Ob-la-di, Ob-la-sucks

By Patrick Daugherty

Published Sept. 25, 2007

In the pantheon of lost causes in the world, covering The Beatles ranks near the top. You wouldn't want to hear John Tesh's orchestra doing Beethoven or look at Bob Ross's version of the Sistine Chapel, would you?

The movie score from "Across the Universe," the latest all-encompassing Beatles tribute encompassed entirely of unknown songbirds and songsmiths re-imagining the world's greatest band's greatest songs, picks up where the "I Am Sam" soundtrack left off. Only this time, the recognizable names like Sheryl Crow and Ben Folds are missing. Not that their renditions were anything but disposable either, but there was a morbid fascination in watching the day's most popular artists falling flat on their faces covering the greatest songs of all time.

So does listening to Joe Anderson's "interpretation" of "Hey Jude" elicit the same cheap thrills? Hardly, unless you've ever looked at a bagger at Hy-Vee and wondered what his pipes might sound like belting out "Something."

And just in case you entertained the notion that not only did Joe Anderson nail it, he improved it, ask yourself this: Did Paul McCartney miss something the first time? Can Joe Anderson make this bitch more timeless? Did he find an even greater hidden power in its outro?

The answer is, of course, no, but what he does do is make it sound silly and boring. Joe Anderson is probably a nice guy of the Jonas Brothers family tree, but homie coverin' Lennon/McCartney? Shiiiit.

And that's all any of this is: silly, boring, hilarious and utterly dreadful.

In all fairness, it is billed as a "cast recording," but does calling Che Guevara a "revolutionary" make him any less of a murderer?

Everyone — the women and the men — sing like Melissa Etheridge. The stretching to hit the high notes Sir Paul and Sir John (He's a knight in my heart.) could sing in their sleep is completely embarrassing and raises the question: If the movie's producers were intent on casting faceless unknowns, why didn't they dig up some anonymous twenty-somethings who can actually sing?

And again, if they didn't care whether or not their actors could sing, why not add a little star power? How about Kanye West finding the lost meaning of "Day Tripper"? Or what does Brandon Flowers think "Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite!" would sound like if John Lennon had done even more acid?

Instead, our "superstar" moments are Bono and Secret Machines (yes, Secret Machines) doing the gajillionth rendition of "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds."

So if your bag is people who are dating Marilyn Manson (Evan Rachel Wood) singing "Blackbird" or someone named Dana Fuchs doing her best Charles Manson on "Helter Skelter," welcome to Mecca (Personally I prefer Kate Beckinsale's "God Only Knows" and Winona Ryder's "Paint It, Black.") Just know that the torture probably isn't as brutal at Gitmo.

The album does have one grand accomplishment: its astonishing ability to make you question why you ever liked The Beatles in the first place. Nothing, not even the grand majesty of the original versions of these songs, will make you appreciate how much greater The Beatles were than this album. Now if only we could get some Anderson/Fuchs originals.