Ward_05_05

We tend to get riled up by inconsequential things

By Caitlin Ward

Feeling Good
written by Anthony Newley and Leslie Bricusse

Birds flying high, you know how I feel
Sun in the sky, you know how I feel
Reeds drifting on by, you know how I feel

CHORUS
It’s a new dawn
It’s a new day
It’s a new life
For me
And I’m feeling good

Fish in the sea, you know how I feel
River running free, you know how I feel
Blossom on the tree, you know how I feel

CHORUS
Dragonfly out in the sun, you know what I mean, don’t you know
Butterflies all having fun, you know what I mean
Sleep in peace when day is done
That’s what I mean

And this old world is a new world
And a bold world
For me

Stars, when you shine, you know how I feel
Scent of the pine, you know how I feel
Oh, freedom is mine
And I know how I feel

CHORUS

I have often said my inherent and obsessive love of British-born New York-based producer Mark Ronson was inevitable. In 2007 he came out with a trumpet-laden album of cover songs (called, appropriately, Version). If I had to choose the two things that make me happiest in music, it would probably be trumpets and cover versions.

I have kept this love of Ronson a closely guarded secret. You might wonder why. He’s not exactly a household name in Canada, best known for the twin accomplishments of producing Amy Winehouse’s multi-Grammy winning second album, Back to Black, and also for having the good (or bad) sense to be the older brother of Lindsay Lohan’s on-again, off-again girlfriend, Samantha Ronson. Here, he’s no big deal.

Most people aren’t even sure who I’m talking about when I mention his name. Except my friend Ewan, who consistently tells me he’s overrated. I ignore him.

However, when I lived in England, I learned just how diabolical my love for Ronson’s music was. There, he’s overplayed and annoying: tabloid fodder on his own merits, rather than by association. I spent a great deal of time explaining that no, my love of trumpets and covers came first. Ronson just walked in at the right time. And by “right time,” I mean, “any time at all.” The trumpets have followed me for much of my life.

Of course, no one believed me. They thought I liked his suits. Or his hair. Or possibly his hair suits. I quickly stopped listening to these detractors, but even more quickly I kept my Ronson feelings to myself.

The English music snob’s dislike of Ronson stems not only from his ubiquity, but his tendency to massacre sacred cows. Or so these snobs might put it. This album, Version, covers not only pop divas like Britney Spears or contemporary bands like Kaiser Chiefs, but also Really Very Important Bands like The Smiths. Ronson’s version of Stop Me If You Think You’ve Heard This One Before (re-titled the less ungainly Stop Me) garnered a variety of death threats, directed both at Ronson and the cover version’s singer, Daniel Merriweather. Some songs are just too important to cover, apparently.

Perhaps it stems from my love of jazz as an adolescent, or perhaps I’m just not enough of an elitist, but to my mind a good cover is an art unto itself. It’s taking the threads of a melody and creating something new, and different, and beautiful. Not all covers are good, of course, but the ones that are good can transcend comparisons to the original if certain people would only stop being so pedantic about it.

I’ve been thinking about cover songs this week, obviously. Surprisingly, it had little to do with Mark Ronson. Or perhaps not surprisingly, as I live in Canada where most people don’t care who he is. Rather, these thoughts about covers came about when I was reawakened to my love of the song Feeling Good.

I’ve no doubt that most people have heard it. It’s been covered by everyone from Nina Simone to Michael Bublé to Muse to the Pussycat Dolls. My favourite is Nina Simone’s, but after listening to it several times I branched out via youtube to listen to various versions I don’t personally own.

Listening to different renditions of the song was something of an education, but more of an education was reading the comments attached to the videos. Each version had its own followers and detractors; people who didn’t realize that actually, the song’s from an ill-fated 1964 musical and it wasn’t written by Muse, or George Michael, or even Nina Simone; people who were unnecessarily passionate, insulting, and/or profane about their favourite.

I’ve yet to work out why anyone cares precisely that much about covers of songs, to be honest. It’s true that reading comments on youtube videos is often akin to being smacked with stupid, but I’ve also met people in real life who are just as passionate, insulting, and/or profane about different versions of songs as the people on youtube were.

I do think that as a species, we tend to get unnecessarily riled up about things that probably don’t deserve it. A song whose chorus goes, “It’s a new dawn / It’s a new day / It’s a new life / For me / And I’m feeling good,” should really not inspire the sort of vitriol it clearly has. The irony, as I see it, is that the song Feeling Good is about just that: feeling good. It’s about throwing off the oppressions of one’s life and recognizing one’s freedom as a creature of this earth unshackled by economic class or expectation.

So why didn’t everyone just feel good?

Ward is a freelance writer and aspiring documentary filmmaker based in Saskatoon. You can find her short bursts of insight and frustration at http://www.twitter.com/newsetofstrings.