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?
Continue reading »
First things first: don’t be so hard on yourself. Sure you know who Colin Hay is; he’s the chirpy singer from Men At Work, his slightly husky and agreeable tenor singing about a land where women glow and men plunder. A Scot, who found fame in Australia, he has lived and kept his career going in the US, a resident of Los Angeles for many a long year. Men At Work still exist, sporadically, with Hay the last man standing from the original line-up, but he also has a bevy of solo recordings, amiable and pleasant fare, with a great live show to boot. Now he’s got a new cover collection out, called I Just Don’t Know What To Do With Myself.
