Potentially treacherous affairs, these 'covers' albums, y'know. Having been on the receiving end of dodgy 'tribute' albums allegedly in homage to everyone from The Beatles to The Smiths, I've learned to duck and cover quickly by now and give a wide berth to artists keen to pollute our world with their godawful re-moulds of the songs that set them on the road to fame and fortune. I could go on, of course, but instead I'll leave you to mull this over with four words that made the world quake: Duran Duran - 'Thank You'.
Chilling, I'm sure you'll agree. Thankfully, though, there are still artists out there capable of re-interpreting earth-shatteringly brilliant songs and instilling them with a fresh sense of wonder. One of this rare breed is surely JESSE MALIN. A hugely gifter singer/ songwriter in his own right with an admirable work ethic, he's been tempting us with harrowingly beautiful, mostly piano-based covers of songs such as The Clash's 'Death Or Glory and Graham Parker's 'Three Martini Lunch' over the past few years and offered up a heart-rendingly definitive version of The Replacements' 'Bastards Of Young' on last year's 'Glitter In The Gutter' album.
So I guess Malin's been boiling up to the full-blown 'On Your Sleeve' for a while now, but - recorded in a lightning strike seven-day spell in NYC with trusty cronies like keyboard player Joe McGinty, bassist Tommy Furar and drummer Dan Hickey - the album commendably holds its' own and frequently showcases sublime re-inventions of songs you'd (as a rule) think only a lunatic would try to hold a candle to.
Described - too modestly - as "seven days of crazy fun, trying on other peoples' clothes in my own apartment" by Malin himself, many of the songs are easily recognisable as among the tunes that have helped shape Malin's artistic worldview. As you'd imagine, New York looms large and vivid for the most part with tracks plucked from the songbooks of the likes of Paul Simon, Fred Neil, Lou Reed and The Ramones along the way. Simon's 'Me & Julio Down By The Schoolyard' is playful and catchy; Neil's 'Everybody's Talking' is rippling and dignified (and can't fail to remind me of 'Midnight Cowboy') and The Ramones' 'Do You Remember Rock'n'Roll Radio?' is still a tough, four-square rocker, even when stripped of the Phil Spector overload that characterised the original. Malin's subtle udpate of Joey's lyrics ("will we remember the end of the '70s?/ will we remember the end of the century?") is also striking and entirely spot on in this context.
All the above seem like credible tunes for Malin to take on even on paper, but I confess I'd been harbouring... well, maybe not dread, but certainly reservations about him tackling Lou Reed's evergreen 'Walk On The Wild Side' and Sam Cooke's 'Wonderful World: both of which have long since become part of the wider public domain. Shame on me for my lack of faith, though, because the crestfallen, hangdog take of '...Wild Side' he works up is dead on the money and the brushed drums, teardrop vibrato guitars and tremulous Malin vocal inhabiting 'Wonderful World' ensure it's the album's absolute piece de resistance. OK, I grant you it helps that Malin could probably sing the phone book and still hit you in the gut, but the shimmering tenderness he instils in Sam Cooke's classic really is something to behold. It more than repairs the damage Shane MacGowan and Nick Cave previously inflicted on it, too. Quite a result.
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Elsewhere, Jesse applies NYC logic in his own inimitible fashion, imbuing a great, pared down version of The Rolling Stones' 'Sway' with the low-key synth and drum machine hiss that epitomised Suicide's best work instead of the weary decay and raggedly glorious Paul Buckmaster strings that adorned the original. The Clash's 'Gates Of The West' , meanwhile, is - like 'Rock'n'Roll Radio' - relatively fathful to the original, but it's the inverse of the original, with Malin savouring Strummer and Jones' lyrics ("out in the dustbowl, deep in the roulette mine/ or in a ghetto cellar only yesterday, there's a move into the future of the USA") with the bittersweet tang of someone who's lived the dream and stared from the inside out instead.
The 'contemporary' covers are minimal, with Malin tackling only The Hold Steady's 'You Can Make Them Like You' and The Kills' 'Rodeo Town' extremely successfully. The former cheekily nicks the "is she really going out with him?" intro from The Damned's 'New Rose' and is stripped down and engagingly vulnerable, while Malin's version of The Kills' 'Rodeo Town' brings out the Hitchcock/ Coen Brothers intrigue of the plot ("letting your ashes down the drain") and regales us with a searing slide guitar solo. Outwardly, both are less obvious source material, but equally beautifully realised: a compliment that's even more deserving where Malin's staggering version of Tom Waits' 'I Hope I Don't Fall In Love With You' is concerned. As with 'Bastards Of Young' and 'Death Or Glory' it's predominantly a piano-based lament and a lost and lonely serenade of serious repute.
Seemingly against the odds, then, 'On Your Sleeve' is an unqualified success. Yes, it's Jesse Malin's opportunity to wear his heart for all to see, but it's a big, talented heart and one we should cherish in this increasingly uncertain world. Y'see, when all the gimmicks are exhausted, it's still a case of both the singer and the songs in unison that counts when it's done properly. And when the singer in question is Jesse Malin that's a done deal.
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