Cover Lay Down

In my other life, I’m a middle school teacher; I spend most of my days surrounded by twelve year olds, trying to balance entertainment with mentorship, and curriculum with life lessons. Before that, I taught in a boarding high school, tutored gifted and talented kids in a tiny rural elementary school, ran a before-school program, and did public demonstrations at a science museum.

And before that, I was a dropout. And before that, I was a goofball, who needed a little good advice now and then, but couldn’t really sit still long enough in the classroom to make any teacher want to defend me.

But Mrs. Carter liked me, though I don’t know why. The way she looked at me – like I had something worth watching for – made up for the fact that I was always the understudy when we were picked for the school play, always the alternate for work with the poet in residence. I learned to rise to the occasion, and to focus on doing things well, instead of doing things best; I gained confidence in my abilities. And though after that year, I turned back into the goofball for a good long time, I never forgot Mrs. Carter. And I never forgot that look.

It’s a well-kept secret in educational circles that it isn’t just the good kids, or the smart kids who get voted “most likely to be a teacher”, who come back to school to sit on the other side of the desk (or in my case, to stand atop the desk and gesticulate wildly to make a point). We come from all the cliques, from the woodshop wannabes to the cheerleading squad, from the lit mag proto-hipsters to the band geeks. But I can’t think of any teacher I have ever spoken with who is not honored and thrilled and genuinely surprised when that rare student comes out of the woodwork to say “you mattered, and now I matter.”

A few years back, at a five year reunion, this kid came up to me, and thanked me. He said I was the one who changed his life; that now he was doing what I had taught him to do, and hardly a week went by where he didn’t think about what I had taught him.

And I looked at him, and smiled, and was secretly joyous. But all I could think about was that this kid was the goofball. The one who was always pushing the envelope. The one who messed around in film class, though he always came through with something pretty cool when the work was due. The one who spliced thirty second of a shower scene from a Penthouse video into his remade music video for Van Halen’s Hot For Teacher. And showed it on the day the Academic Dean came to observe me in my first year of teaching.

And then I remembered Mrs. Carter. And I thought about calling her up, and thanking her. But Mrs. Carter isn’t around anymore.

There are surprisingly few songs about the teaching profession which portray it in a positive light (though there are a couple of other memorable songs out there about teachers as sex objects, such as Police classic Don’t Stand So Close To Me and Rufus Wainwright’s The Art Teacher); of these, fewer still have been covered by folk artists. More common are songs about school as a part of adolescent or childhood experience — songs where the teachers are there, unmentioned, just hovering in the background. But as a teacher myself, I know that no classroom feels safe unless the teacher has set a tone that makes it safe. Even without mention, as long as curriculum and classroom exist, a teacher is always there.

Today, then, in celebration of National Teacher Appreciation Week (USA), we bring you a set of quirky covers of teachersongs, and some schoolsongs which touch lightly and broadly on our experience of the classroom, that childhood stew of fear and freedom where our personalities were transformed.

Together, the songs make a perfect soundtrack to a google search for that one special teacher who reached out and changed your life. Write the letter, send the email, make the call: let them know they made a difference today. You don’t even have to say thanks — just letting them know that you remember them, and that you turned out okay, is a rare and precious reward.

• Petty Booka, Teacher’s Pet (orig. Doris Day)
  (from Ukelele Lady; more Petty Booka here)

