Cover Me

Or, finding success the second time around

Sometimes an artist records a song that they have a great deal of faith in.  They just know in their heart that it's going to be huge.  They release it, and then...nothing.

Often, it's just a matter of timing.  Aerosmith's first 45 single, "Dream On", fell short of breaking into the Top 40 in 1973.  Re-released three years later after the band had put a couple of other hits on the charts, it went Top 10.

In some cases however, artists decide to take the radical step of actually re-recording the song, with the end result being the hit the original failed to be. 

Here are some of the better-known examples of that....

The Beach Boys released their TODAY album in March of 1965, and one of the tracks on it was a pleasant if relatively unremarkable ditty called "Help Me Ronda".

But almost immediately upon the LP's release, Brian Wilson began to reconsider it, and he came to the conclusion that it had the potential to be a hit single...but not in the version that was just released.  So as the group began recording songs for their next album, SUMMER DAYS (AND SUMMER NIGHTS!), Wilson had them cut an entirely new version of the song (with an 'h' now added to Rhonda's name, for some unknown reason).  This new take had a slightly quicker tempo and lusher instrumentation.  And Carl Wilson's guitar lick just pops right out of the vinyl.  Brian's instincts proved true, and this new version of the song, released as a single, peaked at #1 on the U.S. chart.

Of course, never one to be fully satisfied with his own monumental accomplishments, Brian Wilson later said that he had always felt he could have done even better with this song, and he wished he could record it a third time.

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Rick Derringer had briefly tasted success in the mid-Sixties with his band, the McCoys, but their fame proved fleeting.  By 1970 he found himself the second guitarist in Johnny Winter's band, and it was there that he wrote "Rock & Roll, Hoochie Koo".  It was an album track on Winter's JOHNNY WINTER AND, and it proved to be a popular tune when performed live in concert, although it wasn't released as a single.  It popped up again two years later on a live album by Johnny's brother, Edgar Winter, with Johnny and Rick guesting on stage to perform it.

By 1973, Derringer had launched a solo career, based in no small part on his belief that "...Hoochie Koo" was a hit single waiting to happen.  So he cut his own version, speeding it up a tad and adding backing singers, and voila...instant Top 40 hit!

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There was a time in the late 1950s and early 1960s when instrumental groups flourished and thrived in rock and roll.  In the Sixties, many of them were pioneering the 'surf sound', and one of the most successful were the Ventures.  Their very first hit, in 1960, was "Walk, Don't Run", a cover of an older jazz tune.  Their far more poppish version soared to #2 on the charts.

Then just four years later, the band decided to do a new version of the song (dubbed, appropriately enough, "Walk, Don't Run '64").  This take made use of the studio and recording technology in a way largely unheard at the time, with high-pitched organ riffs, and an early example of the fade-in intro.  In the midst of the first wave of the British Invasion, these 'old timers' managed to put this new take of the song into the Top 10.

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Considering from what direction you look at it, Dave Mason's career has either been a series of unlikely mini-successes, or else a string of partial failures.  His first big break was as a founding member of Traffic in 1967, but he quit the band shortly after the release of their debut album.  He rejoined them the following year about halfway through their second LP, for which he contributed a track called "Feelin' Alright?".  This song was released as a single in both Britain and America, but failed on both sides of the Atlantic...which was probably just as well, since Mason had again quit the band by that point.

He bounced around mostly as a session musician (with credits...albeit occasionally un-credited...on the likes of BEGGAR'S BANQUET by the Rolling Stones and ALL THINGS MUST PASS from George Harrison.  He was also slated to be the second guitarist...alongside Eric Clapton, of course...in Derek and the Dominoes, but for one reason or another he took a pass on that, and Clapton picked up Duane Allman instead), until he finally launched a proper solo career in 1970.

In the midst of this, Joe Cocker memorably performed "Feelin' Alright?" at Woodstock, and went on to put a version of the song in the Top 40.  That got Mason thinking that maybe he ought to give the tune another spin.

Mason recorded his take in 1973, and while it was not a hit single, it did become an FM staple, and remains popular on classic rock radio stations to this day, making it undeniably Mason's most popular piece of work.

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Honorable Mention

In 1962, producer George Martin was three-quarters satisfied with the new pop quartet he had just signed to Parlophone Records.  Taking the band's manager, Brian Epstein, aside, Martin told him that guitarists John Lennon and George Harrison, and bassist Paul McCartney were proficient enough on their instruments to play on the recordings, but that drummer Pete Best simply wasn't up to snuff.  As a result, when the Beatles came into the studio soon to record their very first single, Martin intended to have a session drummer there to take Best's place.

Epstein reasoned that Pete could continue playing with the group on stage, but that they would go on using a hired drummer for the records.  But that didn't sit well with John, Paul and George.  If they were good enough to perform in the studio, then they wanted their drummer to be that good as well.  Unfortunately, it was well-established that Pete was indifferent at best (no pun intended) at improving his playing, being perfectly satisfied to just bash away more or less in time.  As if his lack of dedication to his craft wasn't maddening enough to his bandmates, he and they were becoming estranged, as Pete more or less stopped hanging around with the other three, showing up for performances and then heading off with other friends while the three Beatles made their own way to a pub.  The writing was on the wall:  Pete Best had to go.

Strengthening this decision was the fact that the other Beatles already knew exactly who they wanted to replace him with.  Richard Starkey, a.k.a. "Ringo Starr", was widely acknowledged as the best rock and roll drummer in Liverpool.  He played steadily with the regionally successful Rory Storm & the Hurricanes, although he had grown dissatisfied that the group would never advance to greater success so long as Rory insisted they remain a cover band, instead of producing their own original songs.  Ringo would often jam with the Beatles after hours, and on a few occasions had even sat in with the group when Pete couldn't perform.  He got along famously with John, Paul and George, and envied the fact that they were making their own music.  So when they asked him to take Best's place, Ringo didn't hesitate, and he was there with his kit the very next day.  (Poor Brian had the unhappy task of having to inform Pete he was sacked, as the rest of the group made themselves scarce until the deed was done.  Best was shocked and saddened, but basically took it in stride.  His fans did not; one of Pete's more ardent female devotees slugged George Harrison, leaving him with a black eye for a few days!)

After a couple of weeks of daily live performances at the Cavern Club and elsewhere, Ringo knew their repertoire inside and out, and enthusiastically traveled down to London with them to record their very first songs, in EMI's Abbey Road studios.  But upon arrival, their shock was exceeded only by his disappointment when they walked into the studio and were informed that a professional drummer, Andy White, had been retained for the session; no one had informed George Martin that Pete had been fired and replaced, so he went ahead and did as he had promised, booking a session pro.  The Beatles argued that Ringo could play his drums as well, if not better, than anyone else, but Martin was dubious.  Besides, White would have to be paid regardless, so it made no sense not to use him.  The decision imposed upon the group, Ringo was unhappily relegated to playing a tambourine on the song.  The incident remained a source of great unhappiness and embarrassment for him for many years to come.

Flash forward 36 years, and Ringo Starr gets his revenge.  During the recording of his VERTICAL MAN CD, it dawns on Ringo that there was no good reason why he couldn't do his own version of "Love Me Do"...and, of course, get to play the drums on it this time!  And so he did, bringing himself closure at last.