Tunes Du Jour Presents The John Lennon Songbook

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It’s interesting to start a playlist of John Lennon songs with David Bowie’s “Fame.” It feels like an outlier at first, until you remember Lennon co-wrote the track, contributed guitar, and sang backup vocals. It’s one of just a handful of songs on this list that isn’t a straightforward cover, and its placement at the top serves as a great reminder: one of the best ways to understand a songwriter’s impact is to see how their work thrives in the hands of others. Listening to a collection like this isn’t just about nostalgia; it’s an active exploration of how durable and adaptable Lennon’s compositions truly are, revealing the deep-seated melodic and lyrical strengths that invite constant reinterpretation.

The sheer variety of artists drawn to his work speaks volumes about its fundamental structure. A Lennon song can be a sturdy vessel for almost any style. In its original form, “Help!” was a desperate plea disguised as an upbeat folk-rock hit. But when Tina Turner gets ahold of it, she strips away the disguise, transforming it into a full-throated, soulful cry for salvation. Similarly, Johnny Cash takes “In My Life,” a song of youthful reflection, and imbues it with the profound weight of a long life lived, making each line land with a different, more somber gravity. From the raw R&B groove Otis Redding finds in “Day Tripper” to the cool, atmospheric poise Roxy Music brings to “Jealous Guy,” these songs prove to be exceptionally resilient, their core emotions accessible to any genre.

Beyond musical versatility, the playlist highlights the different facets of Lennon’s lyrical persona. There’s the acerbic political commentator, whose pointed dissatisfaction is channeled perfectly by the punk sneer of Generation X on “Gimme Some Truth” and the world-weary defiance of Marianne Faithfull on “Working Class Hero.” Then there is the deeply vulnerable Lennon, the man wrangling with insecurity and fame. You can hear this in the anxious, propulsive energy The Feelies bring to “Everybody’s Got Something To Hide (Except Me And My Monkey)” or the stark, pleading quality Maxïmo Park finds in the solo track “Isolation.” He could be pointedly political or achingly personal, and both modes have continued to resonate with artists who have their own truths to tell.

Of course, no look at Lennon’s work would be complete without touching on his more surreal and experimental side. These are often the songs that seem most tied to a specific time, yet they possess a dreamlike logic that continues to inspire. Elton John, a friend and collaborator, treats “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” not as a museum piece but as a glam-rock epic. R.E.M. leans into the hypnotic, floating quality of “#9 Dream,” while Fiona Apple’s take on “Across the Universe” honors its ethereal nature while grounding it with her distinctive emotional intensity. These artists don’t just copy the psychedelia; they find new ways to access the spirit of imaginative freedom that fueled the original recordings.

Ultimately, listening through these interpretations feels less like a tribute and more like a conversation across decades. We hear Billy J. Kramer’s simple pop charm on “Bad to Me,” a song Lennon wrote for him in 1963, and then Glen Campbell’s posthumous, heart-rending version of “Grow Old With Me,” one of Lennon’s last compositions. The journey between those two points is remarkable. This collection of songs, re-shaped by everyone from The Breeders to Bettye LaVette, demonstrates that the power of Lennon’s work isn’t just in his own iconic recordings. It’s in the bones of the songs themselves—the unforgettable melodies, the honest lyrics, and the restless spirit that others can’t help but be drawn to, again and again.

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Tunes Du Jour Presents 1975

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Fifty years ago, radio dials and turntables were spinning an uncommonly diverse mix of sounds. The charts of 1975 didn’t follow a single storyline—instead, they captured a moment when multiple musical currents were flowing with equal strength. Disco was gaining momentum but hadn’t yet dominated everything in its path. Rock was simultaneously reaching for arena-sized ambition and stripping down to raw emotion. Soul and funk were evolving into more sophisticated forms, while pop continued doing what it does best: making people hum along whether they meant to or not.

The year belonged, in many ways, to artists who understood that hooks and ambition weren’t mutually exclusive. Bruce Springsteen’s “Born to Run” arrived like a desperate prayer wrapped in Phil Spector production, while Queen’s “Killer Queen” proved that flamboyance and precision could coexist in three minutes of glam-rock perfection. Led Zeppelin stretched “Kashmir” across nearly nine minutes of Eastern-influenced grandeur, and Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here” turned melancholy into an art form. Even Bob Dylan, never one to stand still, was crafting the narrative complexity of “Tangled Up in Blue.” These weren’t just songs—they were statements about how far popular music could reach while still connecting with listeners.

