Open to Interpretation
Other musicians inspired me to play, to sing, and eventually to write songs. At first, recordings served as textbooks – “hey, I think I stumbled on the keyboard part to ‘Lucy in the Sky’.” Or perhaps learning concepts of theme and variation not from Beethoven, but from Pete Townshend. Chromatic harmony from Stevie Wonder, etc.
Eventually, I took it upon myself to pull together pitches, rhythms and words to construct a song of my own. And from there, I gradually became a songwriter. But as any writer knows, the most terrifying object imaginable is the blank page. Many times, I found myself wanting to express and idea or emotion, but not being able to access the musical vocabulary to do so. Instead, I realized that I could often find the vehicle for this impulse in someone else’s already blackened page. And so I came to embrace interpretation as expression. Apologies to Susan Sontag, but I am absolutely in favor of interpretation.
For my undergraduate senior recital, I attempted to synopsize the entire spectrum of 20th century popular music while simultaneously crafting a narrative of a doomed romance that occupied my vulnerable 20-year-old heart. Overly ambitious? You bet. Entirely successful? Not even close. Genuine? Painfully so. I performed Dylan’s “Positively 4th Street” as an homage to Laurie Anderson. James Brown morphed to Gang of Four. And several proto-mashups formed the bulk of the show (sorry P. Diddy, you didn’t invent the mashup – and neither did I; Charles Ives was my inspiration) – Sly Stone’s “Thank You (Falletinme Be Mice Elf Again)” (done at the tempo of his reinterpretation, “Thank You (For Talking to me Africa)”) layered between and on top of the Beatles’ “I Want You (She’s So Heavy).”
The wholly confusing genre-bending ensemble I was in during that time performed a version of “I Heard It Through the Grapevine” as if a Kraftwerk 45 was played at 16 rpm. The first notice my post-college band Knots and Crosses received was a rave review in the Boston Globe regarding our radical re-think of the Stones’ “Gimme Shelter.” In other words, interpretation became my thing.
When Birdsong At Morning began to make recordings, we made it a point to include a cover interpretation on every CD we released. Six in all. And my most recent album, Currents, continues the thread with an expansive take on the Beatles’ “Love You To,” somehow both much slower and (eventually) much louder.
OK, so what is the appeal? After some cogitation, I think I may have hit on something. Interpretations are measured against what a listener already knows, and thus everything that is different in an interpretation is the work of the interpreter, and in many cases reveals more about the covering artist than their original material conveys. And the listener knows this because they are in on the interpretation. Actively making the comparison, noting the differences, and either enjoying the unexpected or perhaps thinking of alternative approaches that they might have preferred, initiating their own interpretations if only as internal experience.
By deconstructing a classic, an interpretation also demystifies the hallowed artifact. An interesting cover argues for infinite possibilities. And here’s the key – by opening up the material, a great interpretation invites the listener to participate. None of us get a chance to write “Hey Jude.” But all of us have the option to take a great song and make it different.
I’ve put together two Spotify playlists to illustrate. One is a set of songs I have covered. The other is a group of my favorite reinterpretations. In both cases, I start with the original and follow with the cover. I hope you are inspired to seek out other interesting interpretations, or perhaps even craft a few of your own.
Alan Williams Interpretations
Alan Williams Favorite Interpretations