This week In One-Off Collaborations 10

Taylor Swift . Ed Sheeran, Neil Young . Willie Nelson, David Gilmour, David Crosby . Graham Nash, Roger Taylor . Foo Fighters, Mary J. Blige . Marc Anthony, Leon Russell . Zac Brown Band, Neil Finn . Eddie Vedder, Chris Stapleton . Justin Timberlake, Cyndi Lauper . Charlie Musselwhite, Miley Cyrus . Melanie Safka, Shakira . Rihanna, Carminho . Milton Nascimento

They are the 12 one-off collaborations selected among the 355 Posts we publish this week.

Here, they are reunited in one glorious playlist. Enjoy!

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Tracklist

1 . Taylor Swift & Ed Sheeran . Lego House

It’s rare for a song to carve its identity in a house made of tiny plastic bricks, but Ed Sheeran’s “Lego House” does just that—with a quiet intensity that belies its seemingly playful title.

Lifted from Sheeran’s 2011 album “+ (plus),” the track balances its melancholy lyricism with soothing acoustics, creating a gentle cocoon for listeners to inhabit.

The music video, starring the perpetually wide-eyed Rupert Grint, offers a quirky twist on fandom obsession, with Grint embodying a doppelgänger unraveling into mania—a clever nod to Sheeran’s ginger-haired celebrity doppelgänger status.

But it’s not just the visuals that linger; Sheeran’s knack for penning sincere, conversational lyrics ensures “Lego House” remains grounded, steering clear of saccharine sentimentality.

For those critiquing his crossover potential at the time, his stateside duet with Taylor Swift added weight to Sheeran’s appeal—a collaboration born out of mutual admiration and casual charm rather than cynical market calculation.

“Lego House” doesn’t shout; it barely even raises its voice. Yet it lingers, quietly assembling its emotional impact like the pieces of its titular metaphor.


Lifted from : Taylor Swift sings in London then Ed Sheeran walks in (2014)

2 . Neil Young & Willie Nelson . Heart of Gold

There’s a certain timeless charm in “Heart of Gold,” Neil Young’s introspective ode to vulnerability that somehow managed to become his sole U.S. chart-topping hit. For a track that clocks in at just over three minutes, it’s deceptively unassuming—an acoustic melody that feels like it walked in from the back porch, unpolished yet quietly profound.

The understated genius of its composition fades into the background for many listeners, who might be too focused on the harmonica that threads its way through like a tender sigh. Recorded in Nashville in 1971, the song reflects a pivotal moment in Young’s career, one where folk and rock collided to form a reflective masterpiece on his “Harvest” album.

Performances with Willie Nelson, particularly at Farm Aid events, spotlight the song’s enduring resonance. Whether in 1995 or 2023, the live renditions retain a rooted, almost stubborn sincerity that avoids the pitfalls of overproduced nostalgia. The chemistry between Nelson’s weathered voice and Young’s plaintive delivery injects fresh life into a standard from decades past.

Beneath its simplicity lies a tension—between commercial success and artistic sincerity. For a performer so often resistant to mainstream expectations, Young’s climb to No. 1 both in the U.S. and Canada is a curious contradiction. Yet, its appeal is undeniable; Rolling Stone’s persistent reshuffling of its ranking on the “500 greatest songs” list, landing at No. 259 in 2021, reflects a song that refuses to age quietly.

The B-side, “Sugar Mountain,” hints at the complexities brewing in Young’s creative psyche, although it’s overshadowed by the appeal of this front-porch anthem. “Heart of Gold” is not a declaration—it’s a search. And therein lies its enduring hold: it belongs not to Young, but to anyone who fumbles toward something meaningful with a harmonica in hand and the weight of sincerity on their shoulders.


Lifted from : Reprise publish Neil Young’s fourth album . ‘Harvest’ featuring ‘Old Man’ and ‘Heart of Gold’ (1972)

3 . David Gilmour, David Crosby & Graham Nash . On An Island

It’s hard to imagine a more serene auditory canvas than “On an Island,” David Gilmour’s unmistakable smear of watercolor on the palette of modern rock.

