This week In One-Off Collaborations 07/52

1 . 2Pac & Dr.Dre – California Love

“California Love” operates as both a nostalgic ode and a triumphal anthem, situating itself firmly in the timeline of West Coast hip-hop with the swagger of a cinematic spectacle.

Recorded on November 2, 1995, at Can-Am Studios, it captures 2Pac freshly unshackled from prison walls, injecting his verse with an urgency that feels as electric as the Los Angeles skyline it celebrates. The quick turnaround—2Pac reportedly wrote his verse in 15 minutes—adds to the track’s raw immediacy, though some may argue that the piece leans more on atmosphere than lyrical depth.

Dr. Dre’s production, initially crafted for his unreleased “The Chronic II,” provides the song a kaleidoscopic gloss, sampling Joe Cocker’s 1972 “Woman to Woman” with the precision of a master curator. Roger Troutman’s talk box hook interpolating Ronnie Hudson’s “West Coast Poplock” layers the track in an infectious funk, though its repetitiveness risks overshadowing 2Pac’s performance.

The original and remix are tools of sonic versatility, though the inclusion of the former exclusively on the UK version of “All Eyez on Me” perhaps complicates the track’s legacy. Still, topping the Billboard Hot 100 for two weeks and charting internationally in New Zealand, Italy, and Sweden demonstrates its global resonance. The music video, made mere days after the song’s completion, doubles as a Mad Max-inspired fever dream, extending its thematic grandeur.

A Grammy nomination in 1997 punctuates its cultural imprint, though its reliance on well-worn samples might leave purists debating its originality. In all, it’s less a towering lyrical piece and more a crystallization of West Coast vitality—and that, for better or worse, is its charm.

Lifted from : 2Pac releases his fourth album : ‘All Eyez on Me’ featuring ‘I Love L.A.’How Do U Want It’ and ‘California Love’ (1996)

2 . Johnny Cash & Waylon Jennings – Folsom Prison Blues

Johnny Cash and Waylon Jennings’ live rendition of “Folsom Prison Blues” at the inaugural Farm Aid concert in 1985 captures the essence of outlaw country’s defiant posture.

While Cash’s original 1955 recording and the storied 1968 live album “At Folsom Prison” hold canonical status, this collaboration offers a distinct energy fueled by the chemistry of two country heavyweights. Their performance doesn’t attempt to surpass the raw immediacy of the Folsom State Prison concert—instead, it thrives on the interplay of their distinctive baritone voices, Cash’s steely gravitas meeting Jennings’ rough-edged warmth.

Despite Cash owning the narrative of the song—a convict’s rueful meditation on freedom and regret—Jennings’ presence adds another layer, a kind of rugged camaraderie that reframes the tale without overshadowing its core. The live setting, too, strips the track of overproduction, leaving room for its starkness to shine, though some of the chilling, solitary weight of earlier versions gives way to a more performative dynamic here.

Vocally, it’s a idiosyncratic balance; Jennings’ contributions elevate certain lines but mask others in layers that tend to blunt the track’s sharper edges. On the other hand, the Farm Aid stage provides historical resonance—unifying two voices synonymous with championing the underdog within a concert meant to uplift struggling farmers, much like Cash’s prison concerts had connected with the marginalized decades prior.

Chart positions may not define this performance, nor does it carve new ground for the track’s legacy, but it stands as a testament to the mutual respect between two architects of a genre that thrives on grit and rebellion.

Lifted from : We Remember Waylon Jennings

3 . Sting & Peter Gabriel – Sledgehammer

The Rock Paper Scissors tour in 2016 put Sting and Peter Gabriel’s chemistry on full display, none more so than during their spirited rendition of “Sledgehammer.”

Originally released in 1986 as the flagship single from Gabriel’s fifth studio effort, “So,” and co-produced by Daniel Lanois, the song embodies an unapologetic embrace of funk and blue-eyed soul, dressed up in Gabriel’s meticulously layered production.

“Sledgehammer” sees Gabriel leaning heavily into a rhythmic confidence that dominated mid-’80s pop, a period when bombast often triumphed over subtlety. Its chart success, clinching No. 1 in the U.S. and Canada, and No. 4 in the UK, reflects its undeniable earworm appeal.

The music video, directed by Stephen R. Johnson and animated by Nick Park and The Brothers Quay, is as iconic as the song itself, a hyper-kinetic visual feast that bagged nine MTV Video Music Awards in 1987. Yet for all its visual ingenuity, does its clownish surrealism overshadow the music? Perhaps.

