One of the tortures of putting together On Second Listen is what we don’t have time to share. Sometimes it’s a surprising connection between two recordings. Sometimes it’s an artist doing something entirely unexpected. And sometimes it’s a piece of musical history that makes me wonder how I managed not to know it already.
Episode 7 provided plenty of all three.
Jim Morrison walks into a German cabaret…
What do The Doors and a German theatrical production from the 1920s have in common?
“Alabama Song (Whisky Bar),” for starters.
Long before Jim Morrison was asking someone to show him the way to the next whisky bar, Bertolt Brecht and Kurt Weill had incorporated the song into their theatrical world. It appeared in their 1927 Little Mahagonny songspiel and subsequently in the opera Rise and Fall of the City of Mahagonny.
The really peculiar part? Despite its German theatrical origins, the song was written in English. Brecht’s original text predates Weill’s musical setting.
We paired The Doors with Lotte Lenya, whose association with Weill and Brecht goes back to the beginning. It’s a remarkable journey from Weimar-era musical theater to psychedelic rock.
And it was a listener (John... Professor K) who suggested we take it.
That was the premise of our first segment, Second Listens from Listeners, which also took us from Manfred Mann’s Earth Band back to Gustav Holst’s Jupiter, and from Suzanne Vega’s unaccompanied “Tom’s Diner” to the dance remix that helped turn it into an international hit.
The DNA remix of “Tom’s Diner” is an especially interesting case. Rather than recording a new vocal, the producers built an entirely different musical environment around Vega’s existing performance. Same voice, same melody, same words—and suddenly a different record.
It’s a reminder that a second listen doesn’t always require a second singer.
Gregory Porter: A voice that travels
I’ve been a fan of Gregory Porter’s extraordinary voice, and this episode gave me an excuse to explore its versatility.
We heard him reinterpret “Feeling Good,” associated so memorably with Nina Simone, and “Skylark,” which we introduced through Dinah Shore.
Then we reversed the process.
Instead of Porter interpreting somebody else’s music, we heard somebody else reimagine Porter’s: Claptone’s remix of “Liquid Spirit.”
What interests me about this progression is how much a recording’s identity depends on everything around the singer. Arrangement, instrumentation, rhythm, production—even the implied audience—can change while the vocal performance remains recognizably itself.
Porter sounds entirely at home in both a jazz club and a dance club. I suspect not many singers could pull that off.
Funny people, funny records—and one surprisingly serious song
Remember when comedians made records?
Not just comedy albums, but actual songs, sometimes accompanied by elaborate music videos?
Eddie Murphy, Rodney Dangerfield, Howie Mandel, and Steve Martin all made the transition, with varying degrees of musical ambition and success.
The 1980s were particularly fertile ground for this sort of thing. MTV offered comedians another way to reach an audience, and the distinction between a novelty record and a pop hit could become rather blurry.
Eddie Murphy’s “Party All the Time,” for example, was produced by Rick James and reached number two on the Billboard Hot 100. Whatever else you think of it, that’s a bona fide hit.
Steve Martin’s “King Tut,” meanwhile, reminds us that a comedian could have a hit record without pretending for a moment to be a serious pop singer. Martin was, however, a serious banjo player—something that would become an increasingly important part of his career.
But the biggest surprise for me was Steven Wright.
Wright’s comedy is built on deadpan delivery, surreal observations, and a kind of philosophical bewilderment. One of my favorite lines of his concerns buying batteries, only to discover they weren’t included.
His song “Maybe Why” initially sounds like an extension of that persona. It wonders why we’re here, what it all means, and whether there’s any answer to be found.
But by the end, Wright arrives at something unexpectedly tender: perhaps the people we know and love are reason enough.
It’s a small, sincere conclusion to a song about very large questions.
Who knew that Steven Wright might leave us with one of the most touching moments of the episode?
Autumn leaves, October skies, and two Francises
Our final segment was devoted to October and autumn, which turns out to be an excellent excuse to explore music across languages and generations.
Consider “Autumn Leaves.”
Most English-speaking listeners know the Johnny Mercer lyrics, perhaps through recordings by Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole, or Eva Cassidy. But the song began as “Les Feuilles mortes,” with French lyrics by poet Jacques Prévert and music by Joseph Kosma.
The English version isn’t simply a word-for-word translation. Mercer retained the autumnal imagery and the sense of romantic loss, but created a lyric with its own structure and emotional emphasis.
That’s part of what makes comparing Eva Cassidy with Yves Montand so rewarding. They’re not merely singing the same song in different languages. They’re inhabiting two related, but distinct, lyrical worlds.
We also heard Francis Cabrel’s “Octobre” alongside a Spanish-language adaptation, “Octubre.” It’s a lovely opportunity to hear what happens when a song moves between two closely related languages.
And then there was another Francis.
Francis Albert Sinatra, to be precise.
Our autumn excursion took us from Francis Cabrel to Frank Sinatra’s “Autumn in New York,” followed by Harry Connick Jr.’s piano interpretation.
Two Francises, separated by an ocean, a generation, and rather different musical traditions.
I can’t claim that was a profound musical discovery. But I enjoyed it.
We closed with Barry Manilow’s “When October Goes,” with lyrics by Johnny Mercer and music composed by Manilow after Mercer’s death.
Which brings us, rather neatly, back to Mercer and “Autumn Leaves.”
Sometimes the connections practically write themselves.
A few things worth exploring
For anyone who enjoys following the words as well as the music, here are a few opportunities for a second listen of your own:
“Les Feuilles mortes” / “Autumn Leaves” — Compare Jacques Prévert’s French original with Johnny Mercer’s English adaptation. https://genius.com/Yves-montand-les-feuilles-mortes-lyrics https://genius.com/Eva-cassidy-autumn-leaves-lyrics
“Octobre” / “Octubre” — Follow Francis Cabrel’s song from French into Spanish. https://genius.com/Francis-cabrel-octobre-lyrics https://genius.com/Francis-cabrel-octubre-lyrics
And if you have a pair of recordings that deserves a second listen, please send it along. This week’s listener-contributed segment was a reminder that some of the most interesting connections come from outside my own record collection.
You can find previous episodes, previews, and more at OnSecondListen.com.
Thanks for listening—and for listening again.