• Matt Nathanson, Starfish and Coffee (orig. Prince)
  (from For The Kids, Too; more Matt Nathanson here)
• Fionn Regan, Getting Better (orig. Beatles)
  (live on BBC Radio 1; more Fionn Regan here)
• Mark Erelli, Lonestar (orig. Lori McKenna)
  (Mp3 of the Month web release; more Mark Erelli here)
• David Wilcox, The Kid (orig. Buddy Mondlock)
  (from How Did You Find Me Here; more David Wilcox here)
• Cry Cry Cry, The Kid (ibid.)
  (from Cry Cry Cry; more here here here)
• Bree Sharp, We’re Going To Be Friends (orig. White Stripes)
  (website release; more Bree Sharp here)
• Jack Johnson, We’re Going To Be Friends (ibid.)
  (from the Curious George soundtrack; more Jack Johnson here)
• Art Garfunkel w/ Paul Simon and James Taylor, (What A) Wonderful World (orig. Sam Cooke)
  (from Watermark; more Art Garfunkel here)
• Luther Wright and the Wrongs, Another Brick in the Wall (orig. Pink Floyd)
  (from Rebuild the Wall; more Luther Wright here)

See also: Kate and Anna McGarrigle cover Loudon Wainwright III’s Schooldays

A small but select group of big names in the music world will be inducted into The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame this Monday. I’ve got a Single Song Sunday feature on oft-covered fellow inductee Leonard Cohen scheduled for Sunday, and I couldn’t find any folk covers of the theme to Hawaii 5-0, but to whet your appetite a bit, here’s a few choice covers of and from three other artists who will be strutting their way across the stage to get their due.

As songwriters and producers, Philadelphia soul pioneers Gamble and Huff had their fingers in the pies of thousands of songs; separately and together they’ve made 170 gold and platinum records, and you know a bunch of them, including the theme to Soul Train. They’re also one of the few major players known for celebrating the use of their music for remixes and as hip-hop beats. Here’s a few choice covercuts from their stable of songs. (Winehouse song removed, as it was not a cover after all.)

• Beth Orton, Ooh Child (orig. Five Stairsteps)
• Eva Cassidy, Drowning In The Sea Of Love (orig. Joe Simon)
• Keb’ Mo’, Love Train (orig. The O’Jays)
• Billy Bragg, When Will I See You Again (orig. The Three Degrees)

The roots rock of John (Cougar) Mellencamp transformed my childhood when a family friend who wrote music reviews for a national weekly gave me a copy of Scarecrow; up until that point, other than a few pop 45s, the only records I owned were Thriller and a used copy of the Bee Gees greatest hits. Today, every time I post a song, I’m paying it forward. Here’s two surprisingly well-done Mellencamp tributes to his folk predecessors.

• John Mellencamp, Gambling Bar Room Blues (orig. Jimmie Rodgers)
• John Mellencamp, Farewell Angelina (orig. Bob Dylan)

The wholesale reinvention which typifies Madonna, both as a musician and a cultural icon, is essentially anathema to the whole authenticity thing that practically defines the folkworld; as such, it’s especially hard to find earnest acoustic covers of Madonna songs. Neither of the two male coverartists below can keep from laughing at the sheer audacity of trying to take their live covers seriously. All three versions are lighthearted romps worth hearing nonetheless.

• Jack Johnson w/ G. Love, Holiday (orig. Madonna)
• Ryan Adams, Like A Virgin (orig. Madonna)
• Lavender Diamond, Like A Prayer (orig. Madonna)

We’ll be back Sunday with a short but solid set of covers of my second favorite Leonard Cohen song. Hint: it’s not Hallelujah.

Much of the subject material of kids music is lyrical fluff, and that’s not a bad thing: kids need all the playful silliness and sweet sleepytime nothings that hip moms and dads with heart can bring them. On the other hand, play and sleep alone aren’t enough, and kids ain’t gonna grow up by themselves. The bigger they get, the more we have to show and tell them the right ways to move through the world.

Thankfully, song is an especially effective way to pass along morals and messages. That’s partially because a spoonful of sugar really does make the medicine go down, I suppose. But it’s also because children see music as coming from everywhere. As such, using music to pass along values helps universalize a message, making it less about “Daddy’s way” and more about the right way to do things.

