When todays examples got released as singles back in 1998 and 1999, I swear I have never come closer to smashing my radio whenever they got played.
Here’s three ways that they managed to get right on my tits:
- Replaced the original distinctive and gorgeous original vocal with something/someone utterly bland and forgettable;
- Added a totally unnecessary, crappy, tinny drum track;
- Ensured they had sucked every last fucking drop of life out of the original.
Like this, basically:
Tin Tin Out Feat. Shelley Nelson – Here’s Where The Story Ends
And from their debut album, “Reading, Writing & Arithmetic”, the original:
The Sundays – Here’s Where The Story Ends
And then, just to add insult to injury, Tin Tin
Ouch Out went and repeated the trick a year later, only this time with someone you’ve actually heard of providing the diluted vocal.
Original distinctive and gorgeous original vocal replaced by something utterly bland and forgettable? Check.
Totally unnecessary, crappy, tinny drum track added? Check.
Every last ounce of joie de vivre systematically removed? Check.
Then Tin Tin Out’s work here is done:
Tin Tin Out Feat. Emma Bunton – What I Am
Just to hammer home how awful that version is, I was going to post the video too. But I figured we’ve all been traumatised enough this week without being subjected to the spectacle of Ms. Bunton dancing around with just a shirt on for just shy of four minutes, a shirt which the cameraman seems determined to look down at every possible opportunity. (If YouTube breaks now, it’s all your fault, you dirty sods).
Here’s the infinitely superior original, by Mrs Paul Simon:
Edie Brickell & New Bohemians – What I Am
I’m off for a lie down.