Simon wrote the song while Garfunkel was occupying more of his time with his film career in Italy. Upon his return, Simon presented a two-verse song played on the piano with different lyrics.  Garfunkel like Simon’s demo, sung in falsetto, and suggested Simon sing solo. Simon insisted the song would be better served with his partner’s choir-boy voice, an insistence he would later regret; so the two began recording. In the studio, producer Roy Halee suggested a third verse and a climatic finish. Simon reluctantly agreed and wrote the last verse about his wife Peggy, who had noticed her first gray hair, “Sail on, silver girl.”

This song hit an immediate chord as you can see all three covers were released within a year or two of Simon & Garfunkel’s original recording. It’s not surprising because the song encourages performers and audiences to reach beatific states.

Roberta Flack’s version is quieter but no less beautiful than the Grammy-winning original version. What do you think?

Roberta Flack (1971)

A traditional Reggae approach for this untraditional song. It became his biggest hit in Jamaica and the UK.  What do you think?

Jimmy London (1971)

I’m certain transforming Pop into Gospel is second nature to The Queen of Soul, steeped as she was in this tradition. She might have been subconsciously drawn to the song as its title alludes to The Swan Silvertones Gospel hit, Mary, Don’t You Weep, “I’ll be your bridge over deep water…” What do you think?

Aretha Franklin (1972)

Baby Boomers and their children easily recall the mid-1960s pop phenomenon The British Invasion. They might not know how American pop artists were finding equal success in the UK at the same time, especially Motown artists. Among these acts, The Supremes recorded Bit of Liverpool, an entire album of covers featuring songs from The Beatles, Gerry and The Pacemakers, and The Kinks. Here’s their version of the biggest hit of 1964.

The Supremes (1965)

Bollywood is no different than Louis B. Mayer. Movies have always had a parasitic nature, relying on journalism, literature, and song for inspiration. While filming Janwar, the Indian production needed something peppy and contenpo. The latest thing was the Beatles, so why not take your inspiration from the Northern Song publishing company and hope they won’t notice one of their songs was being used without permission.

Dekho Ab To (1965)

It’s interesting how within four years music changed from bubble gum to LSD.

Moving Sidewalks (1968)

At the height of his powers, Rev. Al dipped this limiest of songs into hot, funky soul and this classic appeared.

Al Green (1971)

According to legend, performer and producer wrote the song in the studio in 15 minutes in response to her earlier hit D-I-V-O-R-C-E. Some interpret the song as reactionary toward feminism. I can’t agree, for the song’s narrative suggests men are flawed and pitiful. Never forget its famous dismissal of men, “…after all, he’s just a man.” It’s a powerful–bordering on Buddhist–statement for compassion of the all-too human. Just look at Tammy’s beatific expression near the end of the song in this live television appearance.

Tammy Wynette (1968)

The Blues Brothers slow things down in the red-neck bar.

The Blues Brothers (1980)

UK musicians love American country music, regardless of their style. To prove this point, I present Motorhead, whose metal bona fides cannot be questioned, and American punk-rock queen Wendy O. Williams. It’s a completely different take on the

Motorhead featuring Wendy O. Williams (1982)

This upbeat, more countrified–if that’s possible–version is my favorite cover done by the Dixie Chicks.

The Dixie Chicks (2000)

The song has the distinction to be a hit for three separate artists in the same year: Glenn Miller, Billy Eckstine, and Tommy Dorsey. All three played it as Bloom and Mercer intended, a romantic ballad. Ray Eberle’s, vocalist for Glenn Miller’s orchestra, and Billy Eckstine’s confident and silky efforts pale in comparison to Sinatra’s vulnerable yearning. His recording is light years from the ring-a-ding-ding swagger to come 20 years down the line. After hearing it, I hope you’ll understand why the bobby soxers got their panties in a bunch.

Tommy Dorsey & his Sentimentalists featuring Frank Sinatra (1940)

In the 1960s, the song became popular again with Pop and R&B artists, including a great, forgotten version by Brook Benton; Etta James; Jackie Wilson; Brenda Lee; Lesley Gore; and Ricky Nelson, who reached highest rank on the Pop charts with his version. I couldn’t find a version by Ricky’s dad, Ozzie, who was a famous big band leader during the Swing era. He must have recorded a version. Does anyone know?