During the tour performances, Sting injects his own vocal panache into the track, gifting the song a looseness Gabriel’s studio perfectionism rarely allows. Their playful choreography during the encore is charming without careening into self-parody, a masterclass in two legends sharing the spotlight without ego.

Yet one wonders if Sting’s presence adds depth or merely dilutes Gabriel’s singular vision. “Sledgehammer” is deeply Gabriel’s in its DNA. Still, as a live collaboration, it serves its purpose: a jubilant finale that touts camaraderie over complexity.

Lifted from : Happy Birthday Peter Gabriel. ‘Big Timer’

4 . Sérgio Mendes , Erykah Badu & Will.I.Am – That Heat

“That Heat,” a standout from Sérgio Mendes’s “Timeless” album, pairs the iconic Brazilian bandleader with two distinctly American voices: Erykah Badu and will.i.am. Released in 2006, it’s the sonic equivalent of a cultural exchange program, merging neo-soul, hip-hop, and samba into a rhythmically rich but occasionally uneven blend.

Produced by will.i.am, whose fingerprints are across the entire “Timeless” album, the song reflects his knack for fusing the old with the new. Mendes’s Brazilian roots—soaked in the sunny sway of samba—anchor the track, while Badu’s unmistakable vocals float with a jazzy irreverence that contrasts sharply with the sleek production. It’s an infectious mix but occasionally feels too polished, as if the raw energy that defines each genre has been buffed smooth for mainstream appeal.

The inclusion of a music video, courtesy of the Concord Music Group, adds visual context to the song, though its modest online presence speaks to its status as more of a niche gem than a breakout hit. Unlike the album’s lead single, “Mas Que Nada,” which enjoyed commercial success and pop culture ubiquity, “That Heat” lingers in the shadow—underrated but not necessarily underappreciated by those who’ve encountered it.

Mendes, as always, brings an air of timelessness (no pun intended) to the proceedings, but it’s Badu and will.i.am who articulate the track’s contemporary ambitions. If anything, it tries to do too much—fitting samba, neo-soul, and hip-hop into one tidy framework is a tall order. Still, while it may not claim chart dominance, the song’s ambition reflects the broader ethos of “Timeless,” an album eager to bridge generational and cultural divides.

Lifted from : Concord publish Sérgio Mendes’ ‘Timeless,’ a collaborative album produced by will.i.am (2006)

5 . Willy DeVille & Jan Akkerman – Billy The Kid

“Billy The Kid” serves as an intriguing snapshot of what happens when two acclaimed yet stylistically distinct musicians cross paths. Willy DeVille, the enigmatic frontman of Mink DeVille turned solo artist, brings his blend of rock, blues, and Latin influences, while Jan Akkerman, the virtuoso guitarist from Focus, injects his trademark progressive precision. The result feels less like an even exchange and more like a tug-of-war between DeVille’s emotive theatricality and Akkerman’s technical intricacy.

Willy DeVille’s career, particularly with his band Mink DeVille, revolved around a smoky tapestry of urban romance and grit, but this collaboration finds him stepping into a looser, more improvisational space. It’s a fitting complement to Akkerman’s masterful guitar, a hallmark for fans of his time with Focus or his solo work. However, “Billy The Kid” lacks the polished narrative arc of DeVille’s more structured efforts, such as his 1987 solo album “Miracle,” produced and co-written by Mark Knopfler, with guitar assists from both Knopfler and Chet Atkins. That benchmark of polished craftsmanship makes the looser framework here stand out as both refreshing and slightly meandering.

The live performance footage floating around YouTube, while focused more on their duet renditions of tracks like “Save the Last Dance for Me,” offers a glimpse of the chemistry underlying their alliance. Yet, the precise dynamics of “Billy The Kid” as a live piece remain elusive. What seems clear is that their collaboration operates best in a live context, where Akkerman’s dexterous solos and DeVille’s raw charisma feed off one another explosively.

DeVille’s resume features moments of cinematic grandeur, such as “Storybook Love” in “The Princess Bride,” nominated for an Academy Award. Compared to that, “Billy The Kid” may not aim for the same heights, embodying a more niche experiment. For Akkerman, it’s another chapter in his diverse portfolio, though perhaps not a standout when juxtaposed with the legendary work of his Focus days. Together, they revel in their respective artistry without quite forging a signature stamp on this particular track. It’s a collaboration that intrigues, if not fully satisfies.

