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Everwood: Original Television Soundtrack | 
 enlarge | Artists: Tv Original Soundtrack, Various Artists
Label: Nettwerk Records
Category: Music
List Price: $15.98
Buy New: $9.13
You Save: $6.85 (43%)
New (14) Used (9) Collectible (1) from $5.98
Rating:  8 reviews
Sales Rank: 19862
Format: Soundtrack
Media: Audio CD
Discs: 1
Shipping Weight (lbs): 0.2
Dimensions (in): 5.6 x 5 x 0.5
MPN: 30388
UPC: 067003038829
EAN: 0067003038829
ASIN: B00033BC24
Release Date: October 19, 2004
Availability: Usually ships in 1-2 business days
Shipping: Expedited shipping available
Shipping: International shipping available
Condition: Brand new Item. CD, DVD, Book, VHS more than 400 000 titles to choose from. ALL days Low Price !
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| Tracks:
| • | Lonely People - Jars of Clay (popularized by America) | | • | Trouble - Kristin Hersh (popularized by Cat Stevens) | | • | These Days - Griffin House (popularized by Jackson Browne) | | • | Only Living Boy in New York - David Mead (popularized by Simon & Garfunkel) | | • | Summer Breeze - Jason Mraz (popularized by Seals & Crofts) | | • | Father and Son - Leigh Nash (popularized by Cat Stevens) | | • | The Harder They Come - Guster (popularized by Jimmy Cliff) | | • | Don't Be Shy - Travis (popularized by Cat Stevens) | | • | Operator (That's Not The Way It Feels) - Toby Lightman (popularized by Jim Croce) | | • | The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face - Stereophonics (popularized by Roberta Flack) | | • | Jump Little Children - Cathedrals | | • | Main Title Theme for Everwood - Blake Neely | | • | Love Song - Treat Williams (Bonus Track) |
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| Customer Reviews:
Beautiful Theme February 6, 2007
Mary S. Schaeffer (PA,USA)
1 out of 2 found this review helpful
I bought this CD mainly because I love the Everwood theme and wanted to have it always. There are some other fine selections and a few that are just fair. I enjoyed the Treat Williams song,also.
 If you haven't yet discovered the voice of Treat Williams, you must get this CD August 9, 2006
FIU Graduate Student
1 out of 1 found this review helpful
This soundtrack to the absolutely unforgettable, wonderful series "Everwood" is a must-have for any fan of the series, any fan of goood-old heart-felt songs that tell a story, and for anyone who has yet to hear the beautiful singing talent of Treat Williams. If you have already heard Treat Williams sing, then I'm sure you already know that this CD would be a priceless addition to your music collection. If you want an ever-so-sweet and romantic serenade, then believe me you will find it in "Love Song" performed by Treat Williams.
Also noteworthy are the songs "Father and Son" which is very touching, especially if you know the story of "Everwood", and the song "Cathedrals" which will tug at your heartstrings with its enchanting rhythm and lyrics. For all "Everwood" fans out there, you will definitely find yourself fondly reminiscing as you listen to the theme of the show. Listening to that lovely song will leave you missing "Everwood" more than you know, but believe you will enjoy the trip down memory lane.
Fans of classic songs from the 60s and 70s will also enjoy the remakes of such classics as "Operator" and "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face".
Great music January 16, 2006
Robert A. Brown
2 out of 10 found this review helpful
My wife really likes this album.
What a great CD December 26, 2005
M. MCQUAIDE (La Puente, California United States)
4 out of 5 found this review helpful
I bought this CD basically for the Everwood theme which I just love. I play the opening credits of Everwood everytime just to hear it! The rest of the CD is a pleasant surprise...it is great!
"...just to tell 'em I'm fine...." August 10, 2005
Brandon Henslee (Texas!)
11 out of 18 found this review helpful
Folks, if you only buy one album for the rest of this year... well, how can you live like that?! Still, if one it is, do make sure it's the original television soundtrack for the WB's series "Everwood." Now, now, wait! Wait! I know what you're all thinking. You're thinking, "Everwood?!" You're thinking, "The WB?!" But let me tell you something that's true: as wholly, as savagely, as I believe that Carly Simon is the coolest woman alive (with all apologies to the eternally-fascinating Susan Powter and Anne Heche), and that the white chocolate Kit Kat is the best new candy bar to stroll down the pike in ages, and that Aquafresh will always best Crest in every way that matters, that's how profoundly I believe that your life will be markedly emptier --- and your sense of soul-shaking emptiness blatantly devastating --- if you let this sensational collection slip through your fingers.
It's a covers album, and I know we're all slogging through a mind-numbing avalanche of those right now, but don't let any of that scare you off. The deceptively simple concept here is contemporary artists remaking '70s classics, and while a few of them fall a bit short of the mark, trust that this album works far better than it ever deserved to. Jars of Clay (look no further than their terrific version of "Little Drummer Boy" to understand that they know a thing or two from reinventing a classic) takes on America's "Lonely People." Stereophonics (another band who knows its way around an intriguing cover, having last year turned Rod Stewart's gently earthy ode "Handbags and Gladrags" into a delirious, epic pop opera) hands in a striking version of Roberta Flack's "First Time I Ever Saw Your Face." The amazing David Mead (a singer-songwriter who criminally never got his due for his magnificent 2000 debut album The Luxury of Time and its trippy twin triumphs "World of a King" and "Robert Bradley's Postcard") acquits himself rather nicely on Simon and Garfunkel's "The Only Living Boy in New York" --- don't misunderstand, he doesn't top the original (which, incidentally, can be found on this fall's other must-own soundtrack, the set for Garden State) and doesn't even approach Everything But the Girl's far-superior version (but hey, it's a tough song, and I'm a forgiving chap). Even that uber-annoying horsefly Jason Mraz delivers a surprisingly serviceable cover of Seals and Crofts' AC-radio staple "Summer Breeze."