Meanwhile, dance floors were becoming cultural epicenters. KC and the Sunshine Band’s “That’s the Way (I Like It)” and Gloria Gaynor’s “Never Can Say Goodbye” helped establish disco as something more than a passing trend. The Bee Gees’ “Jive Talkin'” showed that the brothers Gibb could pivot from balladeers to funk-influenced hitmakers. Labelle’s “Lady Marmalade” brought New Orleans sass and unapologetic sexuality to the mainstream, while Earth, Wind & Fire’s “Shining Star” blended funk, soul, and jazz into something that felt both cosmic and grounded. The groove wasn’t just a rhythm—it was becoming a philosophy.

What’s striking about 1975 is how much sonic territory gets covered without any single approach dominating. 10cc’s “I’m Not in Love” used studio technology to create something hauntingly atmospheric, while Kraftwerk’s “Autobahn” was quietly suggesting what electronic music might become. Barry White continued orchestrating romantic opulence, Minnie Riperton’s five-octave range soared through “Lovin’ You,” and Linda Ronstadt’s “You’re No Good” proved that straightforward rock could still pack a punch. David Bowie’s “Fame,” co-written with John Lennon, showed him already moving past glam into funk-inflected territory. Glen Campbell brought “Rhinestone Cowboy” to country-pop crossover success, while Average White Band demonstrated that Scottish musicians could master American funk with “Pick Up the Pieces.”

Listening to these songs now, what emerges isn’t just nostalgia but a reminder of a particular kind of creative confidence. These artists weren’t afraid to be big or vulnerable, funky or introspective, polished or raw—sometimes all within the same track. The year didn’t belong to any single movement or sound, and that might be exactly what made it memorable. It was a time when the radio could take you from the Staple Singers’ gospel-infused soul to Sweet’s glitter-rock crunch to ABBA’s pristine pop architecture without anyone thinking twice about the journey. That kind of range feels worth celebrating.

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Tunes Du Jour Presents Nile Rodgers

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If you’ve ever found yourself on a dance floor, there’s a very high probability you’ve been moving to the work of Nile Rodgers. While his name might not be as instantly recognizable as the superstars he’s worked with, his sound is an undeniable part of modern music history. Looking at a playlist of his work is like taking a tour through the last five decades of pop, funk, and rock. He’s the common thread, the secret ingredient, and the architect behind countless hits, often armed with his signature 1960 Fender “Hitmaker” Stratocaster.

It all starts with Chic, the band he co-founded with the brilliant bassist Bernard Edwards. On tracks like “Good Times,” “Le Freak,” “I Want Your Love,” “Everybody Dance,” and the rest of the Chic songs on this list, Rodgers served as co-writer, guitarist, and co-producer. This partnership, known as The Chic Organization, became a powerhouse production unit. They took their signature blend of sophisticated funk, propulsive rhythms, and string-laden elegance and applied it to other artists. For Sister Sledge, they wrote, produced, and performed on “We Are Family,” “He’s the Greatest Dancer,” and “Lost In Music,” transforming the family group into global sensations. They did the same for Diana Ross, delivering her iconic hits “Upside Down” and “I’m Coming Out,” where Rodgers once again handled co-writing, guitar, and co-production duties.

As the 1980s dawned, Rodgers stepped into a new role as a solo super-producer, shaping the sound of the decade. He produced David Bowie’s blockbuster album Let’s Dance, playing his distinct, chiming guitar on the title track, “Modern Love,” and “China Girl.” While he didn’t write those songs, his production and arrangements are largely responsible for making them monumental hits. He did the same for Madonna, producing her album Like a Virgin. On tracks like the title song, “Material Girl,” “Dress You Up,” and “Angel,” Rodgers was the producer and a key guitarist, helping to craft the clean, sharp, and irresistibly danceable sound that defined her early career. He also brought his Midas touch to the world of New Wave, producing the hit single version of Duran Duran’s “The Reflex” and co-producing their smash, “Wild Boys.”

Beyond these marquee names, Rodgers’s discography reveals an incredible range. He was the producer who helped The B-52’s craft the polished and joyful sound of “Roam.” He produced the sleek, funk-rock of INXS’s “Original Sin” and the anthemic “Lay Your Hands On Me” for the Thompson Twins. His work with female vocalists continued to shine, from co-writing and co-producing the criminally underrated groove of Carly Simon’s “Why” to lending that same full-service treatment to Debbie Harry’s solo track “Backfired,” Grace Jones’ “I’m Not Perfect,” and Sheila & B. Devotion’s European disco classic, “Spacer.” On each of these, he was not just behind the board but was an active writer and musician.

