SECTION FOUR: THE 1980s — WHEN OLD SONGS GOT A SECOND LIFE
31. “Crimson and Clover” — Joan Jett & the Blackhearts
Original: Tommy James and the Shondells, 1968
Cover: Joan Jett & the Blackhearts, 1981
The Original
Tommy James and the Shondells’ “Crimson and Clover” is one of the more unusual hits of the late 1960s.
The song was built around a hypnotic, slightly psychedelic sound rather than the straightforward pop-rock approach of some of the band’s earlier hits. The production creates a dreamy atmosphere, with echo, guitar effects and a deliberately hazy quality that fit perfectly into the psychedelic-pop landscape of 1968.
It was also a major commercial success.
The original reached No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100, making it one of Tommy James and the Shondells’ biggest hits.
There was nothing commercially unsuccessful about the original.
But Joan Jett heard something else in it.
Joan Jett’s Version
Jett’s 1981 version took the dreamy psychedelic pop song and turned it into a tougher rock record.
The basic melody remained recognizable, but the presentation changed dramatically.
The guitars became heavier.
The rhythm became more forceful.
Jett’s vocal gave the song a tougher, more rebellious personality.
Instead of sounding like a psychedelic-era pop group experimenting in the studio, it sounded like a rock band playing the song in a much more direct and aggressive style.
That was exactly what Jett was good at.
She had a talent for taking songs associated with earlier eras and making them sound like they belonged to her own generation.
Original vs. Cover
The difference between the two recordings is fascinating.
Tommy James’ version is dreamy and slightly mysterious.
Jett’s version is tougher and more physical.
The original feels like late-1960s psychedelic pop.
The cover feels like early-1980s rock.
Neither version destroys the identity of the song. Instead, Jett emphasizes the guitar-driven side that was somewhat buried underneath the psychedelic production of the original.
The result is a song that sounds much less delicate.
Popularity
The original was unquestionably the bigger hit.
Tommy James and the Shondells took “Crimson and Clover” to No. 1 in 1968.
Joan Jett’s version was not nearly as successful on the U.S. singles chart, but it became an important part of her early-1980s rock catalog and received substantial radio exposure.
That makes this a particularly good example of why popularity and quality aren’t always the same thing.
Jett’s version didn’t need to beat the original’s chart position to justify its existence.
It gave the song a second life.
It also introduced the composition to an audience that was much more familiar with hard rock and punk-influenced music than 1960s psychedelic pop.
Which Version Is Better?
This is a close call.
The Tommy James version has the advantage of originality, atmosphere and historical importance.
Jett’s version has the advantage of attitude.
Her recording makes the song feel tougher and more immediate, and her distinctive voice gives it a completely different personality.
For this list, that’s enough to make it worthwhile.
Verdict: Joan Jett wins the rock-reinvention battle; Tommy James wins the popularity and historical-impact battle.
32. “Venus” — Bananarama
Original: Shocking Blue, 1969
Cover: Bananarama, 1986
Shocking Blue’s original is psychedelic European pop.
Bananarama turned it into glossy 1980s dance-pop.
The transformation was enormous.
Popularity: Bananarama’s version reached No. 1 in the United States and several other countries.
Verdict: Bananarama wins for reinvention.
33. “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” — Cyndi Lauper
Original: Robert Hazard, 1979
Cover: Cyndi Lauper, 1983
This might be the biggest transformation on the list.
Hazard’s original was written from a male perspective.
Lauper changed the perspective and turned it into a celebration of female independence.
The production became bright, colorful and unmistakably MTV-era.
Popularity: Lauper’s version became a worldwide Top 10 hit and one of the defining songs of the 1980s.
Verdict: Lauper wins overwhelmingly.
34. “Mony Mony” — Billy Idol
Original: Tommy James and the Shondells, 1968
Cover: Billy Idol, 1981/1987
Tommy James made a fun 1960s party record.
Billy Idol turned it into a snarling rock song.
The guitars became bigger.
The attitude became harder.
The production became pure 1980s arena rock.
Popularity: Idol’s version reached No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 in 1987.
It also created one of the strangest coincidences in pop history: Idol’s “Mony Mony” and Tiffany’s “I Think We’re Alone Now,” both Tommy James covers, became No. 1 hits during the same 1987 period.
Verdict: Idol wins for sheer transformation.
35. “You Keep Me Hangin’ On” — Kim Wilde
Original: The Supremes, 1966
Cover: Kim Wilde, 1986
Kim Wilde took the song in a completely different direction from both the Supremes and Vanilla Fudge.
Synthesizers.
Electronic drums.
1980s guitar.
A darker atmosphere.
The result was aggressive synth-rock.
Popularity: Wilde’s version reached No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100.
Three completely different eras had now produced major versions of the same song.
Verdict: Wilde wins as the ultimate 1980s reinvention.
36. “Hazy Shade of Winter” — The Bangles
Original: Simon & Garfunkel, 1966
Cover: The Bangles, 1987
Simon & Garfunkel’s original is dark folk rock.
The Bangles make it faster, louder and more aggressive.
The guitar becomes central.
The harmonies remain.
It sounds like a 1960s song rebuilt for MTV.
Popularity: The Bangles’ version reached the Top 10 in the United States.
