Cover Songs That Are Better Than The Original

I like cover songs. Sometimes I like the covered version better than the original. Like Casey James singing John Lennon's "Jealous Guy" on American Idol:

Just him and his guitar, and it was such an honest version. Such vulnerability open for the world to see is rare. Lennon struck that note as well, but I got the feeling that Casey was about to break down, whereas Lennon almost seems proud of his jealousy.

I also love Mika's totally fun, live version of the Eurythmic's "Sweet Dreams (Are Made of These)":

If you're surprised that I'm a huge Mika fan, you do not know me very well.

And despite being an even bigger MJ fan, I love the spunkiness of Alien Ant Farm's cover of "Smooth Criminal":

Lately, I've been working on a private project, just for myself, in which I tie the roots of early blues to later rock and roll, making connections that are not always openly acknowledged. Everyone from Led Zeppelin to Nirvana to punk bands to country singers have covered stuff by Blind Lemon Jefferson, Blind Willie Johnson, and, most notably, Lead Belly. CCR's "Midnight Special" is a direct lift:

One of the few times I like the cover more than the original Lead Belly. 

If you've got favorite cover songs, leave a link. 

On an unrelated note, B says the last song he would choose to hear before dying is Prince's "Purple Rain." Dude. That is so epic. I don't think I can choose one for myself that is more righteous. And I been thinking about this for a week.

So, if you know what song you'd like to hear last before kicking it, let me know. 

PS I know it's "I've been thinking..." but sometimes I write like I talk, which is pretty much loaded with slang, like I'm a kid from the projects instead of a middle class white girl from Connecticut.

The Fox is Black

It's been a while since I checked out The Fox is Black, except for following the occasional link via his Twitter account. First, I was bowled over by the redesign, and then I lost an hour, going through every post I've missed. Loves:

this lamp:

this (somewhat disturbing) photography -- check out the fourth one, esp. Double-exposures of nature and female models with an underlying beauty that is quite timely

and

this re-covered entry for Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone (but make sure to check out all the re-covered contests that TFIB runs; the Jane Eyre and Wizard of Oz contest were terrific)

Alice Donadoni really hit the nail on the head with an untraditional and unexpected entry that has old fashioned textbook appeal.


In particular, this cover of Arcade Fire's "Suburbs" by Mr. Little Jeans has been on repeat since I listened to it half an hour ago. Somewhat urgent despite the dreamy, gorgeous lyrical style, I just love it.

Suburbs by Mr Little Jeans

Listen, listen, listen.

If you haven't heard of TFIB before, seriously, go take a look around. Bobby Solomon loves design in all aspects of life, and it shows.

What? I should be writing? All right then...

Richard Godwin's Mr. Glamour--now out!

Lily's Friday Prediction will be closing its doors. As a writing exercise and community-builder, it's fostered the dreams of many for over two years. Lily has been a gracious and kind host, and it will be missed. If you want to get in on the last few Predictions and be a part of it, I suggest you check it out now.

  *

As you probably have already heard -- aren't I always last to the party? -- Richard Godwin's new novel, Mr. Glamour, is now out:

MR. GLAMOUR, Richard Godwin. Designer goods, beautiful women, wealthy men, a lifestyle preyed on by a serial killer.

A killer who is watching everyone, including the police.

Something dark is preying on the glitz of the glamour set.

The killer knows all about design, he knows what brands mean to his victims. He is branding their skins. And he has the police stumped. As Flare and Steele investigate the killings, they enter an exclusive world with its own rules and quickly realise the man they are looking for is playing a game with them, a game they cannot interpret. The killer is targeting an exclusive group of people he seems to know a lot about.

The police investigation isn’t helped by the fact that Flare and Steele have troubled lives. Harlan White, a pimp who got on the wrong side of Flare, is planning to have him killed. And Steele has secrets. She leads a double life. She is an interesting woman who pushes her sexual boundaries in private. She travels a journey into her own past and rescues herself. And in a strange way she is helped by the killer she is looking for. And Flare has some revelations in store.

As they try to catch a predator who has climbed inside their heads, they find themselves up against a wall of secrecy. The investigation drives Flare and Steele to acts of darkness. And the killer is watching everyone.

Contrasting this lifestyle is the suburban existence of Gertrude Miller, who acts out strange rituals, trapped in a sterile marriage to husband Ben. She cleans compulsively and seems to be hiding something from him, obsessed that she is being followed. As she slips into a psychosis, characters from the glamorous set stray into Gertrude’s world. And when Flare and Steele make an arrest, they discover there is far more to this glamorous world than they realised.

It is already picking up some great reviews. Advance praise for Mr. Glamour:

“Richard Godwin knows how his characters dress, what they drink and what they drive. He knows how they live--- and how they die. Here's hoping no one recognized themselves in Godwin's cold canvas. Combines the fun of a good story with the joy of witty, vivid writing.”
Heywood Gould, author of The Serial Killer's Daughter.

“Smart, scary, suspenseful enough for me to keep the light on until 3AM on a Sunday night, Richard Godwin once more proves to fans of crime fiction the world over with Mr. Glamour, that he is not only one of the best contemporary writers of the procedural cop thriller around today, he is a master storyteller.”
Vincent Zandri, author of Scream Catcher.

