by Jochen Markhorst
This is the last edition of the series in which we shone a spotlight on a thriving, fascinating, and polarizing fringe phenomenon within Dylanology: the semi-professional cover artist. And more specifically, on a veteran from the southern part of a small country on the North Sea: Jan Barten from Breda, the Netherlands.
Jan: “We start off in a conventional way: piano, drums, Fons on vocals plus a few accents on the electric guitar. The bridge is underpinned by two new elements: the organ on the far left and the Korg ‘ping wave’ on the far right. It serves as a bridge to a distorted guitar solo. We finish with a false ending, followed by another guitar solo as the real finale.”
It is a remarkable skill – the skill of blending a film scene with a song in such a way that the image becomes etched into the collective consciousness of millions of viewers. There aren’t that many real hits, either. “Stuck In The Middle With You” and the torture scene in Reservoir Dogs, “As Time Goes By” in Rick’s café in Casablanca, The Doors’ “The End” in Apocalypse Now.
“The Man In Me” now also belongs to that exclusive club, and we have Joseph Henry “T Bone” Burnett III to thank for that – the “Musical Archivist” for the Coen Brothers’ 1998 hit film, The Big Lebowski (Burnett feels extremely uncomfortable with the usual job title “Musical Supervisor”, hence the choice of term). Since then, T Bone has achieved legendary status in the film world, including as a composer, and has amassed a wealth of Grammy Awards, Oscar nominations (winning once) and every other conceivable prize for his musical contributions to films such as The Hunger Games, O Brother, Where Art Thou? and Crazy Heart. He is also a much sought-after music producer, and his list of clients is no less impressive: Roy Orbison, Jakob Dylan and Los Lobos, to name but a few.
The direct link to Dylan goes back decades: in ’75 and ’76, Burnett performed with the Rolling Thunder Revue, where the skin-and-bones, towering Texan stood out not only for his grotesque appearance and swaying gait across the stage, but also for his behaviour on the road. Diary writer Sam Shepard notes that Burnett “has a peculiar kind of madness. He is the only one in the entire touring troupe about whom I’m not entirely sure whether he has control over his violent, dark side.” In an interview with Rolling Stone in 1983, the lead actor does recognise something of that image: “I could be mean and sarcastic (…) and laughed in the face of death.”
Burnett, however, pulls himself together; in the years that follow, he becomes a born-again Christian and, as mentioned, rises to the top of his field. The fact that the musical archivist then chooses “The Man In Me” in 1998 is not entirely driven by artistic considerations – Burnett also admits to having a missionary zeal: “New Morning is one of my favourite albums.”
That mission is a success. ‘The Man In Me’ doesn’t really stand out when it first appeared in 1970 on New Morning, tucked away somewhere towards the end of side 2. It certainly has a nice little melody, as Dylan would say, but it sounds a bit flat, the female backing vocals aren’t particularly successful and Dylan has a bit of a cold. And apparently the master thinks it’s enough; he doesn’t allow the song more than two takes, despite an audibly enthusiastic Al Kooper on the organ. After that second and final take, he spends the rest of the studio time mainly on the – really not all that complex – “Father Of Night” (eleven takes!).
In the 1970s, the song was already being covered here and there, and these were generally enjoyable renditions. Dylan would certainly have been honoured by his contemporary Lonnie Mack, who covered it early on (on the lovely, Band-esque album The Hills Of Indiana, 1971), as did the a cappella group The Persuasions (Street Corner Symphony, 1972). Particularly noteworthy is the version by the British reggae band Matumbi, who owe their breakthrough to Dylan – the band scored a major hit in 1976 with “The Man In Me”, which in turn inspired Joe Cocker to record a reggae version as well (Stingray, 1976, which also features a sultry, captivating cover of Dylan’s stepchild “Catfish”). Most fascinating of all, until Dylan’s own reworking in ’78, is the thoroughly crafted, kaleidoscopic interpretation by his comrade Al Kooper on his ambitious 1972 album A Possible Projection of the Future / Childhood’s End. Here, Kooper seems intent on coming to terms with the agonising frustrations he experienced whilst producing New Morning – that is, the original version of “The Man In Me”; look, this is what we could have made of that song. For Dylan aficionados, it may be a little overproduced, but Kooper is clearly in love with the song and crafts a sparkling, multicoloured piece of work.
Ever since The Big Lebowski, the number of covers has been increasing exponentially, and what stands out is a quality possessed by only a handful of Dylan songs: the song is almost impossible to ruin. Jim James, who previously managed to give “Goin’ To Acapulco” such an ethereal makeover, repeats that feat with his band My Morning Jacket. Ray Lamontagne sings, as is often the case, in a slightly too affected manner, but his interpretation does feature an appealing, understated, intimate arrangement. It’s a world away from the jumpy, energetic, trashy cover by the punk-inspired Los Angeles band Say Anything – the most remarkable rendition of recent years.
That is, until the 20s of the 21st century, when Jan Barten throws himself onto the song. Singer Fons – thankfully – resists the temptation to ruin the intro with that silly la-la-la slur-singing and lets the vibe sink in; it’s a lovely, foot-tapping, head-nodding, finger-snapping song.
Although, of course, as The Dude would say: “Yeah, well, you know, that’s just, like, your opinion, man.”
Previously in the series
- Jan’s Take 1: It Takes A Lot To Laugh, It Takes A Train To Cry
- Jan’s Take 2: It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue
- Jan’s Take 3: 4th Time Around
- Jan’s Take 4: To Be Alone With You
- Jan’s Take 5: Ballad Of Hollis Brown
- Jan’s Take 6: I Want You
- Jan’s Take 7: I Pity The Poor Immigrant
- Jan’s Take 8: Tonight I’ll Be Staying Here With You
- Jan’s Take 9: You’re A Big Girl Now
- Jan’s Take 10: Sooner Or Later (One Of Us Must Know)
- Jan’s Take 11: Lay, Lady, Lay
- Jan’s Take 12: Forever Young
- Jan’s Take 13: From A Buick 6
- Jan’s Take 14: Can You Please Crawl Out Your Window?
- Jan’s Take 15: Girl From The North Country
- Jan’s Take 16: Ballad Of A Thin Man
- Jan’s Take 17: Queen Jane Approximately
- Jan’s Take 18: Father Of Night