Folksong has a long history of carrying morals to and for cultures. That doesn’t make all folksong successful: as with all styles of music, performing songs which mean is much more difficult. Far too much kidsmusic that tries to say what needs saying ends up sounding sappy and preachy. Happily, a few musicians get it right, making something which manages to be both musically powerful and lyrically meaningful. The best songs of this type stick in the soul, planting valuable seeds which compliment our most deliberate parenting on our best days.

Today, then, some covered kidsongs which take a lighthearted approach to some very serious subjects, from inner life to external behavior, from the social to the ecological. Your kids may not notice the messages as they hear them, of course. But if the true affection that these modern singer-songwriters have for these old songs tells us anything, it is that years from now, these songs will be remembered. And that’s not nothin’.

• Moxy Fruvous, Green Eggs and Ham (orig. Dr. Seuss)
  Sadly defunct folkband Moxy Fruvous makes a popcult-heavy, anti-commercialist folk-rap out of this Dr. Seuss classic. A repost, and out-of-print, but relevant.
  Moral: How do you know you won’t like it if you won’t even try it?

• Ann Percival, I Don’t Want To Live On The Moon (orig. Ernie)
  If it were up to my littlest one, we’d never leave the house. This is her favorite song, and she always asks for it when we first get into the car. She likes Ernie’s original, but I think contradance chanteuse Ann Percival makes it more palatable for the whole family. From The Sweetest Hour, which is.
  Moral: The imaginative world is fun to visit, but there’s no place like home.

• Taj Mahal, Don’t You Push Me Down (orig. Woody Guthrie)
  A reggae beat, the classic kidsong rasp of bluesman Taj Mahal, and a message originally intended both to help kids learn how to play fair and, later in life, to feel justified in standing up for what they believe in. Via Sing Along with Putumayo.
  Moral: Leave your sister alone.

• Willie Nelson, Rainbow Connection (orig. Kermit)
  An especially poignant take on this old Muppet standard. I’ve got nothing against Dixie Chicks twang and Sarah McLachlan dreampop, but of all the covers of this song I’ve got kicking around, it’s Willie Nelson who really brings the fragile, shortlived nature of the subject to life.
  Moral: Wishes come true. Never stop dreaming.

• Rex Hobart, It’s Not Easy Being Green (orig. Kermit)
  I’ve posted this track before too, but it bears repeating. From The Bottle Let Me Down — kids like indiecountry, right? Bonus points: the lyrics are almost open enough for you to use this song to talk with your kids about “being green” in the more post-millenium, save-the-earth way.
  Moral: Celebrate diversity; be who you are.

• Jack Johnson, The 3 R’s (orig. Bob Dorough)
  This half-cover from mellow surfer and fratfolk god Jack Johnson is based on jazzman Bob Dorough’s old Schoolhouse Rock standard Three Is A Magic Number. Johnson gets bonus points for helping me sit through Curious George for the tenth time.
  Moral: Reduce, Reuse, Recycle.

• Dan Zanes, We Shall Not Be Moved (trad.)
  Dan Zanes remakes this old protest song with banjo and spunk; like Elizabeth Mitchell, Zanes knows how to speak to adults and kids about what really matters. Warning: side effects may include strong-willed children.
  Moral: Stand your ground. Together, we shall not be moved.

• Walter “Wolfman” Washington and the Roadmasters, This Land Is Your Land (orig. Woody Guthrie)
  Technically, this one isn’t a kidsong either. Kind of socialist, too. But I learned it as a kid, and so did you. And who wants kids who grow up thinking this land isn’t theirs to care for? From Funky Kidz, an amazing new compilation of classic kidsongs by a dozen of New Orleans’ best and funkiest; proceeds benefit music education in New Orleans and nationally.
  Moral: This land was made for you and me.

• Lynn Miles, Everybody Cries (orig. Jim Cuddy)
  There are a surprising number of songs out there which address this subject, but Cuddy’s is as comprehensive as it comes, and Lynn Miles makes a gentle yet powerful case for buying into the complexities, and growing into responsibility. I promise this is the last song I’ll share from the incredible kidfolk compilation Down At The Sea Hotel.
  Moral: Life isn’t always easy, but it’s worth it. Try, fail, and try again; I’ll always be there to hold you.

