Sheryl Crow whose birthday is today . Happy Birthday BTW . has performed with . myriad of 90s and 00s bands or solo artists of all genres.
We have selected thirteen of them.
They are . Prince, Keith Richards, The Rolling Stones, Steve Earle, Willie Nelson . Eric Clapton, Joe Walsh, James Gang, The Dixie Chicks, Stevie Nicks, Emmylou Harris, Sarah McLachlan, Liz Phair
Here, they are reunited in one glorious playlist. Enjoy!
Tracklist
1 . Prince . EveryDay Is . Winding Road“Everyday Is a Winding Road” is Sheryl Crow at her mid-90s peak, blending self-reflective lyrics with an easy, road-trip-ready groove. Co-written with Jeff Trott and Brian MacLeod, the song captures a kind of wandering resilience, inspired by Paul Hester’s battles with depression. There’s heft beneath the breezy façade, yet it stops short of being overtly confessional, leaning instead on a universal metaphor that keeps things accessible. The track’s pop-rock production is clean but leaves space for its mood to breathe, particularly with Neil Finn’s understated backing vocals adding texture and depth. A standout from her self-titled 1996 album, “Everyday Is a Winding Road” sits comfortably amid material that earned the project triple platinum status and a spot at number six on the Billboard 200. Its inclusion in the John Travolta drama “Phenomenon” solidified its cultural reach without overshadowing its roots in personal struggle. Prince’s 1999 cover on “Rave Un2 the Joy Fantastic” flips the script, stripping away the original’s sunny veneer for something sharper, almost sardonic. Having performed the song live with Crow during the Lilith Fair tour that same year, Prince brings his signature blues-inflected guitar work and characteristically enigmatic delivery, tweaking the lyrics to reflect his own aesthetic without losing sight of the song’s core. The alteration of coffee and nicotine into “[compliments] and herbal tea” exemplifies Prince’s habit of reframing even borrowed material in his image, aligning it with the more idiosyncratic flavor of “Rave Un2 the Joy Fantastic.” Both versions serve as time capsules of their respective creators’ energies—Crow’s emblematic ’90s sheen and Prince’s restless late-’90s experimentation—but neither eclipses the other, offering uniquely angled takes on this meandering road of a song. 
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2 . Keith Richards . HappyThe 1999 live rendition of “Happy” at Central Park carries the curious weight of its original 1972 recording while introducing Sheryl Crow as a duet partner for Keith Richards. Originally appearing on the Rolling Stones’ “Exile on Main St.,” Richards penned the song during a sun-soaked French summer in Villa Nellcôte, reportedly wrapping up its recording in a brisk four hours—a speed that feels like the antithesis of the sprawling moods “Exile” is often celebrated for. Yet, that breezy efficiency paradoxically anchors the song in a raw and raucous energy. The original track is a showpiece of Richards’ versatility, his raspy lead vocals complemented by his bass and guitar work, with Mick Jagger relegated to backup harmonies. The horn arrangements from Bobby Keys and Jim Price add a rebellious swagger, while Jimmy Miller’s drumming, untethered but precise, inoculates the song with a kind of muscular looseness. Despite this, its Billboard No. 22 peak might suggest the song resisted broader commercial seduction—fitting, perhaps, for a track titled “Happy.” Enter the live performance decades later, where Crow’s addition works more as a glow than a contrast. Her harmonies with Richards aren’t so much a reinvention as they are a shrugging acknowledgment of the song’s durability. Richards’ voice, weathered by then, veers closer to lived-in authenticity, meshing with Crow’s crystalline delivery in a manner that builds chemistry, but never a truly transformative synergy. It’s functional but stops short of interplay that fully evolves the track’s DNA. The video on YouTube bears witness to “Happy’s” capacity to sustain its sway, even in a looser, collaborative setting. But as a moment of convergence between two artists, the performance is more an exercise in amiable nostalgia than a firework of reinvention. “Happy” stays buoyant, yet it rarely sails. B