But kids, the true heartstopper here, the true reason to rush out posthaste and purchase this album, is track number nine, a shattering, intensely humane cover of what is easily one of the twenty-five best songs ever, Jim Croce's "Operator (That's Not the Way It Feels)", performed here with quiet confidence and wrenching sincerity by a new force on the scene, the dynamic Toby Lightman. (For you uninitiated: she released her debut album, Little Things, last spring; she's been all over VH1 of late with another cover, this one of Mary J. Blige's breakthrough "Real Love"; she's been unfairly derided by critics as a pale Sheryl Crow knockoff; and mark my word, she's about to ride the serene strength of track number nine from the "Everwood" original television soundtrack straight to the superstardom stratosphere.)
Now, you all know just as well as I do how thankless a task taking on a musical classic can be. Get it wrong (and don't the odds always favor getting it wrong?) and, because of all those unavoidable preconceived notions that the audience can't help but bring with it, you fail on a grander, more unforgiving scale. (Witness if you will Tim McGraw's massive misfire last year with Elton John's "Tiny Dancer" --- seriously, who in the name of Jesus convinced him that this was a good idea?! --- or the terrific Linda Eder, whose acrobatic eleven-octave voice was totally, obviously, unconscionably wrong for Dusty Springfield's lust-drenched "Son of a Preacher Man" two years ago. And of course, there's the undisputed queen of all witless, out-to-lunch failures: Nicki French's untenable assault on Bonnie Tyler's 1983 classic "Total Eclipse of the Heart." Call it hokey, call it unabashed, call it melodramatic, but if there's one thing that song didn't need, ever, it was some tramp yelling "ohhhhh-uh-ohhhhhhhhhhhhh-uhh-oh-oh-oh" over a ridiculous four-on-the-floor beat.)
But get it right, and you land on your feet brandishing spun gold, baby.
I'm here to tell you right now that Ms. Lightman gets it thrillingly right, six ways from go, with a version of this song that brings something completely different to it --- and not just because it's a woman singing these words instead of a man --- without once veering from the emotional truth at the core of Croce's narrative. Backing it with a piano (Croce uses a guitar in the original) and shifting the tempo down a daring half-step, she finds her own way into the story --- no, scratch that, she crawls inside the song as if she's just learned that she was placed on this planet solely to record this piece of music and that the time has at long last arrived. It's a gravity-defying four-minute mental orgasm masquerading as an unassuming album track. Be incredulous now, it's fine, but give this thing one listen and I know you'll agree: the moment she hits the climax of the chorus the second time around --- "...so I can call / just to tell 'em I'm fine / and to show / I've overcome the blow..." (and don't tell me you can't sing it from memory!) --- is a straight-outta-da-park grand slam, a pantheon-ready master class in emotional musical interpretation. She imbues that single simple word fine with a power that is thrilling, and transcendent, and electrifying, and angry, and dense with ironic meaning, with triple entendre. It's truly one for the ages, guys, an effort that instantly takes its rightful place among the great covers of our time. (My list, to name but a few, includes my darling Tori Amos' three-a.m.-and-hurting take on Joni Mitchell's "A Case of You"; or my darling Tori Amos, who took on the Boomtown Rats' "I Don't Like Mondays" and, without changing a syllable of the text, told a completely different story with the song; or Rod Stewart, who tore into Tom Waits' "Downtown Train" (and kick-started a faltering career) with all the passion-fueled ferocity of a pit bull who has just stumbled upon the most succulent pork chop; or, for purely personal reasons that involve an earth-shattering first kiss and the realization that smashing noses together only allows for more intense eye contact (and hence, is a forgivable offense), Phil Collins' unabashedly sentimental version of the Mindbenders' "Groovy Kind of Love"; or the scary-brave Mandy Moore, who leapt atop Joan Armatrading's rollicking, hysterical "Drop the Pilot" (almost certainly the coolest song ever written about trying to convince someone to become a lesbian) last year and, by the crust of the cuticles of her perfectly-manicured fingernails, managed to hang on for dear life.)
It's a superlative effort on an album that's full to overflowing of same. It's the "Everwood" original television soundtrack. Go to any record store necessary, make yourself the nuisance of all time, hound the clerks if you can't find it, demand to speak to the manager, threaten to take hostages, demand to be heard. See, when we get heard about things like this --- about music that's real, and good --- we let the decision-makers know that we'll support more things like this in the future, and in so doing, we'll keep the witless tramps and poseurs --- think Britney, think, um, er, Shakira, think that vapid Jessica Simpson --- at bay for just a bit longer.
And that's a *good* thing.
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