Verdict: The Bangles win for modernization.
37. “I Fought the Law” — The Clash
Original: The Bobby Fuller Four, 1965
Cover: The Clash, 1979
The Bobby Fuller Four made a polished 1960s rock record.
The Clash turned it into punk.
The tempo feels more urgent.
The guitars are rougher.
The entire attitude changes.
Popularity: The Clash’s recording became one of their best-known songs and a major punk-rock standard.
Verdict: The Clash win.
38. “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door” — Guns N’ Roses
Original: Bob Dylan, 1973
Cover: Guns N’ Roses, 1990
Dylan’s original is spare and reflective.
Guns N’ Roses turned it into a rock epic.
The song becomes longer.
The guitars become enormous.
Slash adds a dramatic solo.
Axl Rose turns it into arena rock.
Popularity: Guns N’ Roses’ version became a major international hit and helped introduce Dylan’s song to a massive hard-rock audience.
Verdict: Dylan wins intimacy; Guns N’ Roses wins spectacle.
39. “It’s My Life” — No Doubt
Original: Talk Talk, 1984
Cover: No Doubt, 2003
The Original
Talk Talk’s “It’s My Life” is one of the defining songs of the mid-1980s new-wave era.
Released in 1984, the song was built around synthesizers, electronic percussion and Mark Hollis’s distinctive vocal. It had a somewhat detached, atmospheric quality that separated it from the brighter synth-pop dominating radio at the time.
The lyrics also gave the song a more mature feeling.
Rather than sounding like a typical love song, “It’s My Life” was about independence and refusing to let other people dictate how you live.
The original was a success, particularly in Europe, where Talk Talk developed a strong following.
In the United States, however, it was more of a cult hit than a massive pop phenomenon. The song originally peaked at No. 31 on the Billboard Hot 100.
It would take nearly twenty years for the song to become a major American hit.
No Doubt’s Version
No Doubt recorded “It’s My Life” for their 2003 greatest-hits collection, The Singles 1992–2003.
By then, the band had already established itself as one of the biggest alternative-pop groups of the 1990s.
Their version took the basic structure of the Talk Talk original but gave it a much more modern rock production.
Gwen Stefani’s vocal immediately changes the character of the song.
Mark Hollis’s original performance is cool and somewhat detached.
Stefani’s is more energetic and emotionally direct.
The instrumentation also becomes more prominent.
The synth-driven foundation remains, but guitars, drums and a larger pop-rock production push the song toward the sound of early-2000s mainstream alternative music.
The result is recognizable as Talk Talk but unmistakably No Doubt.
Original vs. Cover
The contrast between the two versions is particularly interesting because neither one completely abandons the song’s original identity.
Talk Talk’s recording feels mysterious and introspective.
No Doubt’s feels confident and assertive.
The original sounds like an individual quietly declaring independence.
No Doubt sounds like someone making that declaration in front of thousands of people.
The arrangement is also an important difference.
Talk Talk uses the technology of the 1980s to create atmosphere.
No Doubt uses the same basic musical idea as a foundation for a much more aggressive pop-rock recording.
The cover therefore doesn’t simply modernize the song.
It changes its attitude.
Popularity
This is where No Doubt’s version becomes particularly interesting.
Talk Talk’s original was an important 1980s song, but its American chart performance was relatively modest.
No Doubt’s version became a major mainstream success.
It reached No. 10 on the Billboard Hot 100, giving the song a much higher peak in the United States than the original.
It also became a major international hit and received heavy radio and MTV exposure.
For an older song that had been released almost two decades earlier, that was a remarkable second life.
Which Version Is Better?
This is one where the answer depends heavily on what you want from the song.
Talk Talk’s original is more atmospheric and arguably more interesting from a new-wave perspective.
No Doubt’s version is more immediate, more accessible and more energetic.
For this particular list, though, No Doubt has the advantage because they demonstrated how effectively an obscure-to-mainstream 1980s classic could be brought into the 2000s without losing its identity.
Verdict: No Doubt wins the mainstream-pop battle and gives the song a bigger American commercial life; Talk Talk wins for originality and atmosphere.
40. “With a Little Help from My Friends” — Joe Cocker
Original: The Beatles, 1967
Cover: Joe Cocker, 1968
The Original
The Beatles’ “With a Little Help from My Friends” first appeared on Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band in 1967.
Ringo Starr sings the lead, giving the song an intentionally friendly, conversational quality. It was written primarily by John Lennon and Paul McCartney specifically with Starr’s voice and personality in mind.
The Beatles’ version is cheerful, compact and distinctly British pop.
It also serves an important role within Sgt. Pepper. Ringo’s vocal provides a change of pace after the elaborate opening material, making the song feel like a friendly conversation rather than another huge studio production.
The recording was not released as a single, but Sgt. Pepper became one of the most commercially successful and culturally important albums in popular music history.
The Beatles’ version is charming.
Joe Cocker’s version is something else entirely.
Joe Cocker’s Version
Cocker recorded the song in 1968, only about a year after the Beatles released it.
He essentially tore the original apart and rebuilt it.
The gentle pop arrangement disappeared.
In its place came blues, soul, gospel and rock.
Cocker’s voice is rough, powerful and highly emotional. He doesn’t sound like someone casually asking whether he needs a friend.