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3 . The Rolling Stones . Honky Tonk Women“Honky Tonk Women” remains a definitive artifact of The Rolling Stones’ golden era, balancing raw swagger with a touch of country-rock levity. First emerging as a single in July 1969, the track immediately ascended to number one on both the UK Singles Chart and the US Billboard Hot 100. Its cultural staying power, certified Gold by the RIAA, lies partly in Mick Jagger and Keith Richards’ songwriting—laced with grit yet accessible—and partly in that distinctive cowbell riff that announces the song like a sly grin in a smoky bar. Sheryl Crow’s appearances with The Rolling Stones during their “Steel Wheels” tour offered fresh air without displacing the track’s rootsy abrasiveness. Her voice, slightly brighter in texture, cuts through the Stones’ edgy instrumentation with an interesting contrast, preserving the track’s barroom irreverence while adding a shimmer of mid-’90s crossover appeal. As part of live performances, whether during Crow’s guest spots or otherwise, the song revels in its looseness. The precision of its cowbell might suggest structure, yet “Honky Tonk Women” feels tailored for improvisation, eliciting both participation and chaotic energy from audiences. And therein lies its brilliance—a song that refuses to be caged while still hitting its marks. Its placement on “Through the Past, Darkly (Big Hits Vol. 2)” in the UK and “Let It Bleed” in the US does little to mask the fact that it stands apart from its LP brethren. A singular work of crafted spontaneity, it’s the Stones at their most disheveled and charismatic.
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4 . Steve Earle . Time Has Come TodayThe cover of “Time Has Come Today” by Steve Earle and Sheryl Crow occupies an intriguing space in the landscape of reinterpretations, paying homage to the Chambers Brothers’ original while carving out its own subdued identity. First released by the Chambers Brothers in 1966 and elevated further by its 1968 Billboard Hot 100 peak at No. 11, the song thrives on its warped psychedelic edges, driven by fuzz guitar and percussive cowbells that defined its era. Earle and Crow’s 2000 rendition strips this sense of temporal disarray in favor of a tighter, more polished approach tailored to the “Steal This Movie!” soundtrack. While the inclusion in Earle’s compilation album “Side Tracks” suggests lingering affection for their take, the rendition feels more functional than transformative. Their voices—both distinctive and commanding in their own solo work—meld effectively but lack the ecstatic urgency that propelled the Chambers Brothers’ anthem into counterculture sainthood. Where the original leans into sonic experimentation with reverb and echo effects, this version feels comparatively restrained, perhaps reflecting the limits of adapting late-’60s psychedelia for a turn-of-the-millennium context. The omission of the original’s expansive, almost jam-like freedom situates the cover as a competent but somewhat subdued reiteration rather than a groundbreaker. It’s a reinterpretation that aligns more with the cohesive demands of a film soundtrack than with the raw, unfiltered power that the Chambers Brothers poured into their 1967 album, “The Time Has Come.” In a cinematic context, this tonal adjustment makes sense, effectively condensing the song’s sprawl for broader narrative applicability. Yet, as a standalone piece, it struggles to achieve the audacious fervor that made the original a cultural mainstay capable of leaving its mark across projects like “Coming Home,” “CSI: Crime Scene Investigation,” and “Supernatural.” By comparison, Crow and Earle’s version risks being just another name on the list of capable, if somewhat muted, covers—a sturdy vessel that arrives intact but lacks thunder in its sails.
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5 . Willie Nelson . City of New Orleans“City of New Orleans,” performed by Sheryl Crow and Willie Nelson, is a spirited live rendering of Steve Goodman’s poignant ode to a fading American tradition. Originally penned in the wake of Goodman’s train journey and Arlo Guthrie’s 1972 popularization, the song’s storytelling straddles wistful observation and fabricated details—necessary, as Goodman’s trip only reached southern Illinois. In this collaboration, captured in a 2009 YouTube video, Crow and Nelson harness their distinct vocal textures to reinvigorate the track’s narrative of rail-bound Americana. On one hand, Willie Nelson’s weathered voice lends the song a grounded gravitas, an audible echo of decades steeped in country music legacy. Conversely, Sheryl Crow’s polished yet emotive delivery provides a contemporary foil, softening the edges of Nelson’s rustic timbre. The absence of any studio album affiliation clarifies the project’s informal charm, showcasing the artists’ camaraderie rather than overproduced polish. Still, some might argue the performance drifts into territory that’s overly reverent, perhaps too constrained by its loyalty to the source material to push the boundaries of interpretation. While Crow and Nelson infuse the song with warmth and undeniable chemistry, their rendition feels less chiseled than inherited—a faithful homage rather than a bold reinvention. What emerges is a performance with undeniable merit but little reinvigoration, nodding to the past yet hesitant to chart its own course.
