there too?) The bonkers keyboard solo is worth the price of admission alone.
The New York Dolls seldom attract covers, and I wonder whether the lively “Jetboy” here might spark up both a trend and a reappraisal. With few frills, frills would have spoilt it, and you can never go wrong with liberal applications of feedback. The Cult again, up next, and their maybe best known song, “She Sells Sanctuary,” and it isn’t impossible their Discogs page is going to take a hit after this electronic Joy Division-alike march through the anthemic slinky ditty.
For the closing track, a reminder was needed of actually who Love And Rockets were, as “Inside the Outside” rang no obvious bell. With this band being an offshoot of Bauhaus made complete sense, if less wisdom, given the goth by numbers ambience duplicated here. I’d have left it with a round 16 tracks, however much the bluff and brusque bleep and booster spacey sound effects give retro appeal. Otherwise, all things said, Pin Ups is a thoroughly entertaining album, a project that can do this longstanding band no harm. Will any of these songs make Cover Me’s end of year best covers chart, I wonder. I’ll certainly be nominating a couple of them.
Pin Ups tracklisting:
Cherry Bomb (The Runaways cover)
What We All Want (Gang of Four cover)
Primary (The Cure cover
Kiss Off Violent Femmes cover)
Goo Goo Muck (Ronnie Cook & the Gaylads cover)
Rain (The Cult cover)
Straight To Hell (The Clash cover)
Sister Golden Hair (America cover)
Lay Lady Lay (Bob Dylan cover)
Ripple (The Grateful Dead cover)
You Ain’t Going Nowhere (Easy Chair) (The Byrds cover)
Blackbird (The Beatles cover)
The Beautiful People (Marilyn Manson cover)
Love Song (The Damned cover)
Jet Boy (New York Dolls cover)
She Sells Sanctuary (The Cult cover)
Inside the Outside (Love & Rockets cover)
