How to Cover a Song

José James’ cover of Erykah Badu’s “Bag Lady,” from the jazz vocalist’s 2023 album of all Badu songs, On & On, is a tour de force. From BIGYUKI’s ghostly organ to Diana Dzhabbar’s somersaulting flute to the subtle crashes of Jharis Yokley’s drums, the track feels both loose and urgent, cathartic and resolute. But the true highlight is something that barely registers: a quiet “woo!” from the leader near the end of the song. Was he responding to the magnificent cohesion of the band? To the preceding lyric, “You’ll feel so much better”? To the fact that they’d made it to the end of the album? (“Bag Lady” is the closing track.) No matter the reason, the sentiment was clear: It felt really good, in that moment, to be playing Erykah Badu’s “Bag Lady.” And how could it not?

What makes a great cover song? The classics — Aretha Franklin’s “Respect,” John Coltrane’s “My Favorite Things,” Jimi Hendrix’s “All Along the Watchtower,” Amy Winehouse’s “Valerie” — take different routes to perfection, but they all share a brazen ambition, an intent to take someone else’s clay and mold it into an alternate universe. James, whose enthralling latest album, 1978, takes its cues from the dancey, political sounds of that year, is drawn to certain songs for the passion they exhibit. Then he’ll want to try them out himself.

“It’s an emotional state,” explains James. “Because, to me, songs are snapshots of where an artist or songwriter is in that moment. And they’re sort of, like, encapsulating a human feeling. And then leaving it there. When I think of Al Green covering ‘How Can You Mend a Broken Heart,’ when you listen, you’re like, ‘Man, he’s in that story. He’s made it his.’ Because it is his. And I think that’s, sort of, the key part. You hear it, maybe, stylistically, but you also feel the emotion of that story and you say, ‘I need to tell this story right now.’”

Meshell Ndegeocello, who last week released an LP of breathtakingly imaginative Sun Ra covers called Red Hot & Ra: The Magic City, is attracted to various compositions for the same reason. (Red Hot is a health-focused charitable organization.) The bassist and vocalist, who has also explored the songbooks of Nina Simone and Prince, sees little difference between enjoyment of a song and the impulse to play it.

When working on a cover, James doesn’t necessarily need his personality to shine through. Whether it’s a song by Billie Holiday or Bill Withers, the singer is more interested in exposing facets of the piece you might have missed.

“My role is, like, shining light on a song that maybe you know well, but haven’t examined in this way,” says James. “Like, I did a cover of Billy Joel. Everybody kind of knows Billy Joel, of course; almost taken for granted. Writers like him, or Paul McCartney. Or Elton John. They’ve just kind of been around and been so big for so long. And you don’t really realize, like, ‘Wow, he’s a really great piano player.’ Like, he’s really writing some incredible stuff. And a lot of my fans have told me this, to hear it in a different way — maybe in a different key, in a different register, with a different band, with a different conception, different production — all of a sudden you’re like, ‘Oh, “Just the Way You Are.” I never thought about it like that. I never thought about that lyric in that way.’”

Ndegeocello is more inclined to reinvent. Elements can be added and subtracted. The song, be it a Hendrix deep cut or her own Withers interpretation, needs to be seen in a way only she can.

“Once I run it through my mind’s filter and distill it to my understanding, it could become a different thing,” she says. “You can hold on to the melody and try new harmony, or keep lyrics and disregard the melody. Very much like remixes from the ’90s. I just try to remain open.”

No matter how you approach a cover, come release day, you might find yourself with feedback from the original artist. James never got a response from Badu about the music itself, but he did receive a symbolic stamp of approval.

“When the first single came out, she hit me up on Instagram and she was like, ‘Hey, did you clear everything?’” recalls James. “And I was like, ‘Of course. Everything is cool. Reached out to the team.’ And then she followed me on IG, and her team followed me. That was actually a beautiful moment for social media for me, where it’s like, I actually got to meet Erykah Badu. Virtually. Which, for someone like her, is actually kind of cool. It’s meaningful.”

Ndegeocello found herself in a similar situation after her breakout single, a 1994 duet with John Mellencamp on Van Morrison’s “Wild Night,” reached No. 3 on the Hot 100.

“Van Morrison gave me a lovely hug,” she remembers.

After immersing yourself in someone else’s music, it’s a given that the quirks and contours of those sounds will seep into your own. For James, the influence has been in terms of hooks.

“The thing about those songs is, like, people know the bass line,” explains James. “Like when you hear [sings a bass line]. You’re like, ‘Oh, “Just the Two of Us.”’ Nothing else has even come in and everyone’s, like, losing their minds. And that’s so cool, you know? Or Erykah Badu [sings the bass line from “Didn’t Cha Know”]. Everyone’s like, ‘Ahhh!’ Waiting for the beat to drop. So that kinda made me think a bit more about parts in my music. Like, can I also introduce these ear-candy moments, which is not typically a jazz thing. So that’s kinda cool.”

Ndegeocello sees the influence of these artists as a natural occurrence, too. She points to the concept of originality itself, with all-caps emphasis.