Unlike those who think there is, or should be, a single definitive version of each and every song, I tend to offer a curious and somewhat sympathetic ear to covers and remakes - especially new takes on golden era classics, and on more recently minted melodies that would be "standards" if the concept had survived the '50s.
Interpreting standards used to be more the expected than the exception. Great stylists like Frank Sinatra and Ella Fitzgerald built careers on them - and, of course, transformed many a song into a standard along the way. I've personally treasured remake-filled albums as diverse as Harry Nilsson's atmospheric "A Little Touch of Schmilsson in the Night" and David Bowie's "Pin-ups," an energetic nod to 1960s London, and was delighted (along with most everyone else, it seems) by the nostalgic successes of Linda Ronstadt and Natalie Cole.Still, we remain in an age that worships self-sufficient rock bands and introspective singer-songwriters. So the sudden proliferation of albums stuffed with tunes from the past is surprising. So are the performers. Sinead O'Connor essaying Rodgers & Hart? Michael Bolton emulating Sam Cooke? Robert Palmer surveying everyone from Cole Porter to Billie Holiday?
Whether you consider them tributes of indulgences, the three new collections all have to overcome a good deal of tradition and artistry to be considered truly successful.
SINEAD O'CONNOR; "Am I Not Your Girl?" (Ensign-Chrysalis-EMI Records Group). * * 1/2
O'Connor, who often seems provocatively perverse, is her own "girl," as much of the world knows by now, so the title's surely meant to be ironic. But the album itself is not. She, too, has musical roots, and this is her touch of the forelock (figuratively, of course; she hasn't got a forelock to speak of) to songs and performers that influenced her life and livelihood.
"These are the songs I grew up listening to," she explains in her liner notes. "They are the songs that made me want to be a singer. That's the `why?' "
With O'Connor in the spotlight, this project was destined to be, well, a bit odd here and there . . . as well as more emotionally open than is usually the case.
The arrangements - brassy, jazzy, big-band backgrounds by the likes of Patrick Williams and Torrie Zito - swing and sway. The accomplished Phil Ramone is the producer, with O'Connor. And the singer . . . is wispy, plaintively Irish-soulful and seemingly out of her league. But not entirely.
O'Connor ventures into songs like "Why Don't You Do Right," "Success Has Made a Failure of Our Home" (which provides the album's title) and "Love Letters," but despite the lush arrangements does not claim to be a Sarah Vaughan or even Ronstadt. She's not at all posing as a technically polished torch singer - rather, she's a new-wave re-interpreter working in an established form. You almost have to go into this collection with that in mind or not venture in at all.
"Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered" becomes a whispery chat with oneself, maybe just before jotting thoughts in a diary. The instrumentation on "Don't Cry for Me Argentina" is all-out Broadway traditional, but O'Connor's vocals are introspective. "Gloomy Sunday" is dismal, a searing paean to threatened self-destruction. And the touching folk treatment of "Scarlet Ribbons" gives the song eerie depth.
OK. She's not kittenish enough (surprise, surprise) to handle "I Want to Be Loved by You," made famous by Marilyn Monroe, and her confessional style just doesn't mesh with the big arrangements on "Black Coffee" and a few of the others. And we really needed that castigating "poem" tacked onto the album's end.
"Am I Not Your Girl" is an uneven collection, one sure to alienate purists and some unsuspecting fans alike. But, as with all Sinead O'Connor albums, gems are to be found here.
MICHAEL BOLTON; "Timeless (The Classics)" (Columbia). * *
I liked Bolton's remake of "Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay," initially thinking that Bob Seger was branching out in an interesting direction. "Georgia on My Mind" . . . not really. Ray Charles sort of set it in stone. And now we have an entire album of the singer Boltonizing - an appropriate new word - 10 songs from the past, mostly R&B hits from the '60s.
"Timeless" shows us his passionate style is not without precedent. "To Love Somebody" was an ideal choice to prove his case; the song was over the top even when the Bee Gees released it. Also appropriate is "Reach Out I'll Be There," on which he is joined by the Four Tops - although we were allowed to hear the intriguing Motown arrangement better back in 1966. Bolton's vocals bury the melody.
Bolton can be restrained, even stylistically subtle - he shows that's so in portions of songs like "Since I Fell for You" and "You Send Me." But on every track, from the 3,000th cover of the Beatles' "Yesterday" to the seasonal "White Christmas," he eventually lets loose his patented hyper-emotive, lung-busting blare, and you want to say, "Yikes, Mike! Does it hurt when you do that?" Lenny Welch kept "Since I Fell for You" silken and tear-jerkingly sad; Sam Cooke was smooth and sexy on "You Send Me." They didn't resort to pop-hysteria.
"I believe that a great song can live forever," Bolton observes. "This album is dedicated to the great writers and the great artists whose inspired performances have made these songs `the classics' they deserve to be."
Nice sentiments. And maybe he is introducing these selections to fans of a new generation. But in every instance they'd be wise to seek out the original hits to better understand why the songs are re-vered.
ROBERT PALMER; "Ridin' High" (EMI Records Group). * * 1/2
Of these three collections, Palmer's is the most eclectic, as well as generous, presenting 16 tracks ranging from Cole Porter's title number to Sammy Cahn and Jim-my Van Heusen's "(Love Is) The Tender Trap." Scattered in the mix are three Palmer originals.
Like Bolton, Palmer is primarily famed as a "belter," though of a different sort, growling out hits like "Get It On" (with the Power Station), "Addicted to Love" and "Simply Irresistible." But on "Ridin' High" he's more a toned-down crooner, a la Sinatra or Tony Ben-nett.
Which is the principal flaw. The individually peculiar throats of rock stars simply do not handle songs in the same way the classic crooners did. With guys like Rod Stewart, Bruce Springsteen, Palmer and Bolton, it's the rasp and raw power we appreciate. Their big, unequivocal voices simply don't, as a rule, handle phrasing and mood in the same way Frank and Bing could. But the great crooners almost surely would not have been top-of-the-line rock singers, either.
Having said that, Palmer shows potential, and "Ridin' High" is an entertainingly diverse album. "Love Me or Leave Me" is bluesy, with a big-band treatment that turns up again here and there. "Witchcraft" is catchy, if not as clever as Sinatra's. The singer is most animated on some of his own songs, like "Want You More" and "Chance," tailored to fit the album's retro feel. Billie Holiday's subdued "Don't Explain" is one of the best in the set, and "What a Little Moonlight Can Do" captures a New Orleans flavor.
Palmer is at his most vocally familiar on the blues number "Hard Head," featuring guitarist Johnny Winter. Carnie Wilson, of Wilson Phillips, pairs with him on Frank Loesser's "Baby It's Cold Outside," but the two are unconvincingly distant, as if in separate rooms - or on separate coasts. That's not a given with modern interpretations. Barry Manilow and K.T. Oslin made the same song an engagingly playful duet on Manilow's Christmas album a few years back.
RATINGS: four stars (* * * * ), excellent; three stars (* * * ), good; two stars (* * ), fair; one star (* ), poor, with 1/2 representing a higher, intermediate grade.