This weekend, Warren Zevon gets inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame after decades of eligibility. So, as the culmination of a week-long tribute to the 2025 Rock Hall class where we posted covers of every artist (catch up here), we are sharing a countdown of the 30 best Zevon covers ever.
Warren Zevon is one of those musicians that other musicians love, so he bats way above his commercial weight in cover songs. The most casual person probably only knows one Zevon song—and it’s appropriate this list is posting just after Halloween. Many music nerds, though, including many musicians, revere the full catalog. Artists way more famous than Zevon, from Bob Dylan to Bruce Springsteen, have paid tribute, as have a host of younger acts that consider him a primary influence.
So whether you always hum along with the air conditioner in “Desperados Under the Eaves” or just like aah-ooo-ing to “Werewolves of London,” dive into the Zevon catalog via thirty amazing versions of his songs.
Now that Soundgarden is officially in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, here’s a spotlight on great covers of their two of their most popular tunes.Continue reading »
In the Spotlight showcases a cross-section of an artist’s cover work. View past installments, then post suggestions for future picks in the comments!
I still remember the first time I ever heard Salt-N-Pepa. It was in 1986 (!) and I was in my room drawing pictures when the boasty-brilliant “My Mic Sounds Nice” came on the radio. It was a ridiculously goofy line from the song that hooked me: “The room temperature reaches a hundred and four, you can scramble eggs on the floor.” Hear it here.
That was the song that introduced me to S and P and rocketed me to the record store to grab their seminal debut album Hot, Cool & Vicious. I was born in Queens, grew up on Long Island, and back then was going to school in Manhattan. To me, Salt-N-Pepa just plain sounded like New York City. They even mentioned Babylon in the song, a Long Island town a mere ten miles from mine, and turned it into an insult: “I know you come from Babylon, and you know why? Cause you’re a babble-on MC”!
Some covers are more equal than others. Good, Better, Best looks at three covers and decides who takes home the gold, the silver, and the bronze.
Bad Company were one of the great “Oh-they-played-that” rock bands of the 1970s. With their heavy blues-rock guitar licks, infinitely-catchy hooks, and bombastic frontman, Bad Company produced a number of the decade’s most anthemic, fist-pumping rock hits such as “Feel Like Makin’ Love,” “Shooting Star,” “Ready for Love,” and “Rock ‘n’ Roll Fantasy.” However, since they came of age in an era before MTV or digital radio, countless listeners have lip-synced and air-guitared to their music on classic rock radio without having a clue who they were or what they even looked like.
Complicating matters even further, the band is a supergroup featuring members of several other great British rock bands of the era including Mott the Hoople, King Crimson and Free. With Free, Bad Company’s future lead singer Paul Rodgers and drummer Simon Kirke scored the hit “All Right Now.” So, they’re easily confused with other bands from the era in sound and swagger. They’ve just got that ‘70s rock band quality about them, for better or for worse.
This year the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame is inducting Bad Company, fifty-two years after the group’s founding. Earning this spot, they beat out artists like Phish, Oasis, Mariah Carey and the Black Crowes. The band’s selection is a testament to their longevity, but not necessarily rock fans’ ability to immediately identify the group when their songs hit the radio.
To honor their induction, Cover Me looks at three excellent covers of the one song that is most associated with the band, their eponymous track: “Bad Company.” It was the first song on side two of their self-titled 1974 debut record. It’s a power ballad, with a slow piano intro and a buildup to a climactic chorus. Throughout the decades, it has served as a showcase for singers, from rock to country to metal, all of whom want to live out their rock n’ roll fantasies and dreams.
One Great Cover looks at the greatest cover songs ever, and how they got to be that way.
In the documentary It Might Get Loud, Jack White is shown putting a record on a turntable. He sits, listening intently, as we hear Son House’s “Grinnin’ in Your Face.” After a few bars the camera zooms in on the record cover and we hear Jack’s voiceover: “By the time I was about 18, somebody played me Son House. That was it for me.”
He elaborates that the song has been his favorite since the first time he heard it, and he was taken in by the simplicity of the music. “I didn’t know that you could do that, just singing and clapping.”Continue reading »
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 »
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.