He sounds like he desperately needs one.
The arrangement starts relatively quietly before gradually building.
The piano and organ create a soulful foundation.
The drums become increasingly powerful.
The guitar adds blues-rock intensity.
Then Cocker’s voice takes over.
The song that had sounded friendly and almost playful in the Beatles’ hands becomes dramatic and deeply emotional.
Original vs. Cover
This may be one of the clearest examples on the entire list of an artist discovering a completely different song inside the same composition.
The Beatles’ version is about friendship.
Cocker’s version feels like survival.
The Beatles sound like a group of friends sitting around together.
Cocker sounds like a man standing in the middle of a storm and realizing he cannot get through it alone.
That isn’t necessarily because the lyrics changed.
It’s because everything surrounding them changed.
Ringo’s vocal is deliberately understated.
Cocker’s is explosive.
The Beatles use the song’s melody to create warmth.
Cocker uses it to create tension and release.
The original is pop.
The cover is soul.
The original is conversational.
The cover is almost spiritual.
Woodstock Changes Everything
Cocker’s version also became permanently associated with the 1969 Woodstock festival.
His performance there became one of the defining moments of the event.
That matters enormously when discussing the legacy of the recording.
The Beatles’ version was part of Sgt. Pepper, one of the most important studio albums ever made.
Cocker’s version became part of the mythology of Woodstock and the late-1960s counterculture.
His performance was wild and unpredictable, with Cocker’s distinctive physical movements becoming almost as memorable as the music itself.
The song suddenly had a completely different cultural context.
Popularity
The Beatles’ version was part of an album that became a worldwide phenomenon, but it was not a standalone single.
Cocker’s recording was released as a single in 1968 and became a major international hit.
It reached No. 1 in the United Kingdom and became a major chart success in several other countries.
Its association with Woodstock further increased its cultural visibility.
For many listeners, particularly those who came of age in the late 1960s and 1970s, Cocker’s version became the version they remembered first.
The Television Connection
Cocker’s interpretation also gained another life through television.
His version became the theme song for the television series The Wonder Years when it premiered in 1988.
That introduced the recording to an entirely new generation.
A song that had begun as a Beatles album track in 1967 had now passed through Woodstock and into late-1980s television.
That is an extraordinary journey for a cover.
Which Version Is Better?
This is one of the strongest cases on the list.
The Beatles’ original is warm, charming and perfectly suited to Ringo.
But Cocker discovered a completely different emotional dimension.
He turned a friendly pop song into a soul-rock performance about dependence, friendship and emotional desperation.
The Beatles’ version is the original.
Joe Cocker’s version is the reinvention.
Verdict: Joe Cocker wins decisively.
The Beatles created the song.
Joe Cocker transformed it into something that barely sounds like the same composition — and in doing so, created one of the greatest cover versions in rock history.
SECTION FIVE: THE COVERS THAT BECAME THE VERSION HISTORY REMEMBERED
41. “Nothing Compares 2 U” — Sinéad O’Connor
Original: Prince, 1984
Cover: Sinéad O’Connor, 1990
The Original
Prince wrote “Nothing Compares 2 U” in 1984 during an extraordinarily productive period of his career. He recorded the song himself, but he ultimately did not release his version at the time.
Instead, the song was recorded by Prince’s side project, The Family, and appeared on their 1985 album. That version attracted relatively little attention compared with Prince’s later work.
The original recording is interesting because it reveals how different the song could sound before it became the emotional powerhouse associated with Sinéad O’Connor.
Prince’s version is more restrained and soulful.
It has the fingerprints of his Minneapolis sound, with a polished arrangement and backing vocals that give the song a fuller band-oriented feel.
The songwriting is already exceptional.
But the performance doesn’t immediately scream “devastating.”
That changed when O’Connor recorded it.
Sinéad O’Connor’s Version
O’Connor’s 1990 version stripped away almost everything.
The arrangement is sparse.
The instrumentation is understated.
There is enormous space around her voice.
That space is crucial.
Instead of competing with the singer, the music essentially creates a frame around her.
O’Connor sounds completely exposed.
There is no attempt to hide behind a large production or turn the song into a conventional power ballad.
Her voice cracks.
She sounds vulnerable.
She sounds angry.
She sounds heartbroken.
And then there is the famous video.
O’Connor’s face fills the screen for much of the performance, making the recording feel almost uncomfortably intimate.
The result was one of the most emotionally powerful music videos of its era.
Original vs. Cover
Prince’s version sounds like a sophisticated R&B recording.
O’Connor’s sounds like a personal breakdown.
That’s the fundamental difference.
Prince’s performance is controlled.
O’Connor’s is almost painfully exposed.
The original emphasizes the composition.
The cover emphasizes the emotion.
Prince sounds like an accomplished songwriter performing a powerful breakup song.
O’Connor sounds like she is actually living through the breakup.
That distinction is why her recording became so much more famous.
She didn’t necessarily improve the songwriting.
She changed how the listener experienced it.
The Arrangement Makes the Difference
One of the smartest decisions in O’Connor’s version was restraint.
A lesser producer might have taken the song and made it bigger.
More strings.
More drums.
More backing vocals.
A giant climax.
