10 Great Covers From Albums That Inspired a Singer's Career

Glenn Gould, Gillian Welch, The Boss, Lauryn Hill and more

Choosing a top 10 was much more difficult than I expected. My criteria ruled out lots of great covers and artists. The albums had to resonate to the point where they had an impact on how I approach music and songwriting. And the covers had to mirror the music itself and reveal something about the artist. So, I wound up tracing the evolution of my own tastes and influences, and then finding covers that reflected the power of those particular artists.

Jackson Browne

Late for the Sky (1974)

This is an album I’ve returned to over the last couple of months. When I first heard it as a teenager, the record wore out the stylus on my turntable. The cover has resonated for decades. That light in a room, the late-model car and big sky are filled with transcendent mystery. The image matches the songwriting and production: sparse and meaningful, leaving plenty of room for a listener to think and feel. I don’t know what the phrase “late for the sky” means, but I still love it.

Gillian Welch

Time (The Revelator) (2001)

About 25 years ago, my wife discovered the genius of Gillian Welch and Dave Rawlings and passed that knowledge to me. I’ve never grown tired of listening to their songs, and I always hear something new. The cover shows the subtle complexity, intimacy and authenticity of the music: a wide mix of colors in a small room, centered on Gillian’s thoughtful gaze.  

Neil Young

After the Gold Rush (1970)

The refracted image of Neil walking down a street with a guitar on his back is the right choice for this album. When I first heard his music, I envisioned a lonesome traveler, singing at the edge of a world with no center. Like lots of my friends, I listened to Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young. But Neil, with his crackling falsetto and intimate lyrics, stood apart, speaking straight to the heart of a teenage boy who was standing at the edge of his own little world.

Lauryn Hill

The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill (1998)

I first heard a song from Hill’s album on my car radio, and I was instantly hooked. I’d somehow missed The Fugees other than a single that made its way to Albuquerque, and this album was my introduction to Hip-Hop. Her voice, energy, lyrics, her inclusion of conversations with children—I’d never heard anything like it. I knew some of the streets and landmarks she wrote about—we’d attended the same high school 12 years apart—but I never knew the place where I grew up had music in it until she showed me. The simple sketch of her face with what looks like the sun lets us know that she’s going to sing the truth and nothing less.  

Townes Van Zandt

Townes Van Zandt (1969)

This cover says it all: a kitchen filled with colors and shapes, and in the center, behind a bare, worn, wooden table, sits a man, one hand propping up his head, eyes downcast as if he’s grown tired of looking at the camera. I grew up far away geographically and culturally from Van Zandt’s Texas. But when I first heard his plaintive voice and vulnerable lyrics, I found someone who could express some of the things I’d been feeling through the years.   

Barrence Whitfield and the Savages

Ow! Ow! Ow! (1987)

Not long after arriving in Albuquerque in the late ’80s, I found myself singing and playing guitar in a blues and rockabilly band. We practiced a lot to get ourselves ready for four-set shows. Our space was the loft at our drummer’s record store. At the beginning of every week, he would give us a tape of songs from artists I’d never heard of to learn how to play. Barrence Whitfield was the greatest of them all. His wild, unrestrained, joyful energy was a perfect antidote for what was rolling around in my mind. 

John Coltrane

A Love Supreme (1965)

In college, I took a class about jazz with the great saxophonist Archie Shepp. Mr. Shepp would often stroll into class and start talking without any prepared notes. It was like sitting in his living room while he shared one story after the next. He told us to go to the music library and listen to A Love Supreme. So I did. It was one of the first times I felt something spiritual while listening to music. Later, I’d blast the album in our little apartment to chase out whatever was stuck in my head. The cover reflects Coltrane’s intensity and vision. But to get the full effect, listen to his music. 

Bruce Springsteen

The Wild, The Innocent & The E-Street Shuffle (1973)

It’s hard to overstate the impact of Springsteen on New Jersey teenagers in the ’70s. Those early songs were like mini-operas, filled with love, anguish and the beckoning road just outside your window. Musically, his first couple of albums remain a touchstone. And this one, in particular, still takes my breath away. His pensive gaze shows an artist fully immersed in his music and the stories he wants to tell.  

Nina Simone

Pastel Blues (1965)

Nobody sings like Nina Simone. Each syllable hits some part of your heart or mind or both at once. Musically, she gives you permission to sing exactly what you feel. I don’t mean the words—I mean the feelings beneath the words. This is an uncommon gift you hear in everything she does. I’m also a big admirer of her brave and ethical politics. This cover expresses that courage, and the forthrightness of her musical approach.

Glenn Gould

Bach: The Goldberg Variations (1956)

I was introduced to the pianist and Bach by the film Thirty Two Short Films about Glenn Gould, which my wife and I saw a long time ago at a small theater in Albuquerque. This album demonstrates Gould’s artistry and his ability to get inside Bach’s infinite takes on the soul. Each layer uncovers a whole new world.