Decades later, that same unmistakable guitar and rhythmic sensibility are as relevant as ever. His re-emergence into the mainstream wasn’t a comeback, but simply a reminder that he never left. He brought his magic to Daft Punk’s “Get Lucky,” which he co-wrote and on which he played that instantly recognizable guitar riff. More recently, he contributed his guitar playing and received a co-writing credit on Beyoncé’s “CUFF IT,” a track that feels like a direct descendant of the joyful, sophisticated funk he pioneered. From disco to new wave, and from 80s pop to 21st-century R&B, Nile Rodgers’s role has been consistent: he is the man who provides the foundation, the feel, and the funk that makes the world want to dance.

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Tunes Du Jour Presents Covers Of The Rolling Stones

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One of the best ways to understand a song’s true strength is to hear it played by someone else. When a song can be lifted from its original context, performed by a different artist in a new style, and still resonate, you know the writers built it on a solid foundation. Looking at the sheer breadth of artists who have successfully interpreted the songs of Mick Jagger and Keith Richards, it becomes clear that their songwriting partnership created something remarkably durable. While their own recordings as The Rolling Stones are iconic, it’s the cover versions that reveal the fundamental power of the compositions themselves.

The playlist immediately highlights how deeply their writing is rooted in the American soul and R&B they revered. It’s one thing to be influenced by a genre; it’s another to write songs that the masters of that genre can inhabit as their own. When you hear Aretha Franklin transform “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” into a gospel-fueled force of nature, or Ike & Tina Turner inject “Honky Tonk Women” with their signature high-octane energy, you realize the songs contain an authentic rhythmic and emotional core. This goes even deeper with Solomon Burke’s take on “I Got the Blues” or Bettye LaVette’s searing, world-weary version of “Salt of the Earth.” These aren’t just covers; they are reclamations, demonstrating that the blueprints Jagger and Richards created were so solid that they could hold the weight of the most powerful voices in soul music.

What’s also remarkable is the structural flexibility of their work. A great Jagger/Richards song often has a distinct personality, yet its core components—melody, lyrical theme, and chordal movement—are adaptable enough to thrive in entirely new environments. The post-punk angularity of Devo’s “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” strips away the blues swagger to expose the lyric’s timeless complaint of modern alienation. The Sundays reimagine the country-tinged “Wild Horses” as a piece of shimmering, ethereal dream pop, proving the song’s beautiful melody is its true anchor. Even more extreme, the Ramones boil “Out of Time” down to its raw essentials, recasting the shuffling pop song as a driving, three-chord punk declaration, while Ituana finds a relaxed, bossa nova groove in the epic “You Can’t Always Get What You Want.” The songs don’t just survive these transformations; they reveal different facets of their character.

Ultimately, this collection of performances underscores that the Jagger/Richards catalog is more than a collection of iconic riffs and rock and roll attitude. These are fundamentally well-crafted songs. They can be country laments in the hands of Johnny Cash (“No Expectations”) or Steve Earle (“Dead Flowers”). They can be theatrical pop statements for David Bowie (“Let’s Spend The Night Together”) or Bryan Ferry (“Sympathy for the Devil”). They can even be played for laughs by “Weird Al” and The Folksmen precisely because the source material is so instantly recognizable. The Rolling Stones’ versions will always be definitive, but these interpretations from other artists give us a clearer view of the writers’ craft, proving the songs stand on their own, ready for anyone to find a piece of their own story within them.

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Tunes Du Jour Celebrates Bastille Day

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Happy Bastille Day!

On this date in 1789, the French people stormed the Bastille Prison in Paris to shout “No More Kings!” They probably shouted that in French. I can’t say for sure as I wasn’t there that day. Anyhoo, it worked! How’ bout that? This uprising ultimately led to the birth of democracy in France.

To celebrate, I compiled a Bastille Day playlist. I’ll be the first to tell you that there are far more accurate Bastille Day playlists out there. I’m using the holiday as an excuse to compile tracks from French artists, songs sung in French, songs with French titles, and one song by Chicago-born 60s song parodist Allan Sherman. I learned more from that three-minute record, baby, than I ever learned in school about the French Revolution.

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Tunes Du Jour Presents The Original Versions

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Many of us grow up assuming the hit version of a song is the original. This playlist celebrates those surprising musical genealogies: well-known songs that were originally recorded by someone else, often with little fanfare. Here are the stories behind the transformations—where they started, and how they became iconic.