• Jerry Garcia and David Grisman, Teddy Bears’ Picnic (Bratton/Kennedy)
  An always-successful bedtime selection, given the teddy bear motif and the mellow voices and mandolins of Garcia and Grisman’s Not For Kids Only. But have you ever really listened to the lyrics?
  Moral: Teddy bears are scary. If you must go in the woods, bring a buddy.

If this list seems heavy on the Jim Henson and protest songs, it’s not just you. After all, like me, many of these artists grew up in the early days of PBS, back when kidculture refused to speak down to us, and our parents were just emerging from a feelgood sixties adolescence. We may have cut our hair since then, but the values we found in those old songs still matter.

So click on the links above to buy these albums direct from the artists and labels, just to show your kids how to best support the music that matters. And once the CDs arrive, play ‘em early and often. But take good care of them, too, so one day, you can pass them down to your children’s children. Because somehow, I can’t see the greatest hits of Barney or Dora the Explorer having this kind of credibility when our kids grow up to become folksingers.

I was planning on posting this entry for the Sabbath, but the snow’s getting deep outside, and in my rural area, that often means long-term network outages. Hope no one minds getting this “Friday” post a bit early…

Today we celebrate the holiday coversongs of Jewish-American songwriters, most notably the prolific Johnny Marks, who is best known for penning a holy host of non-canonical Christmas songs, and lesser known for being the head of ASCAP from 1957 to 1961.

Familiar carols written by Marks include Holly Jolly Christmas, which most of us imagine in the voice of Burl Ives, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, which is based on the story by Marks’ brother-in-law, and I Heard The Bells on Christmas Day, which Marks adapted from a Longfellow poem. He also wrote Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree; I was hoping to share some folkcovers of that song, too, but for some reason, I can’t find any. Wonder why?

I shouldn’t have to tell you about the artist formerly known as Cat Stevens. Though his albums haven’t sold much since his conversion to Islam in the late seventies, his songs remain firmly in the popular psyche, both as soft-oldies radio standards and as fodder for the interpretive skills of newer generations. Of the latter, the best cuts include those from the popworld, and they tend to hit the charts about once a decade; depending on who you ask, these might include 10,000 Maniacs rockin’ cover of Peace Train, and Sheryl Crow’s recent chartbusting re-remake of The First Cut Is The Deepest.

Though I saw 10,000 Maniacs in the right era to have seen their Peace Train live, I was born too late, and came to folk rock too late in life, to be a true Cat Stevens fan. With a few exceptions — most notably his 2006 pop album An Other Cup, his first mainstream release since 1978, which includes a gorgeous, brooding, poignantly yearning cover of Nina Simone’s Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood — the music he’s produced since a near-death experience caused him to change his name to Yusuf Islam, while beautiful in its own way, is truly designed for less Western ears than my own.

And though his back catalog continues to garner recognition, the Western world hasn’t been kind to Yusuf Islam the man. His chance for a triumphant return to the global stage was stolen when he was bumped from Live Aid in 1985 after Elton John went long. He made the news in the late eighties for comments which were perceived at the time as support for the fatwa against author Salman Rushdie, and again in 2004 when the US refused to pull him from their no-fly list, which tainted this icon of non-violence with an unproven association with terrorist causes.

But the more I encounter his older songs through the performance of talented others, the more I appreciate his skills as a songwriter — and the more it becomes evident that an uncanny ability to put words and melody to peace, love, and a connection to the earth has always existed in Cat Stevens.