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6 . Eric Clapton . White RoomSheryl Crow and Eric Clapton’s rendition of “White Room” finds its footing in a live 1999 collaboration during Crow’s “Sheryl Crow and Friends: Live from Central Park” concert, a setting that lends the classic Cream track a polished, if not overly exciting, veneer. The weight of the original, built on Jack Bruce’s soaring vocals and the jagged interplay of Clapton’s guitar and Ginger Baker’s drums, hangs heavily over this performance. Here, Clapton revisits old ground, but the rawness that defined Cream’s 1968 version, recorded in sessions stretching across two years and multiple studios, feels sanitized in its Central Park reimagining. The song’s signature 5/4 opening, once ominous and hypnotic, lands more as a tip of the hat than a deliberate choice, lacking the strange-yet-perfect tension Cream initially conjured. Sheryl Crow adds her characteristic professionalism, but her presence in the track feels more like an afterthought than a meaningful reinvention. The original’s violas, overseen by producer Felix Pappalardi, are swapped for a broader live arrangement, which smooths out the edges rather than sharpening them. The result is competent yet restrained—more a tribute to Cream’s chart-topper, which peaked at number 81 on the US Billboard Hot 100 and found belated acclaim in *Rolling Stone*’s “500 Greatest Songs of All Time,” than an attempt to bring new angles to the table. Given that Deep Purple’s 2021 cover on “Turning to Crime” and myriad others have approached “White Room” with varying levels of reverence and creativity, Clapton and Crow’s collaboration serves as a reminder of the song’s legacy without making a particularly strong case for itself.
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7 . Joe Walsh & James Gang . Walk Away“Walk Away” by the James Gang, featuring Joe Walsh, encapsulates a rugged mixture of emotional candor and instrumental chaos that set the stage for Walsh’s subsequent career trajectory. The song first appears on the James Gang’s 1971 album “Thirds” and secures its place in history by outperforming its predecessor “Funk #49” on the Billboard Hot 100, peaking at No. 51. Yet, calling the achievement monumental might feel overstated; the track’s chart position hovers in a respectable but unremarkable middle zone—a reflection perhaps of its idiosyncratic appeal. Walsh’s credit on the track as “guitar, vocals, and train wreck” is no euphemism. The chaotic ending, built on overdubbed riffs, slide guitar flourishes, and physical guitar abuse, feels intentionally unpolished, almost reveling in its self-destructive flair. Recorded live for 1971’s “James Gang Live in Concert” at Carnegie Hall—where the James Gang had the distinction of being the first rock band to storm that hallowed stage—the track proves its vitality in a live setting. A guitar-soaked anthem anchored to the bitterness of a relationship’s demise, the lyrics are unapologetically raw, aligning perfectly with the song’s jagged instrumentation. After Walsh joined the Eagles in 1975, “Walk Away” found a second life on their setlist, blending into their expansive sonic tapestry while retaining its rawer edge through 2024. The song’s multifaceted endurance is further demonstrated through collaborations such as the 2019 “CMT Crossroads” performance with Sheryl Crow, an intersection of eras and sensibilities. “Walk Away” is no polished gem of precision; it thrives in its imperfections, a pre-Eagles relic of Walsh’s proud chaos that may alienate perfectionists but resonates with those willing to embrace its jagged truth.