Lifted from : Willy DeVille meets Jan Akkerman (2008)

6 . Kylie Minogue & Robbie Williams – Kids

“Kids,” the Robbie Williams-Kylie Minogue duet from 2000, pairs the cheekiness of Williams with the polish of Minogue, delivering a pop anthem that feels equally playful and calculated.

Originally perched on “Sing When You’re Winning” and “Light Years,” the song represents a high-energy blend of vocal theatrics and production sheen shaped by Williams and co-writer Guy Chambers. Intentionally crafted for Minogue, the final product became a duet seemingly to capture their undeniable chemistry—though ‘chemistry’ here often reads as two performers playing to their respective brands.

Chart-wise, “Kids” peaked at number two on the UK Singles Chart while demonstrating international appeal with top-10 positions in Hungary and Ireland. Yet, it only reached number 14 in Minogue’s home country, Australia, where its gold certification suggests enthusiasm didn’t quite translate to ubiquity. Still, its media reincarnation as the “Junior Masterchef Australia” theme in 2010 hints at its lingering catchiness.

The accompanying video, directed by Simon Hilton, leans into a mishmash of cultural nostalgia with nods to “Grease” and Busby Berkeley—a fitting visual metaphor for a song that thrives on pastiche rather than innovation. The updated funkier arrangement for Williams’ 2022 “XXV” album reflects a desire to reframe the track while preserving its core ‘nudge-nudge-wink-wink’ energy. Whether this reinvention lands likely depends on the listener’s tolerance for re-shined pop artifacts.

Ultimately, “Kids” excels in calculated theatricality but flirts with hollowness, relying on its performers’ charisma to distract from a slight sense of over-manufacture.

Lifted from : Happy Birthday Robbie Williams. ‘Sing That’

7 . Chuck Berry & John Lennon – Johnny B Good

Chuck Berry’s “Johnny B. Goode,” released in 1958 on Chess Records, stands as a cornerstone of rock & roll, merging autobiographical nuance with electrifying guitar riffs.

The song’s protagonist—a young Louisiana man with dreams as expansive as his talent—mirrors Berry’s own ambitions and nods to the influence of collaborator Johnnie Johnson. Yet, the tale is sanitized for broader audiences, as “colored boy” transforms into “country boy,” a pragmatic adjustment aimed at navigating the racial climate of radio airplay in the late ’50s.

The iconic opening guitar riff channels Louis Jordan’s “Ain’t That Just Like a Woman,” bridging rhythm and blues with Berry’s distinct flair. The track, though sparking hits by others such as Jimi Hendrix and Peter Tosh, finds its most enduring resonance in cultural moments. From Springsteen’s Rock & Roll Hall of Fame rendition in 1986 to Marty McFly’s fictional take in “Back to the Future,” its reach extends from terrestrial pop charts to extraterrestrial recognition aboard the Voyager Golden Record.

Fast-forward to 1972, John Lennon and Elephant’s Memory joined Berry for a memorable live performance on “The Mike Douglas Show.” Lennon’s intro, proclaiming Berry synonymous with rock & roll itself, sets the bar high. While the collaboration captures Berry’s timeless energy, Yoko Ono’s discordant backing vocals threaten to derail the moment, injecting unintended chaos into an otherwise historic union between the Beatle and his idol.

Then, in 1986, Berry shares the stage with Julian Lennon during a tribute performance. The pairing, though sketched without exhaustive detail here, serves as a symbolic bridge between musical generations, with Berry’s legacy meeting the lineage of one of his most ardent admirers. “Johnny B. Goode” persists, not merely as a song but as a cultural artifact, eternally reinterpreted yet rarely rivaled in its impact.

Lifted from : On TV today , John Lennon meets Chuck Berry (1972)

8 . Ed Sheeran & Stormzy – Take Me Back To London (w/ Jaykae & Aitch]

“Take Me Back to London” is less a song and more a cultural snapshot, capturing Ed Sheeran and Stormzy at their respective peaks, then injecting a dose of regional flair with Jaykae and Aitch on the remix. It anchors itself to the city in its title, but the ambition here far outpaces the confines of London.