Such is the lot of the great cover: while it stands on its own as a performance, it also reminds us of the genius and truth of those that pen and first perform those songs. And such is the lot of the coverblog, too, for as long as there are still folks out there who think Sheryl Crow was covering Rod Stewart, it falls to us to set the record straight. What better way to do so than to celebrate those who, like Stevens himself, eschew the electric guitar wail, preferring instead to find the simple, melodic core of these songs, that quiet, spiritual peace which made them beautiful and memorable in the first place?

Today, then, the folkworld’s best stripped-down Cat Stevens covers, which expose the heart of song and songwriter through the acoustic and the slow. And bonus songs: the aforementioned Cat-as-Yusuf cover of Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood, which serves as a powerful response to a Western world from an Islamic ambassador of peace who has himself been misunderstood, and a sweet solo acoustic cover of Where Do The Children Play from Jack Johnson woven skillfully into one of his own. You won’t hear these songs on the radio, but you’ll be glad you heard them.

• Kristen Hersh, Trouble
• Gary Jules, How Can I Tell You
• Eli, Morning Has Broken
• Johnny Cash w/ Fiona Apple, Father and Son
• Liz Durrett, How Can I Tell You
• The Holmes Brothers, Trouble

Yusuf Islam‘s 2006 An Other Cup is a stellar return to pop and circumstance well worth owning; keep reading to hear a choice cut, and get his entire catalog here.

Throwing Muse Kristen Hersh‘s majestic Trouble lends a modern indie sensibility to an old standard; find it on soloproject Sunny Border Blue.

Gary Jules brings his subtle orchestration and an uncanny Stevens-esque vocalization to How Can I Tell You on out-of-print all-cover Valentines Day compilation Sweetheart 2005: Love Songs.

Christian folksinger Eli bends Morning Has Broken — a hymn made famous by Stevens — just barely enough to sweeten it; thanks to Tim for promoting song and singer.

Johnny Cash and Fiona Apple collaborate to bring us a memorable, raw Father and Son retold through the haze of time. From Cash outtake collection Unearthed.

Liz Durrett‘s breathy-soft, tinkly How Can I Tell You is available from her website; pick up her three solo albums while you’re there.

Today’s genre-appropriate take on Trouble from rootsy folk/bluesmen The Holmes Brothers is available on the previously mentioned Crossing Jordan soundtrack, but you can and should buy their 2007 release State of Grace from Aligator Records.

Today’s bonus coversongs:

• Cat Stevens/Yusuf Islam covers Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood (orig. Nina Simone)
• Jack Johnson’s Fall Line segues into Where Do The Children Play

I’ve been a teacher for almost fifteen years, and a Daddy for five; I’m lucky to be able to live in a world where I can be with kids, and play. But other than a short period of time where my daughter’s favorite song was Andrew W.K.’s thrashpunk anthem She Is Beautiful, this means there’s a constant struggle in my house between what I like to call “that same damn circus record” and what the kids dismissively refer to as “Daddy’s music”.

But listen up, Dads (and Moms): when the kids demand more appropriate age-specific earcandy, we don’t really have to lose. In a world where an entire generation is trying to keep their cool in the face of diapers and snailspace trick or treating, you don’t have to listen to that pap that passed for kids music in the disco era. Or Barney songs. Or that awful, too-chipper CD of baby-fied classics your mother picked up at her local all-natural toy store (sorry, mom). There’s a brand new crop of kidsingers out there — a holy host, from Dan Zanes to a thousand younger artists — and they’re not afraid to get ‘em while they’re young.

For the indie and rock crowds, I suppose, this demand for “real” kidmusic does seem to have opened up a new niche market. But folk music has long carried the torch for the authentic in kidsong. My 1970s childhood was filled with acoustic guitar and rough-tinged voices on already-old records from Guthrie and Leadbelly, and newer acts from Peter, Paul, and Mary to Bill Staines. When folk music came back for the Fast Folk second wave, it brought along its sense of childlike wonder; the demand bought Grisman and Garcia and Taj Mahal a second round of folkfame, and made way for new acts, like the jamgrass-for-kids Trout Fishing in America.

