Tunes Du Jour Presents The Bob Dylan Songbook

by with No Comment Uncategorized

One way to measure a songwriter’s reach is not by how often their work is covered, but how widely. The playlist below spans decades, genres, and sensibilities—from Adele to The Dead Weather, from Johnny Cash to the Neville Brothers—and all roads lead back to Bob Dylan. This is not just a reflection of his prominence; it’s a testament to the adaptability of his writing. Dylan’s lyrics aren’t locked into one style or moment—they hold up when filtered through gospel, punk, glam, folk, or soul. His songs invite reimagining because they’re grounded in strong narrative bones and emotional honesty, not ornamental frills.

Consider the different shades of “All Along the Watchtower.” Dylan’s original version is stark and cryptic; Hendrix turned it into an electrified storm. Likewise, “I Shall Be Released,” rendered with hushed reverence by The Band, has the structure of a gospel hymn but the ambiguity of a fable. “Make You Feel My Love,” one of Dylan’s later compositions, found new life in Adele’s version—proof that his songwriting didn’t peak in the ’60s, but simply evolved. His voice as a writer has always been the constant: a blend of plainspoken wisdom, sly humor, and a deep sense of historical and emotional context.

It’s notable, too, how Dylan’s songs seem to absorb the character of the performer. When Elvis Presley sings “Tomorrow Is a Long Time,” it feels like a Southern ballad. When PJ Harvey takes on “Highway 61 Revisited,” it becomes something raw and jagged. Nina Simone’s version of “Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues” brings out a haunted intensity not present in Dylan’s own delivery. That elasticity points to a rare kind of craftsmanship—songs written with enough specificity to be meaningful, but enough openness to be inhabited.

Even in unexpected settings, Dylan’s words linger. Tom Petty co-wrote the lyrics to “Jammin’ Me” with him, a pointed pop-rock critique of media saturation. Patti Smith’s “Changing of the Guards” channels the mystical imagery and layered storytelling that Dylan deployed throughout the ’70s. And when The Specials tear into “Maggie’s Farm,” it becomes a statement of punk-era defiance. These aren’t nostalgia pieces—they’re songs that meet each era on its own terms.

Dylan’s catalog isn’t just influential; it’s usable. His songs function as cultural currency, endlessly exchangeable yet retaining value. Whether you hear him through Joan Osborne’s gothic reading of “Man in the Long Black Coat” or the crystalline harmonies of Peter, Paul and Mary’s “Blowin’ in the Wind,” what’s most striking is not just who sings Dylan—but what his songs reveal when they do.

Follow Tunes Du Jour on Facebook

Follow me on Bluesky

Follow me on Instagram

Tunes Du Jour Celebrates National Joe Day

by with No Comment Uncategorized

For those of you outside the U.S., today is National Joe Day — an important holiday stateside. Anyone named Joe (or Joseph, Josephine, Joey or Johanna) gets the day off. No work, no mail delivery, no access to federal buildings. Some Joels try to sneak in on the action, but they’re swiftly dealt with—usually by a retired mall cop wielding a two-by-four.

Follow Tunes Du Jour on Facebook

Follow me on Bluesky

Follow me on Instagram

Tunes Du Jour Presents 1966

by with No Comment Uncategorized

By 1966, rock and pop music had reached a critical turning point. The early, relatively simple sounds of rock and roll were giving way to a more experimental, ambitious approach, yet the airwaves were still filled with instantly memorable melodies. The year saw the release of songs that would go on to define entire careers—The Beach Boys’ “Good Vibrations” took pop production to new heights, The Four Tops’ “Reach Out (I’ll Be There)” solidified Motown’s dominance, and The Rolling Stones’ “Paint It Black” pushed rock into darker, more dramatic territory. Meanwhile, The Monkees burst onto the scene with “I’m a Believer,” adding a dose of manufactured but undeniably catchy charm to the mix.

Psychedelia was creeping into mainstream music, foreshadowing the sonic explorations that would fully take hold in the coming years. The Byrds’ “Eight Miles High” and The 13th Floor Elevators’ “You’re Gonna Miss Me” hinted at a new, mind-expanding direction for rock, while The Beatles’ “Paperback Writer” and its B-side, “Rain,” found the band toying with the limits of studio technology. The Who’s “My Generation,” released in late 1965 but peaking on the US charts in ’66, captured the rebellious energy of youth culture, while ? and the Mysterians’ “96 Tears” gave garage rock one of its most enduring anthems.

