Attempting to cover a Beatles song is something of a double-edged sword. If you do it well, the credit is most likely to go to the song itself; most Beatles tunes are simply too good to fundamentally screw up. If the cover goes badly, YOU will get the blame for ruining a pop gem from one of the most prolific groups of songwriters to ever lay tracks on wax ? and the blame would probably be well-deserved. To reiterate, most Beatles tunes are simply too good to fundamentally screw up. So Beatles cover albums remain, surprisingly, one of the rarest commodities in a tribute-happy industry. Both John Lennon and Paul McCartney’s solo work have been the subjects of star-laden tributes, and the recently departed George Harrison is probably likely to follow.
While niche-y collections of the Fab Four’s group work are out there, the soundtrack to the recent Sean Penn/Michelle Pfeiffer film “I Am Sam” is one of the first major attempts by the mainstream pop community to tackle the catalog of arguably the most important rock group in history.
Thank God they don’t screw it up. Amazingly consistent, the “I Am Sam” soundtrack is both reverent and experimental, with almost every artist adhering to the essential feel of the original composition while still refracting it into their own personal light pattern. The best tracks on the record are those in which the song fits with the artist, and vice versa, not necessarily those that may look most interesting at first glance. Case in point: Ben Harper’s “Strawberry Fields Forever,” which should have been a highlight, is instead wobbly and awkward; Harper’s voice, usually one of his best resources, is simply not suited to Lennon’s surrealistic classic.
Similarly, Grandaddy’s alt-rock retelling of “Revolution,” while a noble attempt to add a modern spin on an old favorite, simply doesn’t work, embarrassingly so, further cementing the fact these songs do not need updating or “freshening up.” Howie Day attempts the same stylistic modification on “Help,” and fares only slightly better.
The artists who don’t attempt to take liberties, however, all put in solid, in some cases brilliant, performances. Aimee Mann and Michael Penn’s take on “Two of Us,” one of the great forgotten Beatles songs, wrapping their gentle, warm harmonies around the good-natured shuffle. The Wallflowers, who are criminally and consistently under-appreciated, rock through “I’m Looking Through You,” managing to retain both the song’s shuffling amble and bitter, cynical lyrics. The Black Crowes defy the odds and manage to rescue “Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds” from the rose-colored albatross of Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, the most overrated album in rock history. Paul Westerberg’s acoustic “Nowhere Man” turns one of Lennon’s best smirking condemnations of modern society into a tortured lament of broken spirits. Chocolate Genius and Stereophonics sound suitably soulful on “Julia” and “Don’t Let Me Down,” respectively. Even Ben Folds, one of modern rock’s most disappointing underachievers, shines on an abbreviated “Golden Slumbers.” Nick Cave’s reading of “Let It Be” closes the album, and Cave, ever the bizarre preacher/poet, leaves the listener with a resolute and slightly off-kilter rendition of the best existential hymn ever written.
The album’s highlight is, without a doubt, Rufus Wainwright’s “Across The Universe.” Wainwright, whose voice is as angelic and trembling as sonic compatriots Jeff Buckley or Teddy Thompson, finds the deep, mystic soul of John Lennon’s anthem to blissful stoicism, and wrings every bit of purity and emotional resonance from it. It is a performance that has no equal anywhere on the album, and is the first song of 2002 to occupy a memorable space on the map.
The remainder of the album is all passable and completely uninteresting. Sarah McLachlan, Eddie Vedder, Sheryl Crow, The Vines and Heather Nova don’t embarrass themselves, but nothing in their performances rises above the comfortably mediocre.
Luckily, as a whole, I Am Sam?s soundtrack doesn’t descend permanently into this territory. Despite a few missteps (notably Harper and Grandaddy), the performances of folks like Wainwright and Westerberg more than make up for any of the soundtrack’s deficiencies. It’s not really much more than all-star karaoke, but it’s of the highest possible quality. The best versions of these songs are, of course, on Beatles records, and it’s unlikely that any of the participating artists on this album would tell you any different, but that’s not really a fair comparison. This album stands as a solid and successful attempt to do the nearly impossible.
