“It's better to fail in originality than succeed in imitation.”
- Herman Melville
Today is the birthday of Eric Clapton, born in 1945. What could I possibly say that hasn't been? In his early 20s, he was a member of iconic bands like The Yardbirds, John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers, Cream and Blind Faith. By the end of that period he'd become a cult figure with graffiti showing up on buildings in London stating “Clapton is God.”
Between his band after that, Derick and the Dominoes, and his solo work, he produced such classics as Layla (original and unplugged), I Shot the Sheriff and Tears in Heaven. He universally appears on everyone's Top-10 Greatest Guitarists of All-Time lists. He's played with everybody and done all there is to do.
The other birthday belongs to Tracy Chapman, born in 1964. She burst onto the music scene in 1988 with her song Fast Car. I'm about to go on a rant here. Forgive me. As a musical artist, Tracy Chapman is as unique as the Hope Diamond. She is completely unto herself in sound and style. There's been no one like her before or since. As a performer, she was, early on anyway, almost cripplingly shy, which I suppose added to her mystique.
The song that made her famous was as original as she was – a melancholy story from the perspective of a young black girl longing for a better future than the world she finds herself in. It's like an element on the periodic table; a singular thing in its own category.
Well, almost 40-years later, along comes some do-si-do, bro-country guy, one of those who is interchangeable with two dozen other drones, and remakes the song, which somehow…somehow, becomes a “Hit.” I've heard the arguments and justifications, “Tracy Chapman appreciated the tribute.” "Isn't it great? It introduced Chapman and the song to a whole new generation?" No! I reject those. It's a bland facsimile. It's non-fat milk to heavy cream. It's hamburger-helper at an inauguration dinner. I get hostile when I have the misfortune of hearing it somewhere, usually in some retail store over their stereo system. I cover my ears and go “La, la, la!” so I don't have to hear it.
It's the same way I feel about the guy, who shall remain nameless, who remade Dobie Gray's Drift Away. That too somehow made it on the charts. It has all the soul of William Shatner singing The Theme From Shaft. Just sad.
Stop it! Leave the timeless classics alone!