Ed Sheeran’s “No.6 Collaborations Project,” released in 2019, serves as the track’s home, an album defined by its genre-spanning partnerships. Here, the unlikely pairing of Sheeran and Stormzy finds its footing in a grime-inflected homage to their roots—a clever move for Sheeran, who’s spent much of his career on the pop-folk borderline more than the streets of the capital. Stormzy’s additions lend credibility, his South London upbringing and grime pedigree delivering an edge Sheeran alone can’t manufacture.

The remix, produced by Sir Spyro, sharpens the track with the inclusion of Jaykae and Aitch, two voices that tether the song to the UK’s broader rap landscape. Jaykae brings Birmingham’s accent and ethos, while Aitch’s inclusion adds a cheeky charm informed by Manchester’s grit. Together, they expand the track beyond London, though the title’s locality may suggest otherwise.

The song’s chart success—spending five weeks at number one and a total of 22 weeks in the UK Top 100—underscores its mass appeal. This isn’t a track that shakes the foundation of grime; instead, it packages the genre’s aesthetic into something palatable for the mainstream, thanks in part to Sheeran’s knack for a hook.

Thematically, there’s a literalism to the lyrics, an overly neat “ode to roots” that sometimes feels more like a branding exercise than genuine nostalgia. Stormzy carries much of the weight here, his verses adding the necessary gravity, yet even his rich baritone can’t disguise the occasional lapse into formula. The music video, meanwhile, bolsters its chart trajectory, a vivid, if predictable, supplement to an already glossy production.

For all its polish, “Take Me Back to London” wavers between innovation and safety. It’s grime-adjacent, pop-heavy, and commercially shrewd—a hit by design, not accident. Whether it’s a tribute to London or an opportunistic rail on its name, the listener decides. B+

Lifted from : Happy Birthday Ed Sheeran

9 . Al Jarreau & Kurt Elling – Take 5

The performance of “Take Five” by Al Jarreau and Kurt Elling is a study in vocal chemistry and mutual respect, offering a reinterpretation of one of jazz’s most iconic pieces.

Originally penned by Paul Desmond and immortalized by the Dave Brubeck Quartet in 1959, the piece’s signature 5/4 time signature is as much a challenge as it is a playground for improvisation. Jarreau and Elling, both celebrated for their vocal agility, take full advantage of this setup, trading and stacking phrases with precision.

Al Jarreau, known for his wide-ranging style and seven Grammy wins, injects a rhythmic sensibility into the performance that leans heavily on his earlier successes, such as the textured grooves of “Breakin’ Away.” His scatting adds an organic unpredictability, a reminder of why he spent decades collaborating with the likes of George Duke and Miles Davis. Jarreau balances Elling’s polished, almost architectural approach, which echoes the meticulous craftsmanship heard in albums like “Close Your Eyes.”

Elling, a two-time Grammy winner, brings his celebrated technical control and sharp phrasing into the mix. While Jarreau thrives in bursts of freeform expression, Elling seems more intent on weaving threads of harmonic coherence, pulling the piece together while subtly nodding towards earlier Beat-era jazz influences. His work with Laurence Hobgood and Terence Blanchard appears palpable in his ability to anchor and complement shifts initiated by Jarreau.

What anchors this performance is the timeless structure of “Take Five” itself—a piece so culturally embedded it once became the first jazz single to sell over a million copies. While neither vocalist explicitly reinvents the song, their interplay highlights the elasticity of Desmond’s composition, allowing space for two distinct voices to find common ground without overshadowing one another.

This collaboration doesn’t quite break new barriers but serves as a testament to each vocalist’s mastery. Jarreau’s restless energy meets Elling’s disciplined clarity, capturing the spirit of jazz interpretation without diluting the essence of the original. Call it a dialogue between generations, each informed by the past yet steadfastly rooted in their unique approaches.

Lifted from : We remember Al Jarreau. ‘Al Is For Always’

10 . Patti LaBelle & Michael McDonald – On My Own

“On My Own” is a curious case of emotional potency delivered through professional distance—the kind of duet where the singers did not actually meet until after it was already dominating airwaves.

Patti LaBelle and Michael McDonald’s voices intertwine, but not by design—rather through meticulous production by Burt Bacharach and Carole Bayer Sager. Gritty passion on LaBelle’s end pairs with McDonald’s smoother tones, creating a vocal friction that feels like an unplanned but effective alchemy.

Featured on LaBelle’s album “Winner in You,” the song is emblematic of mid-’80s pop balladry, a careful balance of sophisticated songwriting and accessible emotional arcs. Bacharach’s music molds the seriousness into digestibility, while Sager’s lyrics tread familiar themes of heartbreak and self-reliance without veering into the saccharine.