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8 . The Dixie Chicks . It Don’t Hurt“It Don’t Hurt,” performed by Sheryl Crow and featuring the Dixie Chicks, finds its home on the live album “Sheryl Crow and Friends: Live from Central Park,” released in 1999. As part of a setlist that showcases Crow’s knack for blending musical styles, the song serves as a snapshot of a night brimming with collaborative energy, bolstered by guest appearances from legends like Stevie Nicks, Chrissie Hynde, Sarah McLachlan, Eric Clapton, and Keith Richards. The live nature of the recording guarantees a raw and dynamic edge, yet it leaves the track teetering between polished professionalism and spontaneous fervor. On the US Billboard 200, “Sheryl Crow and Friends” peaked at number 107—a middling achievement for an effort drawing on such a high-profile roster, albeit one overshadowed by the live album’s gold status in Canada thanks to sales of 50,000 units. Crow’s performance in “It Don’t Hurt,” complemented by the Dixie Chicks’ instrumentation, leans heavily into her ability to straddle rock and country moods with ease. Still, the song’s appeal feels somewhat limited, caught between capturing the grandeur of the Central Park concert and the more intimate, narrative-driven approach listeners might expect from the featured artists. It’s an energetic instrumental showcase, yet not quite the standout moment in a night where covers and collaborations occasionally overpower the originals.
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9 . Stevie Nicks . Are You Strong Enough…“Strong Enough,” released in 1993 on Sheryl Crow’s debut album “Tuesday Night Music Club,” leans into fragility with a sharp edge. Co-written with Bill Bottrell, Kevin Gilbert, Brian MacLeod, and David Baerwald, the track approaches the aching unraveling of relationships not with melodrama but with defiant vulnerability. Crow sings, “Lie to me, I promise I’ll believe,” an admission that feels more like a sardonic challenge than resignation, skewering traditional gender norms with an almost conversational nonchalance. The refrain, “Are you strong enough to be my man?” flips the usual script, pressing its target for emotional endurance rather than stoic strength. Performed live numerous times, including a notable 2019 appearance at ShoalsFest featuring Amanda Shires, the song transforms under the weight of a collaborative presence, where harmonies amplify its emotional tension. A performance in 2023 with Stevie Nicks in Brooklyn balances rawness with lived-in wisdom, both women’s voices casting a gravelly shadow across the once-polished core of the original recording. Lyrically, its strength lies in its understatement; these aren’t epiphanies but quiet realizations that slip straight into the marrow. The production, though deeply reflective of the ’90s alternative-pop aesthetic, risks feeling muted against the potency of its themes—by no means a fatal flaw, but one that keeps its impact short of seismic. Still, as a marker of its era, “Strong Enough” stands tall, a song that asks questions it knows the answers to but demands to hear them spoken aloud anyway.
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10 . Emmylou Harris . JuanitaThe song “Juanita” by Sheryl Crow and Emmylou Harris, occupying a tight 2:42 on the 1999 tribute album “Return of the Grievous Angel: A Tribute to Gram Parsons,” is as much a snapshot of Parsons’s songwriting partnership with Chris Hillman as it is a testament to the enduring allure of country-rock’s golden era. Produced by Emmylou Harris and Paul Kremen, the track traverses familiar emotional terrain laid down by Parsons and Hillman, but it manages to feel intimate rather than overworked. Crow’s smoother, contemporary edge glides over the rough-hewn sincerity of the material, while Harris—who seems permanently tethered to Parsons’s legacy—provides that lived-in, lonesome harmony that reinforces the song’s dusty authenticity. The pairing is effective enough, though it risks tipping into a dynamic that feels unequal: Harris, steeped in the tradition these songs came from, grounds the performance with pathos, while Crow’s contributions hover in a more polished but less distinctive register. As part of a collection that spans Parsons’s work with the International Submarine Band, the Flying Burrito Brothers, and his solo material, “Juanita” captures more of a wistful remembrance than an urgent reinvention. That it wasn’t included in the live performances on PBS’s “Sessions at West 54th Street” (also tied to the album’s release) could speak to its quiet, unassuming nature, perhaps overshadowed by louder, flashier tributes elsewhere on the record. Resting within the framework of a charitable project benefiting Vietnam Veterans of America Foundation’s “Campaign for a Landmine Free World,” the song reflects a dual nod to Parsons’s ethos of sincerity and a contemporary commitment to social action. But as poignant as “Juanita” can feel, its brevity and lack of dramatic tension leave it more in the realm of a respectful homage than a standout reinterpretation. For fans of Parsons or Harris, it’s a satisfying connection to the past, but as a collaboration, it occasionally strains under the weight of unequal gravitas.
