Yesterday brought us back to 1989 in not just one release, but two. Yes, Ryan Adams released his cover of Taylor Swifts‘ 1989 in the style of The Smiths and Bruce Springsteen. But Father John Misty’s J. Tillman upped the ante by recording tracks “Blank Space” and “Welcome To New York” off the 1989 album.
Mr. Tillman’s track offers “Blank Space” and “Welcome To New York” in the vein of The Velvet Underground. His styling of “Blank Space” has the audio quality of what sounds like you recorded something in your parents basement after stealing a couple of your dads beers with a couple of your friends and with the voice of a phone sex operator not quite into it and trying to make a few extra bucks to feed the kids. Whether Tillman’s covers are a coy way of playing “I can do it better” or not he has the minds of the peeps here at Openears kind of blown. J. Tillman you win, you always do! Listen to Father John Misty’s “Reinterpretation of the classic Ryan Adams album 1989” below via Soundcloud.
Edit: FJM has taken the songs off of Soundcloud (luckily YouTube has us covered and you can still check out the songs below), the posts off of Facebook, but then posted the following on his Facebook:
“I had a very strange dream that I abruptly woke up from around 3am early this morning. I was crab-walking around a neighborhood in New Orleans that, though it does not exist, is a recurring location in my dreams. My childhood friend Brian Kawamura was was telling me I still owed the tennis rental place $7000 when the French psychoanalyst Jacques Lacan was suddenly standing over me, saying over and over, “The only thing crazier than a peasant who believes he is King, is a King who believes he is a King.” He put one of those birthday Burger King crowns on my head and out of the clouds a sort of “Switched on Bach” version of “Ode To Joy” began to play. A crowd which had formed around me began to sing along, with tears streaming down their faces. The crowd was obviously hypnotized and I assumed if I crept away discreetly no one would notice. The earth became a sort of treadmill, and though the locations (The Great Wall of China, a McDonald’s where I had my 3rd birthday, the town from Michael Haneke’s The White Ribbon, Vignola’s restaurant in Rockville, Md.), “Ode To Joy” and the crowd remained all around me. All of a sudden it was time to soundcheck, which I was late for, and Barack Obama offered to give me a ride on Air Force One. He told me he needed urgent advice regarding some important policy decisions, and we spent the day in Hawaii playing basketball, petting his dogs, golfing and the like when I, gripped with anxiety, told him I really needed to get to soundcheck so we needed to discuss the ruling of the free world. By this time he had turned into an obscene visage of my Father and said, “I have one injunction for you, son: That you enjoy life. It is by this mandate that all is ruled. It is the true tyranny; the equalizing force that binds us all.” I jumped out of Air Force One and landed on top of this massive pink, sparkly, glowing blob that stretched for miles beyond miles, covering entire cities, and I had to keep gulping down chlorophyll because the thing was emitting insane levels of EMF’s, so my mouth and hands were stained dark green. Down inside the blob I could see thousands of familiar faces and one of them was Lou Reed on a catwalk hand-cuffed to supermodels who had adopted babies handcuffed to them and Lou said, “Delete those tracks, don’t summon the dead, I am not your plaything. The collection of souls is an expensive pastime.” Then I woke up.”
“Welcome To New York”
Can we please get a physical recording of “Welcome To New York”?