Soul music was also in full bloom, delivering some of its most powerful and enduring records. Percy Sledge’s “When a Man Loves a Woman” became an instant classic, dripping with raw emotion. Jimmy Ruffin’s “What Becomes of the Brokenhearted” and The Supremes’ “You Can’t Hurry Love” showcased Motown’s knack for blending heartache and joy in equal measure. Meanwhile, James Brown’s “It’s a Man’s Man’s Man’s World” was a testament to his singular ability to infuse deep soul with commentary. Over in the R&B realm, Ike & Tina Turner’s “River Deep – Mountain High”—though not a hit in the U.S. at the time—demonstrated producer Phil Spector’s bombastic “Wall of Sound” approach at its most overwhelming.

The year also had its share of songs that were simply too infectious to ignore. The Lovin’ Spoonful’s “Summer in the City” painted a sweltering urban landscape with its mix of laid-back verses and explosive choruses. Nancy Sinatra’s “These Boots Are Made for Walkin’” turned a simple, stomping beat into a statement of defiant cool. The Walker Brothers’ “The Sun Ain’t Gonna Shine Anymore” and The Left Banke’s “Walk Away Renée” delivered lush, baroque pop melancholy, while Eddie Floyd’s “Knock on Wood” became one of the defining records of Stax-style Southern soul.

Perhaps what’s most striking about 1966 in retrospect is just how many of these songs have endured. Whether through original recordings, countless covers, or their presence in film and television, these records still resonate. From the garage rock sneer of The Bobby Fuller Four’s “I Fought the Law” to the hypnotic stomp of The Troggs’ “Wild Thing,” the music of 1966 wasn’t just a snapshot of its time—it was the foundation for what was to come.

Follow Tunes Du Jour on Facebook

Follow me on Bluesky

Follow me on Instagram

Tunes Du Jour Presents Nina Simone

by with No Comment Uncategorized

Few artists have embodied as many roles as Nina Simone. She was a classically trained pianist, a jazz singer, a blues interpreter, a protest leader, and a torch song specialist—often all in the span of a single performance. Simone’s catalog is as vast as her influence, but this playlist highlights the breadth of her artistry, from the tenderness of “I Loves You, Porgy” to the fiery urgency of “Mississippi Goddam.” Whether reimagining the standards or giving voice to the Civil Rights Movement, Simone delivered each song with a conviction that made it undeniably her own.

Simone’s ability to transform a song was unmatched. Her take on “To Love Somebody” strips the Bee Gees’ original of its pop sheen and replaces it with raw yearning, while “I Put a Spell on You” moves beyond Screamin’ Jay Hawkins’ theatrical growl into something genuinely haunting. She injected “Mr. Bojangles” with a quiet sorrow that feels more lived-in than nostalgic, and her version of “Here Comes the Sun” trades George Harrison’s optimism for a more hesitant hopefulness. Even when covering others, she reshaped the material to fit her vision.

Yet Simone’s greatest impact may have come through her role as a protest singer. Songs like “To Be Young, Gifted and Black” and “I Wish I Knew How It Would Feel to Be Free” were more than recordings; they were rallying cries. “Mississippi Goddam,” written in response to the murder of Medgar Evers and the bombing of the 16th Street Baptist Church, remains one of the most blistering indictments of racial injustice ever put to music. “Four Women” delivers a stark, unflinching portrayal of Black womanhood, a subject few artists tackled so directly at the time.

Simone’s ability to balance the political with the deeply personal is part of what makes her catalog so compelling. “The Other Woman” and “I Want a Little Sugar in My Bowl” reveal her mastery of intimate storytelling, while “Wild Is the Wind” and “Feeling Good” showcase her ability to evoke sweeping emotion. Even in moments of defiance, as on “Revolution (Pts. 1 and 2)” or “Go to Hell,” there is an undercurrent of vulnerability—Simone was never just delivering messages; she was baring her soul.

Through it all, her voice remained unmistakable: sometimes smooth, sometimes jagged, always expressive. She could whisper, growl, or soar, depending on what the song demanded. Whether she was interpreting Dylan (“Just Like a Woman,” “I Shall Be Released”) or spirituals (“Sinnerman”), jazz standards (“Nobody Knows You When You’re Down and Out”), or contemporary compositions (“Baltimore”), she inhabited the music in a way that few artists ever have. Nina Simone didn’t just sing—she made sure you felt every note.

Follow Tunes Du Jour on Facebook

Follow me on Bluesky

Follow me on Instagram