Paul Higgins: Well worth a look. What was rejected or did not make it shines a light on attitudes and the times they were done.
Next week marks the publication of Françoise Mouly’s “Blown Covers,” a book whose subtitle says it all: “New Yorker covers you were never meant to see.” Mouly, who is the art editor at the magazine, describes how iconic New Yorker covers came to be, and also, how some covers never came to be. Here, she shares a selection of those new classics plus the cover ideas that were either too naughty, too crazy, or simply too ahead of their time.
- On newyorker.com, more of the covers you were never meant to see, with expanded images and descriptions from the artists: http://nyr.kr/IziXSf
Paul Higgins: A must listen. I have never really listened to the words of the song but this is just compelling.
But the song was suddenly rehabilitated when, over the weekend, a video of a singer named Carrie Manolakos singing “Creep” at small concert in New York went viral.
Manolakos, whose background is in musical theatre, performs the song with perfect earnestness, closing her eyes and choking back tears. She floats lightly over the soft notes and reaches up to a stringent wail towards the middle of the song. She takes all the qualities that made “Creep” moving in 1992—what Nick Hornby, writing in this magazine in 2000, called the song’s “unnerving sincerity,” its “mournful anguish,” and “the brilliance of [its] conceit”—and repackages them in an old-fashioned night-club singer’s torch song.
Manolakos’s version does what covers ought to do; it picks up a song that has sunken into throwback territory, dusts it off, and treats it like a classic.
- Andrea DenHoed writes about the arc of Radiohead’s “Creep”: http://nyr.kr/IbOg2h