Pitchfork

When a non-mainstream rock outfit chooses to cover a ubiquitous chart hit, the opportunity for mockery is often just plain overpowering: suddenly, all the latent indie elitism buried deep inside their collective bones bubbles up, springing each member directly into the throes of a hearty group snicker. Some bands manage to eschew the temptation-- The Flaming Lips' cover of Kylie Minogue's "Can't Get You Out of My Head" was wound down and slathered generously with organ, a re-arrangement that only emphasized the track's freaked-out, sighing hopelessness (and Wayne Coyne's willingness to acknowledge its dynamic). But while the Lips nobly avoided condescension in favor of ingenuity, their approach is far from standardized: the bit-lip, determinably ironic cover remains an alarmingly popular vehicle for loads of artless wanking.

On the five-track A Beautiful EP, Brooklyn country-folkers Clem Snide dig their bloody claws into Christina Aguilera's empowerment-pushing "Beautiful", stripping down the original's histrionic instrumentation and replacing it with spare electric guitar riffing and a sped-up backbeat. But while their intentions may have been glowing, the results are still stupidly underwhelming. For Aguilera, "Beautiful" was primarily a platform for strutting her pipes, with a peripheral, stop-making-fun-of-my-outfits plea for magnanimous self-acceptance. Snide vocalist Eef Barzelay, who boasts, thankfully, neither Aguilera's sprawling vocal range nor her familiarity with the burn of the public's knife, spends the entire three minutes sounding like he's stifling a big, raucous giggle-- which might be okay if the song didn't continually reveal itself as awkwardly one-dimensional and (still!) unbearably maudlin.

The album version of Soft Spot's lead single, the gushy "Al Green", hits next, and the difference in tone is palpable from the start. Barzelay proudly owns his grinning prose, and each lyric drips peaceably into place, as soft and lush as the story itself ("Summer will come/ With Al Green and sweetened iced tea/ Summer will come/ And be all green with the sweetness of thee"), languid guitar and chiming keys rolling into one lazy, languorous flow.

"Mike Kalinsky", the only previously unreleased original included here, is more prototypically Snide, flaunting their now-patented blend of purposefully clever vocal-folk (see Mountain Goats) and careful alt-country strumming. The studio difference is noticeable (gone is the golden gloss of the Soft Spot sessions), and "Mike Kalinsky" sees Barzelay returning to his snarkier roots, sidestepping the super-sweet lamentations of Soft Spot in favor of rambling barbs ("He had difficulty breathing so he couldn't participate in sports/ And all the jocks said he was gay.../ Mike Kalinsky spent high school alone in his bedroom listening to Joy Division and The Misfits/ And going nowhere"). When it comes time for Mike Kalinsky himself to seize control of the story, the song tumbles from placid acoustic strums into 30 seconds of storming garage bangs, a funny-the-first-time explosion of noise designed to stubbornly define the narrative shift.

The final two tracks on A Beautiful EP were recorded live on WFUV; the first, a striking cover of The Velvet Underground's "I'll Be Your Mirror", sits in wild contrast to the band's take on Aguilera-- the crinkled-nose sneer is gone, replaced by loads of sincere, held-breath reverence and persuasive conviction. Unlike "Beautiful", "I'll Be Your Mirror" earns aping: Clem Snide expertly stretch the song out to a bit over three minutes (skillfully harmonizing where Nico and Reed just doubled-up), threading in some melancholic cello lines and acoustic finger-flourishes, Barzelay's wobbly croak providing a warm alternative to Nico's brisk, disembodied warble. The disc closes out with "Nick Drake Tape", plucked from their sparse 1998 debut You Were a Diamond, and rendered faithfully on-air; the song is a perfectly breathy finish to an EP that's, ultimately, just as light.