“Don’t Leave Me This Way” – Thelma Houston / Originally by Harold Melvin & the Blue Notes (1975)
Houston’s disco anthem actually began life as a Philly soul track sung by Teddy Pendergrass. Thelma took it to the dancefloor—and to #1.

“War” – Edwin Starr / Originally by The Temptations (1970)
This protest song started as an album cut by The Temptations. Starr’s rawer, angrier take made it a searing hit during the Vietnam era.

“Strawberry Letter 23” – The Brothers Johnson / Originally by Shuggie Otis (1971)
Otis’ dreamy, psychedelic original flew under the radar until producer Quincy Jones supercharged it with funk for The Brothers Johnson.

“I Feel for You” – Chaka Khan / Originally by Prince (1979)
Prince wrote it, recorded it, and released it on his 1979 self-titled album. Chaka Khan added Stevie Wonder’s harmonica and Melle Mel’s rap, creating a genre-blurring smash that gave the song a second life—and a much bigger audience.

“Louie Louie” – The Kingsmen / Originally by Richard Berry (1957)
Berry’s calypso-tinged rhythm & blues song became an unintelligible rock ‘n’ roll classic in the hands of teenage garage rockers.

“Pass The Koutchie” – Musical Youth as “Pass the Dutchie” / Originally by Mighty Diamonds (1981)
Musical Youth’s version cleaned up the ganja references but kept the groove. A British reggae hit born from a roots original.

“Tainted Love” – Soft Cell / Originally by Gloria Jones (1964)
This Northern Soul favorite was ignored in the U.S. until Soft Cell’s chilly synth-pop cover turned it into an international sensation.

“You Are So Beautiful” – Joe Cocker / Originally by Billy Preston (1974)
Preston’s gospel-inflected original was co-written with Dennis Wilson of the Beach Boys. Cocker slowed it down into a tearjerking ballad.

“The First Cut Is The Deepest” – Rod Stewart / Originally by P.P. Arnold (1967)
Before Cat Stevens, the song’s writer, sang it himself, P.P. Arnold delivered a powerful version. Stewart’s cover gave it global traction.

“Red, Red Wine” – UB40 / Originally by Neil Diamond (1967)
Diamond’s mournful original was a slow ballad. UB40’s reggae version confused even him—he didn’t recognize his own song on the radio.

“Brand New Cadillac” – The Clash / Originally by Vince Taylor and His Playboys (1959)
This rockabilly obscurity became a snarling punk track on London Calling. Vince Taylor later served as an inspiration for David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust persona.

“Take Me To The River” – Talking Heads / Originally by Al Green (1974)
Green’s swampy soul gave way to Talking Heads’ jittery art-funk. An old-school spiritual reborn in new wave style.

“The Tide Is High” – Blondie / Originally by The Paragons (1967)
Jamaican rocksteady meets NYC cool. Blondie took this mellow gem and gave it a global pop sheen.

“Brandy” – Barry Manilow as “Mandy” / Originally by Scott English (1971)
English’s sad and simple original got a new name and new polish. Manilow’s grand version topped the charts.

“Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood” – The Animals / Originally by Nina Simone (1964)
Simone’s pleading ballad became a snarling British Invasion hit. Her nuanced sorrow gave way to the raw edge of rock.

“Bette Davis Eyes” – Kim Carnes / Originally by Jackie DeShannon (1974)
The original was breezy and piano-driven. Carnes and her producer Val Garay turned it into new wave noir.

“Heaven Must Have Sent You” – Bonnie Pointer / Originally by The Elgins (1966)
Pointer’s disco version revived a Motown deep cut and put it back on the charts over a decade later.

“Love Buzz” – Nirvana / Originally by Shocking Blue (1969)
Nirvana turned this obscure Dutch psych-rock tune into a distorted grunge landmark. Their debut single.

“Piece Of My Heart” – Big Brother & The Holding Company / Originally by Erma Franklin (1967)
Aretha’s sister recorded it first, but Janis Joplin made it a fiery centerpiece of her legend.

“It’s Oh So Quiet” – Björk / Originally by Betty Hutton (1951)
A novelty big-band number revived by Björk into a theatrical showstopper. Old Hollywood meets Icelandic art-pop.

“China Girl” – David Bowie / Originally by Iggy Pop (1977)
Co-written with Bowie, Iggy’s version was skeletal and raw. Bowie’s version added synth gloss and MTV appeal.