Instead, the recording remains relatively sparse.
That gives O’Connor’s voice enormous importance.
Every small change in her delivery becomes noticeable.
The performance becomes less about musical decoration and more about the human voice.
That’s particularly effective because the song itself is about absence.
The empty spaces in the arrangement almost feel like part of the story.
The Famous Video
The video was equally important to the song’s success.
O’Connor is shown largely in close-up, with the camera refusing to distract the viewer with elaborate imagery.
The effect is intensely personal.
Her expression becomes part of the performance.
The video helped turn an already powerful recording into a major cultural moment.
It also made O’Connor one of the most recognizable artists in the world almost overnight.
Popularity
This is where the difference between the two versions becomes enormous.
Prince’s original recording was not released commercially during his lifetime, and The Family’s version failed to make a major impact.
O’Connor’s version became a worldwide No. 1 hit.
It reached No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100, as well as topping charts in numerous other countries.
It became one of the defining singles of 1990 and eventually became O’Connor’s signature song.
For most casual listeners, “Nothing Compares 2 U” is not primarily remembered as a Prince composition.
It is remembered as a Sinéad O’Connor performance.
That’s an extraordinary achievement for a cover.
Prince’s Reaction
There is an important twist to the story.
Prince was proud of the song and later performed it himself.
He also acknowledged the impact of O’Connor’s version.
But O’Connor’s interpretation had already become so definitive that Prince’s own performances were inevitably compared with hers.
That’s unusual.
The songwriter had written the song.
But the cover artist had established the emotional standard.
Which Version Is Better?
This is one of the clearest examples of the cover surpassing the original in cultural impact.
Prince’s version shows how strong the composition was.
O’Connor’s version shows what happens when a great singer finds exactly the right emotional perspective.
The original is a fascinating Prince recording.
The cover is a landmark performance.
Popularity: O’Connor wins overwhelmingly.
Emotional impact: O’Connor wins.
Songwriting: Prince wins — he wrote it.
Definitive version: Sinéad O’Connor.
Verdict
Cover wins decisively.
Prince wrote an extraordinary song.
Sinéad O’Connor turned it into a devastating recording that became one of the most recognizable performances of the early 1990s.
This is exactly what the best covers on this list accomplish: they don’t simply record someone else’s song.
They discover the version the world didn’t know it was waiting for.
42. “Make You Feel My Love” — Adele
Original: Bob Dylan, 1997
Cover: Adele, 2008
Dylan’s original is straightforward and intimate.
Adele’s version turns it into a piano-driven ballad.
Her voice emphasizes vulnerability and emotional directness.
The song became a key part of Adele’s early career.
Popularity: Dylan’s original was not a major pop hit. Adele’s version reached the Top 10 in the United Kingdom and became one of her best-known early recordings.
Verdict: Adele wins commercially; Dylan wins as the songwriter.
43. “The Man Who Sold the World” — Nirvana
Original: David Bowie, 1970
Cover: Nirvana, 1993
Bowie’s version is strange and theatrical.
Nirvana stripped it down.
The acoustic guitars create an intimate atmosphere.
Kurt Cobain’s vocal makes the song feel vulnerable.
The MTV Unplugged performance introduced the song to millions of younger listeners.
Popularity: Bowie’s original was never a major U.S. pop hit. Nirvana’s performance became one of the most remembered moments from their Unplugged appearance.
Verdict: Nirvana wins for generational impact.
44. “Torn” — Natalie Imbruglia
Original: Ednaswap, 1995
Cover: Natalie Imbruglia, 1997
Ednaswap’s original was darker and more alternative.
Imbruglia’s version was cleaner, brighter and more accessible.
The production gave it a polished late-1990s pop-rock identity.
Popularity: Imbruglia’s version became a worldwide smash and one of the signature songs of late-1990s pop.
Verdict: Imbruglia wins overwhelmingly in popularity.
45. “Girl, You’ll Be a Woman Soon” — Urge Overkill
Original: Neil Diamond, 1967
Cover: Urge Overkill, 1992
The Original
Neil Diamond wrote and recorded “Girl, You’ll Be a Woman Soon” early in his career, releasing it in 1967 on his album Just for You.
The song was an early example of Diamond’s ability to write romantic material with a slightly dramatic edge. His original has the polished pop sound of the late 1960s, with a smooth arrangement and Diamond’s youthful vocal at the center.
It was also a successful early single for Diamond.
The original reached No. 10 on the Billboard Hot 100, giving Diamond his first U.S. Top 10 hit as a recording artist.
It is a good song and an important part of Diamond’s early career.
But it would take another 25 years for the song to become associated with an entirely different musical world.
Urge Overkill’s Version
In 1992, Chicago alternative-rock band Urge Overkill recorded “Girl, You’ll Be a Woman Soon” for their album Saturation.
The difference is immediate.
Neil Diamond’s version is polished 1960s pop.
Urge Overkill’s version is dark, loud and deliberately sleazy.
The guitars become much more prominent.
The rhythm section has a heavier rock feel.
Nash Kato’s vocal gives the song a tougher personality, while backing vocals add an almost theatrical quality.
Instead of sounding like a young songwriter presenting a romantic pop song, it sounds like a 1990s alternative-rock band deliberately embracing the song’s slightly provocative character.
