I seem to be writing a lot about music lately. Funny, that. I mean, music isn't nearly as important as, well, Republican corruption, or Tom DeLay's new blog - wait, that's from the Department of Redundancy Department, isn't it?
My blog buddy skippy and I have had an ongoing friendly debate for a while; I contend that there are certain songs that don't need to be recorded again. Ever. They have been definitely performed, and unless you can do something so wildly original or creative as to stop time, then just move on, leave them alone.
skippy had shown me some exceptions, versions of songs that truly offer something new, a new reading or setting, and so I have agreed with him on some of them.
But here I stand my ground. No one, ever, can sing this song. Ever. Don't even try:
Now, take a moment to catch your breath. And I have a confession to make. I heard a band in L.A., around '70-'71, at the former Aquarius Theatre, called Group Therapy, that did "River Deep, Mountain High" pretty credibly. No idea who they were, where they went. White guys, Vanilla Fudge intensity, but no psychedelia, just a straight up reading of the song.
Here's another live version:
Here's another version of Ike and Tina, RDMH comes in after Oop Oop Pah Doo:
And a trip through YouTube makes my point: there are some pretty ill-advised attempts to cover RDMH.
Excep for this one, which is pretty reverent:
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