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11 . Sarah McLachlan . Angel“Angel” from Sarah McLachlan’s 1997 album “Surfacing” has long been a paradigm of poignancy, a slow-burning meditation on loss framed by its inspiration: the fatal overdose of Jonathan Melvoin, touring keyboardist for Smashing Pumpkins. When Sheryl Crow invited McLachlan to perform this intimate song as a duet during the “Sheryl Crow and Friends: Live from Central Park” concert in 1999, the collaboration seemed as calculated as it was affecting. McLachlan’s plaintive delivery, matched by Crow’s earthy timbre, revealed less interplay between their voices and more alternating moments of solitary emotion. A duet, yes—but not necessarily a merging of styles. The live album from the concert, released on December 7, 1999, preserved this rendition, which has since achieved archival status among fans. Context matters here: Crow’s career, driven by radio-ready grit, intersects with McLachlan’s ethereal stylings at a point that feels more about convening celebrity than amplifying the song’s soul. In rehearsals on September 13, 1999—sessions the pair reportedly repeated for precision—the attempt to create an unforgettable performance shows through in the polish but not in the emotional risk-taking. It’s not devoid of merit. The guest-packed Central Park lineup, featuring the likes of Eric Clapton and Stevie Nicks, adds weight to the occasion, even if McLachlan and Crow’s “Angel” risks being overshadowed. The video of their performance, abundant on platforms like YouTube, captures a moment less about reinterpretation and more about respectful reproduction. What it gains in technical balance, it perhaps loses in spontaneous vulnerability.
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12 . Liz Phair . Soak Up The SunSheryl Crow’s “Soak Up the Sun,” featuring faint yet distinct background vocals by Liz Phair, feels like a brisk walk through a radio-friendly landscape crafted for maximum accessibility. Released as the marquee single from her 2002 album “C’mon, C’mon,” the song pairs crowd-pleasing melodies with a bubblegum pop sheen that is as calculated as it is breezy. Written alongside longtime collaborator Jeff Trott, the track stems from an airline chat that spawned the kind of polished simplicity pop thrives on. Its structure is powered by an E major brightness at 120 beats per minute, a tempo that cocktails optimism with passable restraint. Crow’s acoustic guitar and F/X keyboard interplay amicably with Trott’s layered electric, acoustic, and lap steel guitar contributions, while his bass lines and Jeff Anthony’s drum work do just enough without attempting to outshine the deliberately carefree mood. The music video, directed by Wayne Isham, sticks to surf-and-sand imagery, filmed under the ever-hospitable Hawaiian sun of Oahu. While the visual reinforces the track’s leisure-first identity, it doesn’t step beyond the expected. As a summer anthem, “Soak Up the Sun” fit its intended timing in post-winter 2002, an era still colored by the heavy undertones of the September 11 aftermath. The warmth it offers feels curated, a prescription rather than an experience. Chart success was substantial—topping Billboard’s Adult Top 40, Adult Alternative, and Dance Club lists, and peaking respectably on the Hot 100 at #17. Yet despite such accolades, one can’t help but notice its transactional nature: it’s a song built to be liked, not loved. Played at the 2002 AFC Championship Game for a correspondingly wide audience, it doubles as a case study in pop’s ability to deliver just enough uplift while hedging its depth. Liz Phair’s subtly tucked-in vocals underscore the song’s ethos: engagement without intrusion. “Soak Up the Sun” executes its formulas well, even if it never exceeds them.
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