Here, Gilmour’s signature guitar work doesn’t scream or demand; it breathes, against a backdrop buoyed by the lush vocal harmonies of David Crosby and Graham Nash.

Is it an ode to escapism, a wistful nod to isolation, or simply an excuse to get two-thirds of Crosby, Stills & Nash into the studio? Take your pick—Gilmour plays everyone’s therapist, providing just enough to let you fill in the blanks.

The live recordings, famously captured at the Royal Albert Hall, are where this track deepens its charm, turning studio sterility into organic warmth, aided by the palpable chemistry between the players.

Even at the Hollywood Bowl a decade later, its delicate melancholy doesn’t wither; instead, it blooms into something even more fragile, as Gilmour and Crosby share the moment like two old friends reminiscing over a grainy photo.

Though the song’s introspection and restrained pace might irk those looking for the larger-than-life Gilmour of Floyd’s heyday, dismissing it as dull would be missing the point entirely.

It’s less an anthem than it is a daydream, coasting on a breeze of understated grandeur and a quiet confidence that whispers rather than roars.

In a catalog peppered with the seismic and the cosmic, “On an Island” insists Gilmour’s narrative need not always be writ large to resonate deeply.


Lifted from : Happy Birthday Graham Nash. ‘Nash Flow’

4 . Roger Taylor & Foo Fighters . Under Pressure

The Foo Fighters’ Super Saturday Night show in 2019 injects adrenaline into a pre-Super Bowl tradition by pulling Roger Taylor into their orbit for a seismic rendition of “Under Pressure.”

This Queen-David Bowie classic thrives under Taylor Hawkins’ unexpectedly charismatic lead vocals, reshaped with a frenetic energy punctuated by the veteran drummer’s presence.

The performance finds itself surrounded by similarly genre-crossing cameos, where Zac Brown and Tom Morello detonate “War Pigs,” and Perry Farrell adds a raw edge to “Mountain Song.”

The choice to stream the event live underscores the occasion’s immediacy, yet the true electricity of the moment lies in the collaboration’s sheer audacity, as the Foo Fighters reaffirm their knack for fusing iconic rock legacies with their own unrestrained identity.

This hybrid approach, at once celebratory and unpolished, refracts the tensions between reverence for the old guard and the hunger to carve new sonic mayhem.


Lifted from : The Foo Fighters play the day before the Super Bowl (2019)

5 . Mary J. Blige & Marc Anthony . America The Beautiful

Mary J. Blige and Marc Anthony’s rendition of “America the Beautiful” at Super Bowl XXXVI walks the fine line between heartfelt patriotism and ceremonial grandeur, framed by the haunting shadow of 9/11.

Performed inside the Louisiana Superdome, their voices complement and contrast: Blige’s soulful range meeting Anthony’s Latin tenor, a pairing that elevates a hymn often trapped in predictable pageantry.

The timing of this performance is almost heavier than the song itself—it wasn’t just a pregame nod to tradition but a segment imbued with collective sorrow and resilience, as the nation was not only grieving but trying to recalibrate its identity.

The Super Bowl’s unusual February date, a ripple effect of the shaken NFL season, only intensified the performance’s significance, suspending football fans in a rare moment of unity before the chaos of kicking off a game.

Musically, they don’t stray far from the safe path, which works here; this wasn’t an occasion for vocal gymnastics or lyrical reinterpretation but a call for reflection delivered with genuine sincerity.

Is it groundbreaking? Hardly. But in the context of that cold February evening, it didn’t need to reinvent the wheel—it just needed to remind everyone why they were gathered, even beyond football.


Lifted from : On TV today . Mary J. Blige . Marc Anthony at ”Super Bowl XXXVI’ (2002)

6 . Leon Russell & Zac Brown Band . America The Beautiful, Chicken Fried

On January 31, 2010, the Zac Brown Band shared the stage with Leon Russell at the 52nd Grammy Awards, delivering an eclectic set that bridged patriotism, nostalgia, and country charm. One of the highlights was their rendition of “America the Beautiful,” a moment that injected a dose of patriotic sentiment into the flashy ceremony. The pairing of Russell’s gritty, blues-inflected style with Zac Brown’s polished, country-pop vocals added an intriguing tension to a song often treated as a straightforward anthem.