Original vs. Cover
The two versions reveal completely different sides of the same composition.
Diamond’s original is relatively innocent.
It sounds like a young man writing a dramatic love song during the late 1960s.
Urge Overkill’s version has considerably more swagger.
The guitars give the song a sense of danger that isn’t nearly as prominent in the original.
The basic melody remains intact, which makes the transformation even more interesting.
They didn’t need to rewrite the song.
They simply changed the musical environment surrounding it.
Diamond’s version says 1967.
Urge Overkill’s says 1992.
Then Came Pulp Fiction
The cover might have remained a well-liked alternative-rock track without Quentin Tarantino.
Then came Pulp Fiction.
Tarantino used Urge Overkill’s recording during one of the film’s most memorable sequences, with Uma Thurman’s Mia Wallace dancing at Jack Rabbit Slim’s.
The placement was perfect.
The song’s combination of old-fashioned romantic songwriting and dark alternative-rock swagger fit the strange retro-modern world of Pulp Fiction perfectly.
Suddenly, millions of people who had never heard of Urge Overkill knew the song.
And many had no idea it was originally written and recorded by Neil Diamond.
The movie essentially gave the cover a second career.
Popularity
Neil Diamond’s original was the bigger 1960s chart hit, reaching No. 10 on the Billboard Hot 100.
Urge Overkill’s recording did not approach that chart performance as a traditional pop single.
But its cultural impact was enormous.
The appearance in Pulp Fiction turned it into one of the most recognizable alternative-rock covers of the 1990s.
It became permanently associated with one of the most influential movies of the decade.
This is a perfect example of why popularity can’t always be measured simply by chart position.
Diamond’s version won the original chart battle.
Urge Overkill’s version won a different kind of popularity — cultural recognition.
Which Version Is Better?
This is a particularly interesting case because the original is genuinely good.
Diamond’s recording captures the song’s original era beautifully.
But Urge Overkill found a completely different personality inside it.
Their version is darker, heavier and much more memorable for listeners who discovered the song through Pulp Fiction.
The movie also changed the way the song was perceived.
What had originally been a romantic 1960s pop song suddenly sounded dangerous, sexy and slightly unsettling.
That is an enormous transformation.
Popularity: Neil Diamond wins the original chart battle.
Cultural impact: Urge Overkill wins, largely because of Pulp Fiction.
Reinvention: Urge Overkill wins.
Definitive version for many younger listeners: Urge Overkill.
Verdict
Urge Overkill wins the reinvention battle.
Neil Diamond wrote and originally popularized the song, but Urge Overkill gave it a second identity — one that became permanently attached to Pulp Fiction and the alternative-rock culture of the 1990s.
It’s one of the best examples of a cover not necessarily replacing the original, but completely changing what the song means to a new generation.
46. “Cum On Feel the Noize” — Quiet Riot
Original: Slade, 1973
Cover: Quiet Riot, 1983
The Original
Slade’s “Cum On Feel the Noize” is one of the great examples of British glam rock at its most exuberant.
Released in 1973, the song was built for a crowd.
The guitars are loud, the rhythm is stomping and Noddy Holder’s vocal is enormous. The famous chorus practically demands audience participation.
Slade already had a reputation as one of Britain’s biggest live bands, and the song captured that atmosphere perfectly.
It was also a major commercial success.
The original reached No. 1 on the UK Singles Chart, making it one of Slade’s biggest hits.
In Britain, the song was already a rock classic.
America, however, was a different story.
Slade never achieved the same level of mainstream success in the United States that they enjoyed in the UK.
That would change when an American metal band discovered the song.
Quiet Riot’s Version
Quiet Riot recorded “Cum On Feel the Noize” for their 1983 album Metal Health.
Their version took the basic Slade formula and turned up virtually everything.
The guitars became heavier.
The production became bigger.
The drums became more powerful.
Kevin DuBrow’s vocal is aggressive and unmistakably 1980s metal.
Instead of sounding like a British glam-rock crowd-pleaser, the song suddenly sounded like an arena-metal explosion.
The basic idea remained intact.
Get the crowd involved.
Make the chorus huge.
Turn the volume up.
But Quiet Riot gave the song a completely different musical identity.
Original vs. Cover
Slade’s version is raw, rowdy and distinctly British.
Quiet Riot’s version is polished, loud and distinctly American.
The difference is particularly obvious in the guitars.
Slade’s guitar sound has the crunchy, slightly rough character of early-1970s glam rock.
Quiet Riot’s guitars have the heavier distortion associated with the emerging American hair-metal scene.
Noddy Holder sounds like a rock-and-roll ringleader.
Kevin DuBrow sounds like a metal frontman.
Both performances understand the most important part of the song: the audience is supposed to be involved.
But they get there in different ways.
Slade sounds like a band leading a packed British pub or concert hall.
Quiet Riot sounds like a band playing an American arena.
Popularity
This is where Quiet Riot’s version becomes particularly important.
Slade’s original was a massive British hit, reaching No. 1 in the UK.
But it never became a comparable American hit.
Quiet Riot’s version changed that dramatically.
Released in 1983, it became a major U.S. hit and reached No. 5 on the Billboard Hot 100.
