Sayin' Hello to the Folks

I had a big ol' soft spot for Jules Shear before I had any idea who he was, and if you're close to my age, you probably did too — his was the mighty pen behind the '80s hits "All Through the Night" (co-written with Cyndi Lauper) and "If She Knew What She Wants" (covered by the Bangles), and that's just the start of the cool stuff he was up to during the decade, including inspiring the 'Til Tuesday track "J for Jules."

He was a songwriter's songwriter, in other words, but his profile as a recording artist has always been pretty low, so his existence was more or less a mystery to me for years — even, I am fairly certain, well beyond his relatively brief stint as the host of MTV Unplugged (a show he helped create). If I'm being honest, I probably didn't listen to one of Shear's own recordings until well into the '90s — and again, if I'm being honest, it isn't all that hard to understand why he's always been a cult figure and/or acquired taste as a recording artist, given his somewhat Dylanesque ability to pen absolutely flawless pop songs that only truly take flight when they're recorded by artists with more, shall we say, conventional singing voices.

Shear's adenoidal aesthetic and relatively limited range as a vocalist aren't huge deals for me — as I may have said in this space before, I really love a lot of singers who can almost hit the note — but it does mean that listening to his discography restricts you to a sonic palette that covers but a small portion of the territory spanned by artists who've covered his songs. And I mention all this, in part, as a means of setting the stakes for Shear's 2004 album Sayin' Hello to the Folks, which finds him covering the work of other artists.

Like Bryant Roses, Shear understood the assignment when he set out to make an album of covers. First and most importantly, he has impeccable, eclectic taste; this record's track listing includes songs written and/or popularized by a list of artists that includes Dylan, Todd Rundgren, James Brown, Wilson Pickett, and the Dave Clark Five. Second and equally importantly, he's a savvy musician, and he understands that the key to pulling something like this off lies in not only putting his own stamp on the material, but tailoring the arrangements to his singing.

While stopping short of suggesting that Sayin' Hello to the Folks is essential listening, I would argue that Shear succeeds on both of those counts. It seems fairly unlikely that anyone was asking for Jules Shear covers of Procol Harum or Brian Wilson songs, but listening to this record, you believe he put it together like a mixtape of his personal favorites; if he doesn't transcend the originals, he does burrow down deep into what makes them special, and acquits himself admirably from track to track. And in fact, scratch what I said about transcending the originals — for my money, this is the definitive version of Rundgren's "Be Nice to Me."

Admittedly, I haven't listened to this record from start to finish for many years, but seeing as how my listening activity is currently pretty scattershot and I don't have a new or new-ish album to recommend for you this week, I figured I might as well serve up something you couldn't stream even if you wanted to. Give it a listen and let me know what you think.

Dropbox

Watching: I'm still hanging in with Apple's Bad Monkey, which is following the standard streaming-series arc by getting exponentially more interesting as it goes along; if you find yourself only somewhat amused during its first two episodes, hang in there, because if Episode 3 is any indication, this series' many top-shelf ingredients are destined to combust in entertaining fashion sooner than later.

I'm also enjoying Season 3 of Industry, otherwise known as "Succession for people who prefer their shows to be slightly more British." It's been a somewhat under-the-radar critical hit for HBO so far, but with Kit Harington and Barry's Sarah Goldberg joining the cast this time out, a ratings bump is probably on the horizon. You've got beautiful people doing ugly things with the world of high finance as the backdrop; it's addictively soapy stuff, even if you feel like you need to take a shower after every episode.

Reading: Still plugging along with Julie Schumacher's Dear Committee Members, which is an entertaining if gimmicky academia-set comedy presented as a series of letters written by one particularly beleaguered (and witty) professor. It's reminiscent of Richard Russo's funniest stuff, but the narrative conceit has a distancing effect that continually reminds me of how much more involved I'd be if this was more narrative and less epistolary. A fairly minor complaint, all things considered, but I don't know if I'll be continuing with the trilogy after I finish with this opening installment.