How artists choose to interpret another artist’s song is always interesting to observe. But for me, it is the song that they select that speaks volumes. Many will head for the obvious standards, but do we really need a new interpretation of “Yesterday,” “Summertime,” or “Hallelujah?” I think not. But anyone who picks Petula Clark‘s “Colour My World” obviously has a more refined taste and an ear for the exceptional. There is also something admirable in the deliberate side-stepping of the more obvious choice of “Downtown” in favour of this. And even though this 60-year-old, much-overlooked classic has been covered before, mainly in the few years after its original release, I’m sure many will be hearing it for the first time.
You also have to appreciate the blend of reverence and reverie found in the way that Mia Moravis and The New Bardots play it, retaining the 60’s-infused, perky, day-glo energy but also adding the requisite polish that comes perhaps more from the advances in studio recording technology than from any desire to drastically rewrite this fantastic piece of music.
The New Bardots might come from a more rock and roll background, but like all musicians worth their salt, as the saying goes, can turn their hand to any style and sound, and here the recreation of those (admittedly underpowered) semi-psychedelic sitar lines as a more strident guitar groove is perfect. The original’s sweeping, chamber-pop orchestral sounds are now more driving six-string deliveries; its once-booming percussion is now a more energized beat, and the whole thing moves along with more zip and vigour than before.
That said, the spirit of the original is still there; it still sounds like music made on the eve of the Summer of Love, a time when the peace, love, and understanding of the hippie ideal were starting to reach the mainstream. There is undoubtedly an essence of nostalgia running through it, but so too one of innocence and escapism, perhaps something we are in dire need of in the world today.
And then of course you have Mia Moravis’ voice, that neat blend of poppiness and poise, ranging from powerful choruses to more intimate verses, an echo of the past wrapped in a sound that is still infectious to the modern pop fan. And if you haven’t fallen for her voice by the time the song wraps up, that girlish giggle at the end will certainly get you.
This is how you cover a song—part re-invention, part tribute, a new take but never at the expense of the original. There was only one Petula Clark, so why try to be her? Better to just cast a light on her creative talents and by covering her songs, both bask in her sonic warmth whilst showing that you understand precisely what she was all about. And that is what is going on here.
Great work, people!
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