“A cock up”: The album Rod Stewart regretted making
Do you know that feeling when your parents are about to bring up an embarrassing memory about you, or even worse, make an inappropriate joke? You’re body tightens up with the anticipation of knowing what terror is to come. Well, watching Rod Stewart make media appearances in 2025 feels somewhat similar to that.
It feels as though he constantly needs to be reminded that times have moved on and whatever crude joke is waiting at the tip of his tongue needs to be thought through. But I guess that’s because a large part of his allure in the 1970s was built on his suggestiveness. His songs were steeped in sexuality, and he presented himself as the rebellious boy next door, enough to allow himself to play outside the lines and mostly get away with it.
And so, love him or hate him, that was what made his songs inherently his. While ‘Da Ya Think I’m Sexy?’ is undoubtedly toe-curling, it somehow works on a strange level because it’s Rod Stewart leaning into his own borderline cringeworthy authenticity. It’s the same with ‘Maggie May’, albeit a more endearing and nuanced tale steeped in the sort of lustful worlds we’ve come to expect from Stewart.
Subsequent covers of his songs have been shoddy for that exact reason. They’re missing the intangible and enigmatic quality that endears his own songs to his personality. But that thought process goes the other way also. There’s a delicate nuance to say Stevie Wonder’s ‘My Cherie Amour’ that simply doesn’t belong in the raspy rebellious realms of Stewart.
Admittedly, Stewart’s vocal style was informed by America’s burgeoning scenes of soul and rhythm and blues. There was a painful sweetness to his voice, particularly in his early work, that ran parallel to the styles of America’s deep South in particular. But I don’t think that quite warranted the pursuit of his 2009 project, Soulbook. A collection of soul covers ranging from Stevie Wonder’s classic to ‘Tracks Of My Tears’ by Smokey Robinson. It was a record smeared in simple pastiche, as opposed to any adaptive nuance and combined with the pensive album cover, felt like the work of a wedding singer.
A harsh assessment, maybe, but one Stewart himself shares. He said, “It was a cock-up”.
The plain analysis was followed up by some reasoning, as he explained that “simply because you can’t beat the originals. You’ll never beat the originals, because they’re still on the airwaves.”
Despite his brazen confidence, which many critics and fans would love to label arrogance, Stewart’s scathing assessment of his own project most likely comes from a deep appreciation for the genre. The building blocks of soul musicianship is something he used to develop his own artistry. As a purely vocal musician whose role in solo and group projects was to bring character and life to songs, Stewart leaned upon the forefathers of the genre, whose power and emotion drove songs into new realms.
Unfortunately, in 2009, he learnt the best way to thank them is to continue recording his original ideas, for that is the best form of artistic flattery.
