Photo by Jake Kivanc
This article originally appeared on Noisey Canada.
It's fitting that in 2016 the Internet-age's most sentimental and memeable rapper Drake produced a cover of the sorrowful Jackson Browne song "These Days." Drake was invited by Tumblr rapper Babeo Baggins—of Barf Troop—to cover Baggins' "favourite song in the world" for the EP Love Songs for Tough Guys. Baggins released the song on SoundCloud under the name "Things I Forgot To Do." The rapper's involvement reinvigorated interest in the lonesome track, which prompted outlets to recommend so-called better versions of the track. The implication in these articles is that Drake could not have got the cover right at all, which is a narrow-minded view. By doing his own version of "These Days," Drake tapped into the collective experience of this inter-generational, cult classic track; an expression of pure sadness—one that can belong to anyone.
Jackson Browne's "These Days" was penned when Browne was just 16 years old. The song's rhymes are schematically perfect ("These days I sit on cornerstones / and count the time in quarter tones / 'til ten / Please don't confront me with my failures / I had not forgotten them") and the lyrics, despite being plainspoken, are very moving. "These Days," hints at tragedy, at a loss that was suffocating, but it never outright says what happened. Browne initially recorded the track in 1967 under the working title "I've Been Out Walking." Soon thereafter, part-time Velvet Underground singer and model Nico recorded "These Days" for her album Chelsea Girl and 18 year-old Browne accompanied her on guitar. At the suggestion of Andy Warhol, Browne's precocious fingerpicking was on an electric guitar—Warhol thought it would "modernise" the sound. Nico's throaty vocals are layered atop Browne's rambling chords and then, over that, another layer of overwhelming strings that grow competitively louder throughout the song. The three pieces are disjointed, awkward at times, but beautiful. Nico's blunt articulation of "These Days" became the voice of the song. It sounded as if she were pronouncing the words phonetically and not as much for their meaning, and this rendition moved audiences for five decades.
Browne recorded his own version of "These Days," in 1973 changing the lyrics slightly and twisting the sound into twangy California folk, which was completed with full electric chords, piano, and drums. In 2002, Browne performed the song at a series of live acoustic shows. Videos show him shyly introducing the song, simply and pointedly saying, "this is a song I wrote, when I was about sixteen." These live recordings show Browne as sheepish; as if he is reigning in the song, something that had got too far away from him, as if he didn't know exactly who it belonged to anymore. It began to feel as though the song belonged to anyone listening; now—and almost symbiotically—the 1973 album that Browne included the song on, was very aptly titled For Everyman. Browne himself admitted that his good friend Gregg Allman's version was "much better than it was written" and "unlocked its true potential."
The song would surge in popularity in 2001 again because of Wes Anderson's film, The Royal Tenenbaums. It was paired with the image of Gwyneth Paltrow as Margot Tenenbaum descending from a city bus in slow motion, staring at her forbidden lover with heartbreaking restraint. During the years following, the song was covered numerous times by alt-rock acts like Elliott Smith and the Tallest Man on Earth. In 2007, St. Vincent (aka Annie Clark) put out her version of "These Days" as a single to accompany her album Jesus Saves, I Spend. Though employing the same foggy, descending guitar, Clark's mature eloquence contradicts Nico's childlike version of the song. She sounds world-weary and wise; melodically reciting the lyrics as if the events have really happened to her.
Babeo Baggins' 2016 version samples the 1967 guitar in lo-fidelity, as if it were playing through a transistor radio. Then, boldly, Drake soars in atop the sample; his voice is crystal clear, accompanied by a sharp electric keyboard. The rapper takes artistic liberties with the tune and pulls off some truly extravagant vocal runs. Baggins' interjects, similarly playing with the melody. As the strings build, Drake contributes, "I've stopped the dreaming / I don't do too much scheming these days / These days I sit in chauffeur cars / With windows down and count the stars." The lyrical addition sounds almost too comfortably Drake-specific. But this isn't really Champagne Papi flexing on us: Drake is alone except for an unknown driver, sitting diminutively in a limo, craning his neck to see the stars, and counting them out of boredom and loneliness. It is sad. This image is as relatable as a 16-year-old Browne sitting on the corner and counting minutes. What's most beautiful about this version of the song is that Baggins' feminine tenor is not met with either Drake's famous male bravado or sadboy self-pity. Instead Baggins' voice is met with a similar sensitivity, which weaves in instead of dominating.
Drake and Baggins' R&B touch to the otherwise completely intact original sample does nothing to detract from the point of the song: Finding the "best" version of "These Days" is futile; the point of the song is that it was written so anybody could sing it, and interpret the track how they see fit. "These Days" is about feeling sad, and not the who or why behind it; feeling it, simply. The song doesn't belong to anybody, not even Jackson Browne; it was never a personal project of his, but a song that emerged from an uncontextualised moment of sadness. Babeo Baggins gave Drake space to be one of many voices of this pliable song. He may have padded it with his celebrity but Drake ultimately contributed to the legacy of the song as a place of solace to return to when one is sad.
April Barrett is a writer living in Montreal.
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