Even more importantly, it helped establish Quiet Riot as one of the biggest American metal bands of the early 1980s.
The Metal Health album itself became a landmark commercial success, eventually reaching No. 1 on the Billboard 200.
So Quiet Riot didn’t just have a hit with Slade’s song.
They helped turn it into an American metal standard.
Why the Cover Worked
The timing was perfect.
American rock was entering the era of MTV, arena tours and increasingly polished heavy-metal production.
Quiet Riot’s version fit perfectly into that environment.
The song already had an enormous chorus.
It already had the crowd-participation element.
It already had the attitude.
Quiet Riot simply gave it the sound American rock radio wanted in 1983.
This is one of the clearest examples on the list of an artist taking a successful song from another country and another era and finding a completely new commercial audience for it.
Which Version Is Better?
This is a very close call.
Slade’s original has more personality.
Noddy Holder’s vocal is legendary, and the roughness of the recording is part of its charm.
Quiet Riot’s version is bigger and heavier.
If you love glam rock, Slade is probably the winner.
If you love 1980s metal, Quiet Riot is probably the winner.
But when it comes to expanding the song’s audience, Quiet Riot unquestionably accomplished something enormous.
Popularity in the UK: Slade wins.
Popularity in the U.S.: Quiet Riot wins decisively.
Originality: Slade wins.
Heavy-rock impact: Quiet Riot wins.
Definitive version for 1980s American rock fans: Quiet Riot.
Verdict
Quiet Riot wins the reinvention and American-popularity battle.
Slade created the song and made it a British No. 1.
Quiet Riot took that already-great glam-rock party song and transformed it into an American metal anthem, taking it to No. 5 on the Billboard Hot 100 and helping propel Metal Health to the top of the album chart.
It’s a perfect example of what makes cover history so interesting:
Sometimes the cover doesn’t replace the original — it takes the original somewhere it never managed to go.
Karmin’s version is an interesting modern reinterpretation, but this is an example where the cover doesn’t actually surpass the original.
And that’s important for this list.
Not every cover needs to win.
Sometimes the most interesting comparison is discovering exactly why the original was so difficult to beat.
Bananarama’s “Cruel Summer” had already found the perfect combination of melody, atmosphere and understated performance.
Karmin changed the sound.
They didn’t improve the song.
47. “Bette Davis Eyes” — Kim Carnes
Original: Jackie DeShannon, 1974
Cover: Kim Carnes, 1981
Jackie DeShannon’s original “Bette Davis Eyes” is one of those recordings that makes you appreciate just how dramatically a great song can change in another artist’s hands. DeShannon co-wrote the song with Donna Weiss and recorded it in 1974, but her version sounds nothing like the worldwide hit that would arrive seven years later.
The original has a softer, more organic singer-songwriter feel. There is a light country-pop quality to the arrangement, and DeShannon’s vocal is warm and relatively relaxed. The song’s unusual subject matter and memorable melody are already there, but the recording doesn’t have the mysterious atmosphere that would eventually make the song famous.
Commercially, the original was largely overlooked. It never became a significant hit, leaving the song waiting for someone to discover a completely different approach.
That person was Kim Carnes.
Carnes recorded “Bette Davis Eyes” for her 1981 album Mistaken Identity, and almost everything about the song changed. The acoustic feel of DeShannon’s recording was replaced with synthesizers, electronic percussion, electric guitar and a dark, spacious production.
But the biggest transformation was Carnes’ voice.
Her raspy, smoky delivery gives the song a mysterious and almost dangerous personality. Instead of sounding like a clever 1970s pop song, it suddenly sounds sleek, seductive and unmistakably early 1980s.
The production was equally important. The bass line, keyboards and electronic percussion create a hypnotic groove, while the relatively sparse arrangement allows Carnes’ voice to remain the focus.
The result was enormous.
Carnes’ version reached No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 and stayed there for nine weeks, becoming the biggest U.S. single of 1981. It was also a major international hit and became the signature recording of her career.
The difference in popularity between the two recordings is staggering. DeShannon had the song first, but Carnes turned it into a worldwide phenomenon.
Even the song’s title became more widely recognized because of the hit. Actress Bette Davis reportedly loved the recording and was pleased that a song referencing her had become so successful.
What makes this cover particularly impressive is that Carnes didn’t simply make the original louder or more polished. She completely changed its personality.
DeShannon’s version sounds like 1974.
Carnes’ version sounds like the future.
Verdict: Kim Carnes wins decisively. DeShannon created the song, but Carnes discovered the sound, atmosphere and personality that turned “Bette Davis Eyes” into an enduring pop classic.
48. “Kids in America” — The Muffs
Original: Kim Wilde, 1981
Cover: The Muffs, 1995
Kim Wilde’s “Kids in America” arrived in 1981 as one of the defining pop-rock songs of the early 1980s. Written by Wilde’s father Marty and her brother Ricky Wilde, the song immediately established Kim as a major new artist. Its combination of synthesizers, sharp guitars, driving drums and Wilde’s youthful vocal gave it an energetic new-wave sound that felt perfectly suited to the beginning of the MTV era. The song reached No. 2 in the United Kingdom and No. 25 on the Billboard Hot 100, while becoming a major Top 10 hit in several other countries.