“Richard Godwin’s top-of-the-line psychological police procedural driven by its heady pace, steely dialogue, and unsparing vision transfixes the reader from page one.” Ed Lynskey, author of Skin In The Game.

“Mr. Glamour is a striking effort from one of the most daring crime writers in the business. It is the noirest of noir...and hellishly addictive.” Mike Stafford, BookGeeks Magazine.

“This first rate detective thriller will have you gripped from the start. Richard Godwin is an author not to be missed.” Sheila Quigley Author of Thorn In My Side.

Mr. Glamour can be bought now at Amazon.com, Amazon.co.uk, at all good retailers online and in stores in April. And you can find out more about Richard at his website

New: Take Her By The Heel now up at Nontrue

I've had a lot of bad sex in my time. I've also had some fantastic sex, but since I've written enough erotica to give Rick Santorum a heart attack three times over (yes, Mr. Santorum, women like porn), I thought it was time to give the other side its due.

Before you read Take Her By The Heel, keep in mind the following: I absolutely wrote a character based on actual people. Any resemblance to men living or dead is completely intentional.

And a piece of unasked-for advice: Skinny dip at night. Feel a guy up under the restaurant table. By all means, sit in the back row of the movie theater and make out during terrible movies, and learn how to unzip a zipper quietly. Put a big blanket down on the sand before you start getting crazy at the beach. Sand in sensitive areas is no fun. And above all, give as good as you get. Especially if you're sleeping with me.

This is the GTA version of "Dance Hall Days," but it's still awesome.

The Unexpected Goose; Why I've Got No Balls

Unexpected goose
in the backyard
shouts at the garage

*

Perhaps its goose positioning system went awry. That would explain why it was standing in the middle of a residential area with no water in sight. Why it found my garage so offensive, I've no idea. It is an ugly garage.

*

The Rumpus' Sugar (identity now revealed; I long for the days of anonymous masked superhero writer advice columnists again) had a saying: Write Like A Motherfucker. They emblazoned it on coffee mugs. At first, I was all, "YEAH! I'M GONNA WRITE LIKE A MOTHERFUCKER!" And then I petered off directly after that.

For some people, having big balls is the way to go when it comes to putting words on paper (or the screen, more accurately). Personally, I've always wondered about the whole testicle thing. I mean, how do men walk around with those things hanging there? It's this extra bulk that I don't understand. Don't get me wrong; I love balls. I find them extremely sexy. I just don't think they'd be comfortable.

I'm not sure how this turned into something about genitalia. Let's go back a bit. In both a literal and metaphorical sense, I don't want big balls. I don't want to run at the screen with a jackhammer and carve something bold. I don't want to blaze the truth of my existence anywhere. I don't, personally, want to be my own superhero.

This is how I like to write:

I learned that you should feel when writing, not like Lord Byron on a mountaintop, but like a child stringing beads in kindergarten -- happy, absorbed and quietly putting one bead on after another.
                                                                          -- Brenda Ueland

For years, I've felt like this. I enjoy writing when I'm quiet and happily putting the beads on the string.

So, here's the deal. There's a lot to learn about writing. I say "learn" not "know," because unless you're Mark Twain or Flannery O'Connor or Shakespeare, you will never know anything. And there's a good chance that even Misters Twain and Shakespeare didn't know as much as they'd like us to think. That Ms. O'Connor, however, was a helluva writer.

I haven't been keeping up on everything on the interwebz for months now. Too much "information." A real overload. Self-pub, e-pub, traditional pub, marketing, this one's got a new book, that one's got a new collection, this editor says this, that agent had this advice. I think I'll just keep on stringing beads, and maybe when I'm done, I'll have a necklace about on par with the construction paper garland I made for our Christmas tree in first grade. I'd be pretty happy with that.

PS What you should really take away from this is that I like balls. I REALLY REALLY LIKE BALLS.

PPS ;)

For A: In the piney woods, the dream stag awaits

For A.



My girl, my girl, don't lie to me. Tell me where did you sleep last night?

Also, this:

 via

Is that not astounding. Do you not want the deer to dip its head and swathe you in its branches. You do. Because that is what we all want in our dreams. While we are stroking the soft ears and feeling the blood in its veins.

I have no gypsies for you, A. They prefer to wait, to watch beyond the stone wall. For you to come out alone. There is more dancing inside their wagons than you can know. It will be all right. They have slippers for you, already made, with your name. They are made of winter light. They will dissolve in summer, but not if you wear them in the shadows.

Recording: My Entry Into the Nine Days of Madness

There's a belt with a padlock on the end of it, perfect for swinging against men's skulls. Just wrap one end around your fist, feel the weight of the lock, hanging there, waiting. Waiting.

Waiting for you to read Recording, the fifth entry in Chris Allinotte's 9 Days of Madness. My swing of the belt.

It's criminal how good the stories have been so far. Criminally insane.



P.S. If you don't like this one, just wait. I've got one coming out soon about my clit. I'm not kidding. And men, you better know where it is. Not mine, specifically. But as a general rule, you ought to know your way around your lady's private parts. WE WILL DRAW YOU A MAP IF NECESSARY. And Jesus Christ, is it necessary for some of you.

Those gentlemen who are smiling smugly right now, having pleased the ladies whose knickers they've got into, I salute you. Thank you so much. Believe me, the favor will be returned.

xx
RSB