I’ve got a weird little batch of songs this week. I’ll keep the suspense going for at least a paragraph or two.

They seem unrelated, but they all popped into my head while I was lying back, thinking about what to cover this week. One’s a cover, one features a different frontman than it originally had, and one is pure 80s goodness.

What ties them together? Nothing obvious. But they each carry this strange mix of confidence and doubt — songs where the mask slips a little.

Let’s jump into the songs. As always, thanks to @ablaze for making this series. Lots of people participate in it! Follow the tags to find a ton of good music recommendations.

Dennis Wilson — You’ve Got To Hide Your Love Away

Dennis Wilson never sang like a trained musician — he sang like a man trying to keep from breaking apart. That’s what makes this live Beatles cover land so hard.

“You’ve Got To Hide Your Love Away” was always one of Lennon’s more open-hearted ballads, and Dennis leans into the rawness. He mumbles, he aches, he cracks. This isn’t the careful polish of Pet Sounds or the Beach Boys’ studio perfection: it’s a guy, a mic, and a song that fits him a little too well.

It’s almost like he’s talking to us, not performing. And that makes it feel personal.

Some trivia: John Lennon was the first of the Beatles to die, and Dennis Wilson the first of the Beach Boys to die. Both of them were taken far too early, and each at roughly the same age.

Genesis — I Know What I Like (In Your Wardrobe) (Live, 1976)

This is where things get interesting. If there’s a connection to the Dennis Wilson cover above, maybe it’s that both were shaped by the more psychedelic side of the Beatles. And maybe that’s the thread my brain followed to get here.

Originally released in 1973 with Peter Gabriel on vocals, “I Know What I Like” was Genesis’s first UK chart single. But the version I’m sharing comes from a 1976 live show; Gabriel’s gone, and Phil Collins has stepped up as frontman.

The lineup: Collins on vocals and drums, Mike Rutherford on guitar/bass, Tony Banks on keys, Steve Hackett on guitar, and Bill Bruford guesting on drums.

What’s remarkable is how well it works without Gabriel’s theatrics. Collins doesn’t imitate: he just owns it. The quirky story of the lawnmower man still shines through, but the energy shifts. Less art-school weird, more sly confidence.

The instrumental break is tight, the transitions unexpected, and Bruford adds just the right edge with his drumming. It’s still theatrical prog rock, but with a little less greasepaint and a little more groove.

The Police — Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic

This is so 80s that it shows up in The Wedding Singer. 80s radio shimmer. When I was a kid, I thought it was kind of sappy. But I’ve come around. This is an anxious song in disguise.

Sure, the piano bounces, and the hook sticks in your head for days. But listen closely and you’ll hear a man paralyzed by love. Sting sings about calling her up, planning to tell her how he feels — and then hanging up before she answers. Again and again.

It’s that inability to act, to do anything, that gives the song its emotional weight. He’s not heartbroken. He’s just… lost in it.

Maybe that’s the hidden thread tying these three tracks together: a kind of emotional confusion.

Dennis Wilson can’t quite hold it together.
Phil Collins is stepping into someone else’s shoes, unsure but committed.
And Sting’s frozen, overwhelmed by his own fantasy.

All three songs shimmer with something half-seen.

Thoughts?