The performance seamlessly transitioned into “Dixie Lullaby,” a Russell-penned track that taps into Southern rock grooves and backroads wistfulness. A less obvious choice for a Grammy setlist, it acted as a nod to Russell’s storied career and his influence on the Southern rock genre. While its inclusion felt deliberately niche, it gave the performance an air of authenticity that’s often missing at such events.

Then came “Chicken Fried,” Zac Brown Band’s breakout hit, which doubled as a crowd-pleaser and a manifesto for small-town comforts. With lyrics about fried chicken dinners and cold beer on a Friday night, it flirts with cliché but does so unapologetically, an ode to universality rather than subtlety. The soaring chorus and laid-back rhythm bring the song into “car radio on an open highway” territory, but live, alongside Russell’s bluesy interjections, it gains a richer texture.

This Grammy outing coincided with the Zac Brown Band clinching the Best New Artist award, a win that spoke not just to their prowess but also to their timing—a folksy act breaking through at a moment when Americana enjoyed a resurgence. Russell’s presence, meanwhile, was more than a passing collaboration; it symbolized a musical handoff, from a rock and blues veteran to a younger band toeing the line between tradition and mainstream success.

While song-by-song collaborations like this risk veering into disjointed territory, this set avoided that pitfall, largely thanks to how well each piece reflected a shared ethos of blending heartfelt simplicity with restrained musicianship. Some might argue that “America the Beautiful” felt a touch formulaic in its delivery, or that “Chicken Fried” leaned too heavily on familiar tropes, but dismissing these songs outright misses the point. This trio of tracks—patriotic opener, Southern rock interlude, and country-pop closer—provided not just a crowd-pleasing performance but also a snapshot of what happens when two distinct eras of American music briefly overlap.


Lifted from : Leon Russell sits in with the Zac Brown Band (2010)

7 . Neil Finn & Eddie Vedder . Throw Your Arms Around Me, History Never Repeats

“Throw Your Arms Around Me” enjoys a peculiar kind of immortality, a song so steeped in raw, aching intimacy that it seems to transcend time, geography, and even its original creators—Australian rockers Hunters & Collectors. In the hands of Neil Finn and Eddie Vedder, it is less a cover than a shared confidant passed between two old mates who know each other’s highs and lows too well. Vedder’s revisionist twist on the lyrics—boosting the number of kisses from four to a wandering 155—feels like the musical equivalent of doodling on a love letter someone else wrote, earnest but endearingly excessive. Finn’s understated charm brings a balance to Vedder’s theatrics, but there’s a curious irony in how this duet softens the raw sensuality of the original, replacing its yearning with the warm buzz of nostalgia.

It’s hard to walk into “History Never Repeats” without tripping over its title, especially since Split Enz seems to have literally defied it by looping themselves into the permanent playlist of New Zealand’s subconscious. Neil Finn’s songwriting here operates with a kind of cheerful fatalism—like someone shrugging while the world implodes in Technicolor. Eddie Vedder’s periodic guest appearances on this track over the years, including that 1995 Auckland performance with Neil and Tim Finn, feel like a punk crashing a family reunion. The pairing works precisely because of its clash: Vedder lends a growl to Finn’s melodic optimism, creating a tension that makes the song feel alive even decades past its genesis. Both tracks are less about reinvention and more about finding shared resonance, a tuning fork vibrating across years of personal evolution and public performance.


Lifted from : On Australian TV today . Neil Finn meets Eddie Vedder (2014)

8 . Chris Stapleton & Justin Timberlake . Drink You Away

“Drink You Away” is Justin Timberlake’s attempt at fusing whiskey-soaked heartbreak with a groove-laden, almost gospel exuberance.

Originally featured on his 2013 album “The 20/20 Experience — 2 of 2,” the track bursts with a kind of muscular melancholy, pairing blues riffs with a pop sheen that never feels entirely comfortable in its skin.

