. Sep 04 2020 (Andy Synn introduces our premiere of a new cover song by the German band Phantom Winter.) The post-punk British girl group originated a song to stand alongside such classics as “Sealed with a Kiss” and “The Boys of Summer” when they sang of loneliness, separation, and heartache in relation to the vacation period, but they did so in a way that incorporated a strong element of, well, fun. Some covers are more equal than others. Further hits from the album included "Robert De Niro's Waiting..." (UK #3) and "Rough Justice" (UK #23). This site’s history with German sludgemongers Phantom Winter goes back a number of years now. Since Bananarama first released “Cruel Summer” in June 1983, the sunny season has become substantially crueller, certainly if the raft of recent covers of the song are considered. So let’s ignore (please) the thumping Eurodisco version by Ace of Base in 1998, and head straight to the Hailey Tuck rendition of 2018. Was sampled in 15 songs see all. This began when it featured prominently in The Karate Kid movie of 1984, which opened, suitably enough, in the month of June and became the fifth highest grossing motion picture of the year. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. However, it was a far cry from wanting to make the shy boy “my boy” and “squeeze and hold him tight.” Without one “shoop shoop aaahh” to speak of, the group worked on darker and more paranoid lyrics about the “pavements burning,” the air being “heavy and dry,” and “strange voices” saying things they “can’t understand.” These centered on the idea of being isolated from a loved one in an oppressively hot city, and made for a downbeat chorus: “It’s a cruel, cruel summer / Leaving me here on my own / It’s a cruel, cruel summer / Now you’re gone.” But while the songwriting quintet matched the words to a string of minor chords, they retained the trademark Bananarama perkiness by means of a marimba hook, some funky synth bass, plenty of percussive crashes, and a good helping of Nile Rodgers-style electric guitar. Photo by Eric Cahan http://ericcahan.com/. So when the band got in touch to ask me to help them premiere their impressively ugly and abrasive take on Bananarama’s “Cruel Summer” – all in service of a good cause – I couldn’t say no! The group continued their association with producers Jolley & Swain (who had produced some tracks on their debut album, Deep Sea Skiving). Women don't sing like this anymore, with this kind of sighing regret. Main genre: Rock / Pop. It’s intense, man! You need to enable JavaScript to use SoundCloud, Cover song by one of our favorite hits of the 80's by Bananarama. And aren’t those green curtains in Amy’s studio excellent? Bananarama is the second album released by British girl group Bananarama.Released in 1984, the album peaked at no.16 on the UK album chart, also reaching the US top 40 album chart and was certified Silver by the BPI.. The rendition of the Karate Kid song, featuring theatrical pipes from lead singer Amy Lee and guitar from Troy McLawhorn, gives the once-uplifting pop bop a refurbished, eerie feeling to it. Notify me of followup comments via e-mail. Bananarama - Cruel Summer (Mint Julep Cover), _Luis M Espinosa official/Artificial I./Zyrcadian, Users who like Bananarama - Cruel Summer (Mint Julep Cover), Users who reposted Bananarama - Cruel Summer (Mint Julep Cover), Playlists containing Bananarama - Cruel Summer (Mint Julep Cover), More tracks like Bananarama - Cruel Summer (Mint Julep Cover). This is for you – we hope you like it. They joined the long line of artists banging out quarantine covers from their home in their attempt to articulate the fears and frustrations of self-isolation as a consequence of the coronavirus pandemic. The cover comes before the group’s release of their first album in nine years, The Bitter Truth, slated for release this fall, with the lead single, “Wasted On You,” dropping back in April. Yet, with the aid of legendary Joni Mitchell producer Larry Klein on her 2018 debut album Junk, she also applied her retro stylings to the likes of Paul McCartney (“Junk”), Pulp (“Underwear”), and, most transformatively, late-period Leonard Cohen (“That Don’t Make it Junk”). Furthermore, at just two minutes, there’s a tightness to the verses, no instrumental break, no needless repetition of the chorus, no slightly ropey lyric about how the heat has “got right out of hand,” and no slack.