Anyway, I love Ricky’s version. What he lacks in dynamic stage presence, he makes up with hiring James Burton, the Master of the Telecaster. Listen to that twang!

Ricky Nelson (1963)

Without Bow Wow Wow, you could argue, Vivienne Westwood would have been a force in fashion. Although, you might not have Bow Wow Wow without Westwood. They were created by English Svengali Malcolm McLaren to showcase his girlfriend’s clothes. According to Legend, McLaren got tired of Adam Ant’s diva escapades, fired him, got guitarist Matthew Ashman to seduce 14-year-old Annabella who hung around the shop, and formed Bow Wow Wow. While they’re remembered for a couple of early 80s hits, the band became much more influential than they, or McLaren could have imagined.

Bow Wow Wow (1982)

First off, Zooey is sweetly pretty; and I want to protect her. Now, M. Ward and Zooey Daschanel aim to recreate the West Coast sounds of their youths. This acoustic version follows the train driving rhythm first used by Ricky Nelson and subsequent Pop stars; plus Zooey’s sweet, girl-next-door vocals.

She & Him (2010)

Other notable cover versions you might want to hear are by Jo Stafford, Johnny Hartman, Doris Day with the Andre Previn Trio, Elvis,and Stacey Kent.

The name Agustín Lara is as familiar to Spanish speakers as George Gershwin is to English speakers. He wrote 700+ songs on the every imaginable subject, but he’s best know for the love songs, boleros, he wrote for his many mistresses and wives.

He wrote Noche de Ronda for his then wife Maria Felix, Queen of the Mexican Cinema. She was a very famous actress with a cruel beauty. Each generation has an actress of her type. For me, some may argue for Angelina Jolie. For this generation, I’d pick Megan Fox.

In the song, a lover rushes anxiously to the balcony believing to hear the beloved’s footsteps; unfortunately, it’s only the night watch. The lover is broken-hearted at the thought the beloved will never show.

Agustin Lara (1935)

A song doesn’t exist that can’t be improved by a Cuban big brass sweep and conga keeping time. Here’s Machito’s great cover of this classic song that’s meant to be played low and slow. It’s sung by his sister, who basically showed future Latin America singers how it’s done.

Machito Orchestra y Graciela (1953)

This is my favorite example of the Mexican bolero ranchero. Solis recorded this song at Columbia studios in New York a couple of years before his premature death. He had to import the musicians because no one plays guitar like mariachis. The multiple guitarists get that muted rhythm by strumming the strings with a loose fists. The first few times you try it, it cuts your knuckles.

Javier Solis (1960)

We return with the most famous bolero trio Los Panchos and Eydie Gorme. The three men–two from Mexico, one from Puerto Rico–formed in New York City, yet their 40-year career turned into an international success. As for the Bronx-native, Eydie had recently turned her U.S. pop hit Blame It on the Bossa Nova into an international hit thanks to recording a Spanish version. Los Panchos visited The Copacabana to catch Eydie’s performance and fell for her dynamic presence. They asked her to record together. They became a huge cross-over hit.

Eydie Gorme y Trio Los Panchos (1964)

Despite modest chart success in the late 1950s and early 1960s, Johnny Kidd & The Pirates were incredibly influential, with good reason: the two-chord, pentatonic scale structure allows beginners to sound incredibly good.

For first-year guitarists, the song consists of arpeggios in the keys A minor & E minor; and the shakin’ guitar effect happens thanks to guitarist Joe Moretti sliding bassist’s Brian Gregg’s Zippo lighter across his guitar strings.

As for the song’s muse, Johnny has claimed a primal source, “When I was going round with a bunch of lads and we happened to see a girl who was a real sizzler we used to say that she gave us ‘quivers down the membranes’. It was a standard saying with us referring to any attractive girl…..I can honestly say that it was this more than anything that inspired me to write ‘Shakin’ All Over’.” The song reached #1 on the UK charts in August 1960.