Things got even more interesting during the 2015 CMA Awards, where Timberlake joined Chris Stapleton for a barnstorming medley of “Tennessee Whiskey” and this very song.

It didn’t just liven up the event—it acted as Stapleton’s golden ticket to the wider stage of mainstream recognition.

Timberlake’s clean vocals alongside Stapleton’s gruff sincerity created a juxtaposition that, while thrilling, felt like two slightly mismatched puzzle pieces somehow forced to click.

The lyrics spiral through themes of sorrow and self-medication, though they stop short of breaking new emotional ground and, instead, lean heavily on familiar tropes.

The CMA performance pushed Timberlake’s creation into the country-radio orbit, a surprising home for a song that feels more blues-rock than Nashville hitmaker fare.

David Fanning’s earlier version from 2014, while competent, lacked the swagger Timberlake and Stapleton injected into it later.

The track’s legacy, however, is less about the song itself and more about the cultural collision it represents—a synthetic bridge between Memphis bravado and Kentucky grit.

For better or worse, it reminds listeners what happens when pop stars trade their sequins for denim but can’t fully commit to the dust and dirt.


Lifted from : Happy Birthday Justin Timberlake. ‘The Justin Case’

9 . Cyndi Lauper & Charlie Musselwhite . I’m Just Your Fool

“I’m Just Your Fool” showcases an unexpected and dynamic pairing between Cyndi Lauper and renowned harmonica virtuoso Charlie Musselwhite.

Lifted from Lauper’s 2010 album *Memphis Blues*, this track stands as a nod to the song’s original writer, the legendary Marion Walter Jacobs, better known as Little Walter.

Lauper’s characteristic vocal tone provides a sharp edge that contrasts Musselwhite’s deeply entrenched blues harmonica, creating a blend that feels both traditional and unexpectedly modern.

The track glides just under the four-minute mark, delivering a compact burst of raw, unvarnished blues energy that aligns perfectly with the album’s broader homage to the genre.

Recorded at Electraphonic Studios in Memphis under the keen production of Scott Bomar and Bill Wittman, the album splashes Memphis history across its tracks, though not without inviting critique on how much it leans on its collaborators for authority.

This song, like the album as a whole, teeters between Lauper’s pop identity and her blues ambition—something that yields moments of genuine synergy, even if it occasionally feels like a tourist’s guided tour through blues territory.

Live renditions, such as Lauper’s 2016 performance at The Depot with Musselwhite in tow, amplify the track’s kinetic energy, as the harmonica steps fully into the spotlight while Lauper’s vocals remain unflinchingly assertive.

Ultimately, it’s less about reinvention and more about respect, with moments of playfulness and tension interwoven into a track that wears its history on its sleeve.


Lifted from : Happy Birthday Charles Musselwhite. ‘Here Comes Charlie!’

10 . Miley Cyrus & Melanie Safka . Look What They’ve Done To My Song Ma

Miley Cyrus & Melanie Safka’s rendition of “Look What They’ve Done to My Song Ma” captures a poignant, almost somber nostalgia intertwined with biting wit. Originally released by Safka in 1970, the song feels timeless, despite its prominent ’70s folk roots. Cyrus, with her distinctively raspy timbre, contrasts but complements Safka’s softer, reflective tone, creating a dynamic interplay that teeters between lament and defiance.

The performance staged as part of Miley’s ‘Happy Hippie Presents: Backyard Sessions’ carries an odd juxtaposition: a folksy, stripped-down duet wrapped in the aesthetic of 2015’s pop culture gloss. The Backyard Sessions, a conceptual mashup of polished production and backyard authenticity, find a comfortable pairing in this melancholic yet subtly biting song. It’s as if Cyrus channels the countercultural ethos of Melanie’s era but adapts it to her own—where philanthropy and performance collide on social media platforms.

Lyrically, the piece remains unyielding—a cynical ode to personal and artistic frustration. The “they” in the title remains deliberately vague, standing in for everyone from corporate overlords to the relentless expectations of an unforgiving audience. Cyrus, adding her distinct flair, injects the song with modern-day resonance, making it feel almost autobiographical given her ongoing tussles with fame and reinvention. For Safka, the song’s writer and original performer, it provides a moment of reclamation, a testament to the lasting bitterness of losing creative autonomy.