The original is polished but still has an edge. Wilde sounds young, confident and slightly rebellious, while the production creates that unmistakable early-1980s atmosphere. It became the song that launched her career and remains her signature recording.
Fourteen years later, The Muffs took it somewhere completely different.
The Los Angeles punk band, fronted by the late Kim Shattuck, recorded “Kids in America” for the 1995 Clueless soundtrack.
The Muffs didn’t try to recreate Wilde’s synth-pop sound. They turned the song into punk-pop.
The guitars became louder and rougher. The drums hit harder. The production became much less polished. Most importantly, Shattuck’s vocal completely changed the personality of the song. She could move between sweet melodic singing and her trademark punk scream, giving the recording an attitude that Wilde’s original didn’t have.
The biggest difference is energy.
Wilde’s version sounds like teenagers discovering the exciting possibilities of a new decade.
The Muffs sound like teenagers who have already discovered punk and are ready to tear the place apart.
The cover also benefited enormously from its appearance in Clueless. It plays during the film’s opening sequence, immediately connecting the song with the colorful, irreverent world of 1990s teen culture. The Muffs never became a mainstream band on the level of Green Day or the Offspring, and the Clueless appearance remained their biggest mainstream exposure.
Commercially, there is no contest. Kim Wilde wins easily. Her original was a major international hit, while The Muffs’ version was not a major chart single.
Culturally, however, The Muffs created something special. Their version introduced the song to an entirely new generation and gave it a punk identity that still holds up.
Verdict: The Muffs win the cover battle. Kim Wilde’s original is the bigger hit and the historically important recording, but The Muffs made the song tougher, louder and more fun. For anyone who discovered “Kids in America” through Clueless, their version may actually be the one that feels definitive.
49. “Always on My Mind” — Willie Nelson
Original: Brenda Lee, 1972
Cover: Willie Nelson, 1982
Brenda Lee’s version is a polished country-pop ballad.
Willie Nelson makes it intimate.
His slightly worn vocal gives the song a sense of regret that feels completely natural.
The sparse country arrangement leaves room for his voice.
Popularity: Nelson’s recording became a major country hit and crossed over to the pop charts, winning major awards and becoming one of his signature songs.
Verdict: Nelson wins.
50. “Loving Cup” — Phish
Original: The Rolling Stones, 1972
Cover: Phish, 1993–present
The Rolling Stones’ “Loving Cup” is one of the hidden treasures of Exile on Main St., the sprawling 1972 album that has come to be regarded as one of the band’s greatest achievements. The song was actually written several years earlier during the Let It Bleed sessions, but the Stones didn’t release it until Exile. Their studio recording was made at Keith Richards’ Villa Nellcôte in France in 1971, with Nicky Hopkins on piano and Bobby Keys, Jim Price and other musicians adding horns and percussion.
The Stones’ version is wonderfully ragged and soulful. Mick Jagger sounds loose and slightly desperate, while Richards’ guitar, Hopkins’ piano and the horns create that wonderfully messy Exile on Main St. atmosphere. It isn’t polished rock. It sounds like a band pulling together pieces of blues, gospel, country and R&B in a room and somehow turning the chaos into something great.
Commercially, however, “Loving Cup” was never a major Rolling Stones single. It was an album track on Exile on Main St., an album that itself was enormously important but whose individual songs weren’t all designed as radio hits.
Then Phish got hold of it.
Phish first performed “Loving Cup” in 1993, and it became one of their most frequently played covers. According to Phish.net, the song has been performed more than 150 times and remains a recurring part of their repertoire.
What makes Phish’s version so interesting is that they don’t treat “Loving Cup” like a sacred Rolling Stones artifact.
They play it like a Phish song.
Trey Anastasio and Page McConnell share the vocal duties, while the band gives the song considerably more room to breathe. The Stones’ recording is a tightly constructed studio performance with a wonderfully chaotic atmosphere. Phish turns it into a live rock-and-roll celebration.
And when Phish really stretches it out, the difference becomes even more obvious.
The band has performed “Loving Cup” in numerous contexts, including their famous 2009 Halloween performance of the entire Exile on Main St. album. That particular version added Sharon Jones and Saundra Williams on vocals along with horns and additional musicians, bringing the arrangement closer to — and in some ways beyond — the richness of the Stones’ studio recording. Phish.net specifically notes that the Festival 8 performance raised the song to another level with the expanded vocal and horn section.
There’s also an interesting popularity comparison here.
The Rolling Stones obviously win in overall commercial impact. Exile on Main St. is one of the most famous rock albums ever made, and the Stones are one of the biggest bands in music history.
But “Loving Cup” itself became something much bigger as a live song for Phish.
It has been released on several Phish live albums, including Live Phish 03, Live Phish 17, Live Phish 18, At the Roxy and Amsterdam.
The difference between the two versions is therefore less about one studio recording being “better” and more about what each band does with the song.
The Stones created the original.
Phish turned it into a living, breathing part of their concert repertoire.
The Stones’ version feels like a dusty, whiskey-soaked recording from the Exile era.
Phish’s version feels like a celebration shared between the band and an audience.
Popularity: Rolling Stones win overwhelmingly.
Original recording: Rolling Stones.
Live reinvention: Phish.
