Various Artists
Just Like Heaven: A Tribute To The Cure
American Laundromat Records, 2009
By Allana Mayer
I don’t review compilations much. It’s one thing to mock the efforts of a musician or group of musicians, but to make an enemy of an entire record label? Dangerous. Luckily, American Laundromat is a label that, at the moment, produces mostly tribute albums — to Kim Deal and Neil Young, as well as a comp of high-school favourites (e.g., “Pretty In Pink”).
At any rate, all the scorn in the issue at hand is directed towards myself, for still being gullible enough to find a Cure tribute album worth a listen. Even with The Devics, Dean & Britta, and other familiar artists on the bill, it still says more about that hopelessly heartbroken subculture to which a part of me belongs. I saw The Cure perform on a late-night talk show recently. It worried me. They seem dated and aged in equal portions, and while I missed the initial outpouring of goth love for them back in the day, let’s just say that I have The Head On The Door on cassette. Still, at least I’m not totally stuck in the ’80s like American Laundromat is. (Then again, we might be at that point in time where people don’t have to excuse knowing all the words to songs like “Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now” or “Common People.” Yes? No?)
The best thing about these sorts of albums are the qualities of reimagination and reinvention that go into the tracks. In this respect I have to say that Just Like Heaven didn’t push the envelope. Most tracks simply capitalize on the twee aspects of the originals, implausibly making them even sappier and moodier. The Submarines’ “Boys Don’t Cry” is probably the best example of this, but almost all tracks share in the crime. Tanya Donelly seems to be taking the piss out of “The Lovecats,” while the Kitty Karlyle cover of “In Between Days” essentially strips the life from the song, rendering it irretrievable pop-punk garbage.
Elk City vocalist Renee LoBue seems to be singing out the side of her mouth, as though she’s either gripping a cigarette or has suffered a minor stroke, but their rendition of “Close To Me” gets seriously, charmingly shoegaze. Cassettes Won’t Listen’s “Let’s Go To Bed” at least gets bouncy and synthy, which is a nice change of pace, and Julie Peel’s acoustic “A Night Like This” cover is really lovely, mostly for the bass part — too bad every female vocalist on this comp manages to sound identical to me. For the most part, though, unimaginative covers abound, and any impressions the songs might’ve made are buried under a simple lack of Cure-ness. It might be that people were simply too chicken to fuck with the formula. How could anybody else do it better, after all?
Grand Duchy’s version of “A STrange Day” is unrecognizable from its namesake song. Unfair to generalize.