Musically, the duet avoids excess, sticking to minimal instrumentation that lets the lyricism shine through. Yet, even in its restraint, the arrangement slyly nods at the various interpretations that have preceded it, from Nina Simone’s aching jazz version to the New Seekers’ surprisingly upbeat pop hit. These echoes act as subtle reminders of how malleable yet persistently relevant the song has been across decades.

What could have leaned saccharine—a young Miley harmonizing next to the more understated Safka—is thankfully sidestepped. There’s a shared weariness in their voices, a recognition of the song’s still-troubling truths. But the performance isn’t sanctimonious, nor does it cling to the past. Instead, it’s transactional: a bridge between generations and sensibilities that returns “Look What They’ve Done to My Song Ma” to the spotlight without overstating or reinventing it beyond recognition.


Lifted from : Happy Birthday Melanie

11 . Shakira & Rihanna . Can’t Remember to Forget

“Can’t Remember to Forget You,” a collaboration between Shakira and Rihanna, is a curious cocktail of genres, weaving reggae, rock, and new wave pop into an uptempo track laden with emotional chaos.

Thematically, it trudges through the messy terrain of clinging to a toxic romantic flame, where bad decisions feel inexplicably good.

This isn’t uncharted territory for pop, but the allure lies in the star power of its performers and the polished production helmed by Shakira, John Hill, and Tom Hull.

The track’s musical underpinnings, played out in B minor at 138 beats per minute, are sleek but calculated, giving it a radio-friendly sheen while lacking any unexpected spikes of ingenuity.

Vocally, Shakira’s smoky intensity and Rihanna’s effortless cool contrast well, but the merging of their ranges—spanning from B3 to D5—feels more like a polished studio exercise than an organic spark of chemistry.

While the song flirted with global chart success, topping lists in Greece and Lebanon and grazing the New Zealand Top 40 at a lackluster number 32, its footprint feels broad but shallow.

Its cultural impact leaned heavily on its accompanying video, a sultry showcase of aesthetic over substance that amplified conversation more than the melody itself.

Altogether, it is less a groundbreaking fusion than a well-executed exercise in pop math, balanced but lacking the daring wit or raw spontaneity that might transcend its formula.


Lifted from : Happy Birthday Shakira

12 . Carminho & Milton Nascimento . Encontros . Despedidas

“Encontros e Despedidas,” brought to life by Carminho and Milton Nascimento, is a fusion of Portuguese fado and Brazilian music that feels neither forced nor overblown.

Born from a 2013 collaboration, the piece serves as a reminder of just how fruitful cross-cultural exchanges can be, even in an era saturated with international collaborations that often feel hollow.

Written by Fernando Brant and Milton himself, the song makes its home on Carminho’s album “Alma,” which originally dropped in 2012 and later resurfaced with bonus tracks, including this duet.

The track’s delicate balance comes from the interplay of Carminho’s fado-tinged melancholy and Nascimento’s emotionally rich vocals, which carry the warmth of Brazilian musical traditions without drowning in sentimentality.

You could almost forget that “Alma” went double platinum or that Carminho nabbed awards like the Golden Globe and Carlos Paredes Award at the time.

This collaboration prioritizes artistry over accolades, steering clear of the sterile polish that often plagues big-name team-ups.

The song meanders through loss and connection, building on the universal themes of parting and reunion, but it never tips into melodrama.

What truly anchors the piece is its live renditions, which strip away any excess polish found in the studio, letting the raw chemistry between the two artists take center stage.

Even if you’re unmoved by the broader narrative of Portuguese-Brazilian cultural intersections, Milton and Carminho’s vocal dance—and it is a dance—grant the song a timeless charm that defies easy categorization.


Lifted from : Carminho invites Milton Nascimento (2013)

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This week Top 20 New Music on RVM *

(*) According to our own statistics, upadted on February 16, 2025

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