Sometimes people think something is a really good idea and then it just ends up sucking badly in reality. Take the Chevy Chase Show, sniffing glue, or Catholicism as examples. Another thing that should be ranked amongst these lamest of the lame is 99.9 percent of all tribute albums. Here’s this month’s pitch: “How about a tribute album with some of today’s hottest indie-rockers covering the entire Rubber Soul album for its fortieth anniversary?” Doesn’t sound like a terrible idea. “Oh, I bet that would be cool,” we’re tricked into saying. Too bad reality’s a bitch.
This entire album is one big “eh.” Either the songs did not need to be retooled or when they were, it really didn’t seem to do anything special for them. The Donnas kick it off with their interpretation of “Drive My Car.” Oh, and when I say interpretation, I actually mean exactly the same as the original except with chicks singing.
Low strips “Nowhere Man” right down to the bone highlighting their vocals over a snare and bass drum and a barely-there acoustic guitar, deleting one of the greatest melodies on the original album. Ben Harper takes a song so beautiful that it’s virtually impossible to screw up in “Michelle” and turns it into a dubbed-out reggae jam. Needless to say, he screws it up. Ted Leo’s uninspired interpretation of “I’m Looking Through You” sounds like a group of 16-year-olds dicking around with their reverb pedals in the garage while exclaiming, “Trippy, man!”
But, the uncontested prize for terribility has to go to the Fiery Furnaces. Given one of the greatest Beatles songs of all time, this experimental brother-sister duo turns “Norwegian Wood” into something so ugly and unlistenable that it boggles the mind. How this band has received so much acclaim in the past year is beyond me, and if I had to prosecute them for being over-rated, this debacle would be Exhibit A in my case.
Awards for minor successes go to Ben Kweller, who does a better job singing lead on “Wait” than Lennon did on the original. Given Ringo’s twangy country tune (and low point of the original) “What Goes On,” Sufjan Stevens appropriates the lyrics and turns it into a Sufjan Stevens song. Reminiscent of most of his miniature-opuses with orchestral swells and a backing choir, Sufjan makes this song interesting even though it sounds like one of his originals rather than a cover song.
Please avoid this record. If you were to buy it you would probably never find this album in your CD player more than four and a half times throughout your life. And kids, it’s okay to play Beatles songs in your bedroom, but if you happen to get famous, we’re begging you to leave it there.