“Good Lovin'” – The Young Rascals / Originally by The Olympics (1965)
The Olympics had the groove, but The Rascals turned it into a garage-rock rave-up and a #1 hit.

“Valerie” – Mark Ronson featuring Amy Winehouse / Originally by The Zutons (2006)
The Zutons wrote it as a bluesy rock song. Winehouse made it retro-soul perfection.

“Police On My Back” – The Clash / Originally by The Equals (1967)
A stomping, paranoid track from Eddy Grant’s first band. The Clash turned it into a punk fugitive anthem.

“After Midnight” – Eric Clapton / Originally by J.J. Cale (1966)
Cale’s laid-back shuffle was juiced up with guitar licks by Clapton, who kept the songwriter’s cool intact.

“On Broadway” – The Drifters / Originally by The Cookies (1962)
Songwriters Barry Mann & Cynthia Weil gave this to a girl group first, but The Drifters made it a city-slick R&B classic.

“Love Hurts” – Nazareth / Originally by The Everly Brothers (1960)
Gentle heartbreak became hard rock agony. Nazareth’s arena wail made the song a power ballad staple.

“I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll” – Joan Jett & the Blackhearts / Originally by The Arrows (1975)
Jett saw it on UK TV and recorded a fiercer, snarling version that girls (and boys) everywhere could scream along to.

“Without You” – Nilsson / Originally by Badfinger (1970)
Badfinger’s version was plaintive; Nilsson’s was operatic. He didn’t just sing it—he wailed it.

“Superman” – R.E.M. / Originally by The Clique (1969)
A psychedelic pop obscurity turned indie-rock cult classic. One of R.E.M.’s rare early tracks not written by the band.

These songs remind us that inspiration doesn’t always strike where the spotlight shines. Sometimes greatness is borrowed—and reinvented.

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Tunes Du Jour Presents 1976

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By 1976, disco had moved from underground clubs to the top of the charts, and rock music found itself facing challenges from multiple fronts. Donna Summer’s “Love to Love You Baby” and Diana Ross’ “Love Hangover” showcased the genre’s hypnotic groove and sensuality, while Wild Cherry’s “Play That Funky Music” blurred the lines between rock and funk, proving that even guitar-driven bands weren’t immune to disco’s influence. Hits like Andrea True Connection’s “More, More, More” and Candi Staton’s “Young Hearts Run Free” reinforced that this was no passing trend—it was a movement reshaping popular music.

Mainstream rock, meanwhile, leaned into grandeur and melody. Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” became a landmark in songcraft, a multi-part epic that defied conventional structure and solidified the band’s place in rock history. Boston’s “More Than a Feeling” offered a soaring, polished take on arena rock, while Blue Öyster Cult’s “(Don’t Fear) The Reaper” balanced an ethereal mood with a sinister undercurrent. Even David Bowie, ever the shape-shifter, leaned into a sleeker sound with “Golden Years.”

Yet, outside of the glossy productions and layered harmonies, a different kind of energy was brewing. The Sex Pistols’ “Anarchy in the U.K.” was a shot across the bow, rejecting the excesses of rock in favor of raw urgency. While not a punk act, Thin Lizzy’s “The Boys Are Back in Town” carried a swagger and directness that resonated with rock fans who would soon embrace punk’s stripped-down ethos. Punk’s full-blown arrival was just around the corner, but 1976 gave the first clear signs that the dominant sounds of the decade were about to face a reckoning.

Beyond disco and rock, R&B and soul continued to thrive, offering both lush ballads and infectious grooves. The Manhattans’ “Kiss and Say Goodbye” and Lou Rawls’ “You’ll Never Find Another Love Like Mine” showcased rich, emotive vocal performances, while Spinners’ “The Rubberband Man” and Boz Scaggs’ “Lowdown” leaned into rhythmic sophistication. Daryl Hall & John Oates’ “She’s Gone” marked a breakthrough for the duo, setting the stage for their string of hits in the late 1970s and early 1980s, where they refined their blend of blue-eyed soul and pop.

In a year that saw both nostalgia and forward momentum, songs like the Four Seasons’ “December, 1963 (Oh, What a Night)” and Gordon Lightfoot’s “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” reminded listeners of storytelling’s power in song. Meanwhile, ABBA’s “Mamma Mia” and Elton John and Kiki Dee’s “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” offered sheer pop exuberance. The music of 1976 reflected an industry in transition—disco was ascendant, rock was splintering, and a new wave of rebellion was beginning to make itself heard.

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