Johnny Kidd & The Pirates (1960)

Chad Allan covered the song with his band, The Expressions, who would eventually become The Guess Who. The song’s power and simplicity sent it to #1 on the Canadian pop charts, and became a mainstay of The Guess Who live sets. This version entered the US charts reaching #22. It’s very faithful to the original; however, the shakin’ effect is thanks to a Bigsby vibrato throughout the song. Also, Chad Allan’s performance has a more desperate need for release from his unrequited conquest.

Chad Allan & The Expressions (1965)

Considered by many to be the greatest live album, Live at Leeds by The Who shows them at their bombastic best. The song’s dramatic effect is pushed by their 1970s narcissism, but it might be the best version of this song.

The Who (1970)

The Crystals released it as a single in September 1963, and it became their signature song. They peaked on the US charts at #6, but fared far better on the UK charts at #1. Since The Crystals were made up of whoever was in the studio at the time, Dolores “LaLa” Brooks received the duty to sing lead vocals. Had she not been late that morning, the honor would have gone to Darlene Love. Regardless, LaLa does another great job, as when she sang lead on De Do Run Run earlier the same year.

The Crystals (1963)

Brian Wilson’s love of The Wall of Sound is obvious. However, his early career is riddled with bold-faced stealing of other composers’ works (Chuck Berry, Bo Diddley, et al). This recording is an example of the former and a smidge of the latter.

Wilson switched the gender focus to a male protagonist and changed the title to Then I Kissed Her. Also, it’s one of those rare instances where neither Brian nor Mike Love sing the lead–he let Al Jardine work his Elfan magic on the recording.

The Beach Boys (1965)

Proving again that he is Master of the Cover Song, Springsteen opens his St. Louis show with this classic and brings the house down before he even starts.

Bruce Springsteen (2008)

Blackwell, an executive at Specialty Records, tells the story that an influential DJ said he knew a Ms. Johnson, who had a song for Little Richard. She hoped he would record it because her Aunt Mary needed an operation. The song was actually a piece of paper with the words “Saw Uncle John with Long Tall Sally / They saw Aunt Mary comin’ / So they ducked back in the alley” on it. Blackwell knew better than to upset a DJ who played his company’s records, so he handed the sheet to Little Richard, who was upset to receive this task. The idea grew on Little Richard, so he wrote the fastest 12-bar blues he could and practiced saying “ducked back in the alley” so fast that people couldn’t understand him. He thought he found a way to stop Pat Boone.

The song was released in March 1956 and reached #1 on the R&B charts and #6 on the Pop charts. It has become a standard thanks to the rockin’ energy and boogie rhythm provided by the Creator and Innovator of Rock & Roll. Also, Boone recorded it but didn’t have the bigger hit this time.

Little Richard (1956)

A couple of years later, the Queen of Rockabilly, Wanda Jackson gave this boogie woogie blues a distinct country twang and scratchy animated mouse vocals. I’ve always been a big fan of Wanda and find her work to be exemplary.

Wanda Jackson (1958)

On that fateful day Paul McCartney was introduced to John Lennon, Lennon handed McCartney a guitar then asked him to show what he could do. First, he tuned Lennon’s guitar, which probably would have been enough to join the band since Lennon had no clue how to do that. However, McCartney wasn’t done. He began to sing Long Tall Sally. The rest is history.

Before Beatlemania happened, the Mop-tops received the honor to tour with Little Richard. I’ve never been able to find a Beatles’ set list for this tour, but I’m confident Little Richard wouldn’t stand for someone else doing his songs before he hit the stage. Anyway, this version’s energy is different yet fun.

By the way, the drummer in this video is session man Jimmy Nicol, who took kit duties for the European tour while Ringo was in hospital with tonsillitis.