Since then, as the new generation grows through its indie stages, our favorite streetwise musicians grow up and have kids of their own — and out come the guitars and the quiet, simple voices, calling up half-remembered favorites from a time when everything was simple and pure. Suddenly, everyone’s a folk singer.

Like ice cream comes in vanilla and chocolate, kids songs come in two primary flavors, the quiet and the silly — but there are infinite variations from creamy to nutty. Next week, maybe, we’ll get a case of the sillies, and need to shake it all out. Today, three generations of folksingers — oldtimers Bill Staines and Garcia/Grisman, fastfolker Shawn Colvin and bluegrass staple Alison Krauss, and a host of newer artists from the wide margins of modern folk — bring us a set of lullabies and resting songs for a quiet Sunday afternoon.

• The Be Good Tanyas, Oh Susanna (orig. Foster)
  Get Blue Horse. Because if americana rocks, and all the great indiefolk bands come from Canada, then Canadian americana has a coolness quotient of eleven point five.

• Jack Johnson, We Are Going To Be Friends (orig. White)
  It takes a special kind of genius to make the White Stripes accessible to kids. Johnson’s stellar acoustic interpretation of this tune is one of many golden moments on Sing-A-Longs and Lullabies for the Film Curious George.
• Elizabeth Mitchell and Daniel Littleton, You Are My Sunshine (orig. Davis)
  My favorite rendition of a favorite kidsong. Get Sing Along With Putamayo (or any of Mitchell and Littleton’s You Are My… series) for this and many other wonderful not-just-for-kids interpretations of classic kidsongs. Put in CD player. Sing along. Repeat at bedtime.
• Robert Skoro, Michael Row Your Boat Ashore (trad.)
  Skoro is an up-and-coming indieboy who has been compared favorably to the Shins; this mellow cut is from Down By The Riverside: An Album Benefiting Reuben Lindh Family Services. How come Minneapolis gets all the cool acts?
• Alison Krauss, Baby Mine (orig. Mrs. Jumbo)
  A little looser, a little deeper south: if the original was middle America, this one’s a train through a sleepy Georgia town, two in the morning and too hot to sleep. Off of A Hundred Years or More: A Collection.
• Jerry Garcia and David Grisman, A Shenandoah Lullaby (trad./Brahams)
  Mandolins and bedtime stars and a rough-voiced Garcia at the waning peak of his power segue into a slow, sleepy instrumental Brahams Lullaby with strings. Goodnight, sweetheart. Get Not For Kids Only.
• Rex Hobart, It’s Not Easy Being Green (orig. Kermit)
  All the cool dads are listening to recent Bloodshot Records indie-fave The Bottle Let Me Down: Songs for Bumpy Wagon Rides.
• Raine Maida and Chantal Kreviazuk, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star (trad./Taylor)
  A wash of sound and a ticking backbeat from alt-star Maida and folkrocker Kreviazuk make this almost-pop cover sing. From the exquisite and highly recommended benefit series For The Kids; the just-released Vol. 3 includes kidsongs by Rosie Thomas/Damien Jurado, Mates of State, Of Montreal, Great Lake Swimmers, and other indie darlings.
• Shawn Colvin, Seal Lullaby (orig. Wilder/Kipling)
  Kipling’s gentle nightpoem plays exceptionally well as a piano ballad. Colvin’s Holiday Songs and Lullabies is sweet and subtle in December…and all year ’round.
• Bill Staines, Home on the Range (orig. Higley/Kelly)
  Oft-covered New England folk icon and 1975 National Yodeling Champion Bill Staines plays us a fireside classic. From American Lullaby: Folk, Country, Gospel and Old-Timey Bedtime Songs, which includes great covers and great originals from a cast of legends and Grammy winners.

Click on artist/album names to buy some incredible music for the young and the young at heart. And remember, kids: buying music from the artist’s preferred source gives you peace of mind so you can sleep like a baby.