The idea seems simple, but lately it’s been spinning wildly out of control. Last year a bunch of contemporary country singers strutted their soft-rocking stuff on “Common Thread: The Songs of the Eagles,” and the album has sold an amazing 3 million copies. This fall there are tributes to satisfy every craving: punk hipsters do the Carpenters, Irish warblers do Van Morrison, country stompers do Lynyrd Skynyrd, alternative eggheads do Richard Thompson, headbangers do Black Sabbath. Some aim less for the revelatory moment between performers than for the marketing triumph of several fan bases for the price of one. Others seem so strangely conceived that it’s hard to believe they’re hitting any fan base. Neil Peart, the oft-soloing drummer from the prog-rock trio Rush, is sure to offend zonked teenagers and jazz lovers alike on “Burning for Buddy,” a tribute to Buddy Rich that sounds like a late-night talk-show band on too much Vivarin. Dennis DeYoung, former lead singer for Styx, proffers “10 on Broadway.” To hear the voice of “Lady” and “Come Sail Away” grafted onto “Summertime” and “Someone to Watch Over Me” is to enter a frightening new dimension in pop-music surreality.
Sometimes, though, the most bizarre juxtapositions actually work. If I Were a Carpenter (A&M) places overwrought masterpieces by the toothy ’70s brother-sister duo into the loving hands of alternative rockers who were obviously weaned on the stuff. Sonic Youth distorts “Superstar” into a feedback-driven portrait of a nervous breakdown. Mark Eitzel of American Music Club, one of the most dour voices in all of reek, pours every ounce of drama he can muster into “Goodbye to Love.” “If I Were a Carpenter” banks on the fact that inside every twentysomething lurks an 8-year-old fan of “Rainy Days and Mondays.” “Sonic Youth is not a band that is identified with catchy little tunes,” says Larry Hamby, an executive at A&M. “They don’t have a history of writing classically formed songs. But everybody grew up listening to them, everybody likes them, and this gives them an excuse to do it.”
Some tributes are more interesting for what they say about the songwriter than the bands who cover him. No Prima Donna: The Songs of Van Morrison (Polydor) may leave you thinking that Morrison (who co-produced) is a slightly scattered, eccentric fellow who perhaps needs to rein in his own intemperate visions. The album jumps jarringly from Sincad O’Connor’s ill-fated attempt at ’50s-style rock and roll on “You Make Me Feel So Free” to Liam Neeson reading a poem called “Coney Island” and the Irish Chamber Orchestra playing “Tupelo Honey.” Making up for the misadventures is a breathtaking version of “Crazy Love” by jazz singer Cassandra Wilson. Singing her heart out against a simple acoustic-guitar arrangement, Wilson makes the tribute game seem easy: just pair a brilliant singer with a brilliant song, and watch as genre definitions and generational boundaries fall away.