Longevity as a live cover: Phish.
Verdict: Phish wins the cover battle. The Stones’ original is the historically important recording, but Phish discovered just how naturally “Loving Cup” fits into their own musical language. They didn’t try to improve the Stones’ studio masterpiece. They turned it into something that could keep evolving night after night — which is exactly what makes a great Phish cover so special.
The 10 Biggest Cover Transformations
If we ignore the question of which version is technically “better” and instead look at which artists changed the original most dramatically, these ten stand out:
1. Aretha Franklin — “Respect”
Otis Redding → feminist soul statement
2. Soft Cell — “Tainted Love”
Northern soul → synth-pop
3. Whitney Houston — “I Will Always Love You”
Country → pop power ballad
4. Jimi Hendrix — “All Along the Watchtower”
Folk rock → psychedelic hard rock
5. Cyndi Lauper — “Girls Just Want to Have Fun”
Male new wave → 1980s pop-cultural statement
6. Johnny Cash — “Hurt”
Industrial rock → stark Americana
7. Santana — “Black Magic Woman”
British blues → Latin psychedelic rock
8. Vanilla Fudge — “You Keep Me Hangin’ On”
Motown → psychedelic hard rock
9. Tiffany — “I Think We’re Alone Now”
1960s pop → 1980s MTV pop
10. UB40 — “Red Red Wine”
Neil Diamond pop → reggae
The 10 Covers That Were Most Successful Commercially
There is also a fascinating difference between better and bigger.
Some covers didn’t necessarily improve the songwriting but became dramatically more popular.
Among the strongest examples:
Whitney Houston — “I Will Always Love You”
A 14-week Billboard No. 1.
Aretha Franklin — “Respect”
No. 1 and a defining cultural recording.
Tiffany — “I Think We’re Alone Now”
No. 1 in 1987.
Joan Jett — “I Love Rock ‘n Roll”
No. 1 in 1982.
Billy Idol — “Mony Mony”
No. 1 in 1987.
Manfred Mann’s Earth Band — “Blinded by the Light”
No. 1 in 1977.
Marvin Gaye — “I Heard It Through the Grapevine”
No. 1 and one of Motown’s most enduring recordings.
Donna Summer — “MacArthur Park”
No. 1 in 1978.
Blondie — “The Tide Is High”
No. 1 in 1981.
The Animals — “House of the Rising Sun”
No. 1 on both sides of the Atlantic.
The Most Interesting Thing About Cover Songs
The most interesting thing about this entire subject is that there is no single formula for a great cover.
Sometimes the artist improves the production.
Sometimes the singer improves the performance.
Sometimes the arrangement is the difference.
Sometimes the cover changes the genre.
Sometimes the timing is perfect.
Sometimes the original simply never found the audience it deserved.
And sometimes the cover isn’t actually “better” at all.
It is simply different enough to become somebody else’s song.
That is perhaps the greatest compliment a songwriter can receive.
Bob Dylan wrote “All Along the Watchtower,” but Hendrix made it sound like it had been written for him.
Dolly Parton wrote “I Will Always Love You,” but Whitney Houston turned it into a vocal monument.
Tommy James and the Shondells recorded “I Think We’re Alone Now,” but Tiffany made it sound like it had always belonged to the 1980s.
Leonard Cohen wrote “Hallelujah,” but Jeff Buckley gave an entire generation its emotional interpretation.
Trent Reznor wrote “Hurt,” but Johnny Cash made it sound like a final statement from an aging American icon.
Otis Redding wrote “Respect,” but Aretha Franklin transformed the song into something far larger than its original premise.
That is the magic of the cover.
The second artist doesn’t erase the first artist.
They reveal another possibility.
Final Thoughts: Sometimes the Song Is Waiting for the Right Artist
A great song can survive almost anything.
It can survive a bad arrangement.
It can survive an obscure original recording.
It can survive a genre change.
It can survive twenty years in the vault.
It can survive being forgotten.
Sometimes all it needs is the right artist at the right moment.
That is why the history of cover songs is really a history of reinterpretation.
Music doesn’t belong permanently to the person who records it first.
Once a song enters the world, other musicians can hear possibilities the original performer never considered.
A country singer hears a pop ballad.
A rock band hears a folk song.
A punk band hears a pop song.
A disco producer hears a rock song.
A synth-pop duo hears a 1960s soul record.
A teenage singer hears a 1960s hit and hears 1987.
That last example might be the perfect illustration.
Tommy James and the Shondells had already made “I Think We’re Alone Now” a hit.
There was nothing wrong with their version.
Tiffany didn’t rescue a failed song.
She reimagined a successful song for a completely different generation.
The result was another No. 1 hit.
That’s what makes cover history so fascinating.
There isn’t always a winner.
Sometimes there are two.
The original captures one moment.
The cover captures another.
And occasionally, the cover becomes so powerful that it seems to erase the original from popular memory.
Those are the truly remarkable cases.
Because when the right artist finds the right song, something happens that the songwriter can’t necessarily predict.
The song stops belonging to its original era.
It becomes bigger than the recording that introduced it.
It becomes something that can move from generation to generation.
And sometimes, against all expectations, the second artist makes the song better.
That’s when the cover becomes more than a cover.
It becomes the version.