The commercial success is undeniable—”On My Own” reached number one in the USA, Canada, Ireland, and the Netherlands, cementing its place across airwaves and charts. Its performance on “The Tonight Show” might have been the first live meeting of its performers, but their connection on the track seems unaffected by the logistical oddity.

At times, the production feels overly polished, stripping some potential vulnerability out of the song’s core. Yet, it’s difficult to argue against the formula when it sold over a million copies and was certified Platinum.

“On My Own” is less a fiery lovers’ quarrel than a methodical unpacking of separation, elevated by its performers’ individual strengths but ultimately guided by seasoned hands behind the scenes.

Lifted from : Happy Birthday Michael McDonald. ‘On His Own’

11 . Stan Getz & Chet Baker – Dear Old Stockholm

The 1983 performance of “Dear Old Stockholm” at Stockholm’s Södra Teatern by Stan Getz and Chet Baker encapsulates the intricate push-and-pull between their storied musical camaraderie and personal tensions.

By this point in their careers, both artists brought decades of baggage—musical and otherwise—to the stage. The choice of “Dear Old Stockholm,” a jazz standard synonymous with lyrical phrasing and understated beauty, feels almost ironic given their differing improvisational instincts. Baker’s ethereal fragility on trumpet, often bordering on introspection, contrasts sharply with Getz’s tenor, which cuts a more fluid, velvet-lined pathway through the melody. Yet, there’s a strange magnetism in this disparity, as though the song itself becomes volatile terrain that they reluctantly share. The phrasing at times feels almost tentative, as if both are gauging each other’s moves in real-time.

The quartet setup, likely featuring Jim McNeely on piano, adds further texture, grounding the interplay between Getz and Baker. McNeely’s understated accompaniment operates almost as a mediator, simultaneously cushioning their divergences and tying them together when the gaps widen too far. While the underlying rhythm section serves its purpose, the spotlight remains squarely on the two leads, separated not just by their instruments but by their seemingly opposing philosophies on expression.

This performance also holds significance for its timing. Coming nearly three decades after their first collaboration in 1953 at The Haig Club, and following the pinnacle of their 1958 album “Stan Meets Chet,” the 1983 concert stands as a testament to their uneasy but enduring connection. If “Stan Meets Chet” was marked by a cohesive dialogue, this revival feels more like two artists solidifying their individuality within shared territory.

As the evening unfolded, one couldn’t ignore the historical weight of watching two jazz legends in the twilight of their careers. Their rendition of “Dear Old Stockholm” is less a seamless conversation and more a vignette of contrasts—mutual respect sliced through by artistic dissonance.

Lifted from : Stan Getz & Chet Baker meet in Stockholm (1983)

12 . Serge Gainsbourg & Screamin Jay Hawkins – Constipation Blues

Recorded amidst the intoxicated haze of a 1983 TV set, Serge Gainsbourg and Screamin’ Jay Hawkins’ “Constipation Blues” drips with chaos, self-indulgence, and theatrical absurdity.

Their collaboration, captured during a drunken session on the set of *”Sex Machine,”* defies all expectations of conventional music-making. Under the dubious guidance of a producer who generously encouraged alcohol consumption, the session spiraled into disarray. Hawkins reportedly delivered his guttural vocals sprawled on the floor, while the saxophonist, too impaired to maneuver his instrument, fought an uphill battle against both melody and sobriety.

This track aligns perfectly with Hawkins’s penchant for bizarre, boundary-pushing performances, which included flamboyant costumes and high-octane antics earning his reputation as “the world’s wildest man.” Gainsbourg’s calculated irreverence merges with Hawkins’s unrefined rawness to produce something more unsettling than enjoyable—a reflection of the disjointed spirit of this drunken experiment.

The song finally surfaced decades later, finding its home on Hawkins’s *”Spellbound”* album in 2006. Contextually, it is emblematic of Hawkins’s later years, where theatricality often superseded musical precision, creating a caricature of his once-commanding presence.

While undeniably unique, *”Constipation Blues”* feels less like a song and more like an inside joke too distorted by its own haze to land effectively. Both artists appear disconnected, their individual points of brilliance dimmed beneath the farcical weight of the session’s chaos.

Lifted from : We remember Screamin Jay Hawkins. ‘Give me a J. What’s That Spell? Screamin’ Jay’