The Beatles (1964)

Wayne Carson Thompson, a prodigious country music composer, wrote the song and sold it to American Sounds Studio in Memphis. No one wanted to record it, so it ended up at the bottom of the pile. Along comes newbie producer Dan Penn. The suits tossed him demo tapes and a recently signed band, The Box Tops. Penn tossed them the demos, told them to pick any songs they liked, but assured them they’d be recording The Letter first. Penn kept true to Thompson’s demo except Alex Chilton, Box Tops’ lead vocalist, had a gritty voice not the sweet high voice on the demo and Penn added a Hammond organ.

The Box Tops (1967)

Meanwhile, two sets of brothers, who met at The University of Michigan-Ann Arbor, were signed to a big label but released small selling records until they covered The Letter. After reaching #20 on the pop charts, Columbia had them record an album of covers using hits by Bob Dylan, Simon & Garfunkel, and The Doors. When you hear this version, you’ll understand why the brothers later found success by singing for bank and insurance commercials.

The Arbors (1968)

As a 1980s teen, my deep love for The Beatles was sequestered to the basement of my shame. I remember stinging ridicule from peers upon revealing my record collection, which contained The Beatles, Bowie, Blondie, and Elvis Costello. I did not care for Heavy Metal because that’s not what ‘XRT played. This popular Chicago radio station was four blocks from my home, where I grew up thinking everyone had a neighborhood radio station. Since it was in my neighborhood, it was my radio station; so I better listen.

One day, they played a song I recognized from Abbey Road, She Came in Through the Bathroom Window except it wasn’t Paul McCartney’s voice pouring out of the speakers.  I waited through two more songs until the DJ returned and flatly stated, “…Joe Cocker..” That was the end of that.

Awhile later, I was listening to my neighborhood radio station; and a piano, like one I never heard before, starts; a woman’s voice enthusiastically approves; the singer joins; and, lastly, the entire orchestra swells to make me understand what Emily Dickinson said: “If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can warm me, I know that is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.” Yes, indeed. Having this feeling is thanks to the arrangements by Leon Russell, who is too often overlooked by the public. He’s not hiding. He was a go-to session man for the diverse likes of Phil Spector, Herb Alpert, and the Rolling Stones–to mention just a few. In this version, Russell’s arrangement–a live wall of sound–makes Cocker’s gruff bluster complement the whole mood of the song.

Joe Cocker (1970)

I regret I know nothing about Washington; however, I’m always intrigued by the evolution of a song written by a country music stalwart becomes famous thanks to a one-hit wonder pop act then codifies into the Rock canon through the collaboration of an UK hippie and bearded Okie to reach an apex as a disco beat.

Deborah Washington (1978)

Bacharach and David wanted to increase their brand and bank accounts by collaborating with Richard Chamberlain, one of the biggest TV stars of the era. Chamberlain was no novice to recording. He had proved himself as a singer in both television and film roles and previous records were hits. Despite earlier success, the single was a dud. In fact, the B-side Blue Guitar was the hit; so the song was shelved.

Richard Chamberlain (1963)

A year later, Dusty recorded the song but didn’t release it until her 1967 US released album The Look of Love. Either Chamberlain’s warble was the distraction, or you are distracted now because you’re rubbing the fingers you sprained while rushing to mute the volume during Chamberlain’s version. Regardless, I hope you enjoy Dusty’s great singing and arrangement.

Dusty Springfield (1967)

Here’s the version everyone knows, thanks to Richard Carpenter’s arrangement. When The Carpenters were signed to A&M Records, they were mentored by the company’s founder Herb Alpert. According to Richard, Herb gave him the score, but Richard didn’t like it. What was he going to do? Toss it into his boss’s face? Anyway, Richard created two elements that have been popularly accepted as essential to the song: the opening piano section and over-dubbed trumpet in the bridge. The song shot to Number 1 on the Pop charts, won a Grammy, and was the biggest selling song for A&M up to that time.

Also, many people, including me, forget Karen Carpenter was a drummer, a good drummer. Here’s a wonderful performance with her behind the kit.

The Carpenters (1970)

The last interpretation is baby-making music, people, by Hayes and his studio band, The Bar-Kays. It was another component of Hayes’ annus mirabilis: this song reached Number 22 on the Pop charts, made the album a cross-over hit, and the Shaft soundtrack was about to be released.

Isaac Hayes (1971)