The enduring art of the re-record

When John Lewis' The Gifting Hour campaign began airing in November last year, I got a text from my dad telling me how great the music was. It was a gorgeous, delicate and ephemeral piano cover of Bob Dylan’s Make You Feel my Love. 

The John Lewis 'tasteful piano cover' formula is well-known, even to the mainstream consumer who’s never stepped foot inside an ad agency. Something so expected ought to pass by unnoticed, but even when I knew what to expect, the magic of that composition transcended it. 

Even when I knew what to expect, the magic of that composition transcended it. 

The emotional profundity of that song resonated through the recording. It gave me a moment to think; why do re-records, when they work, work so well — and fall so flat when they don’t? 

Above: John Lewis's Christmas spot from 2024, The Gifting Hour.

There’s a quiet magic in re-recording a classic song. It’s not just a technical challenge, it’s a creative privilege. You’re working with material that already carries emotional weight, structure and beauty. The job isn’t to reinvent it, but to let it pass through you faithfully and respectfully.

A good re-record isn’t a sound-a-like, it’s a conversation with the original, one where you’re listening as much as you’re responding.

Jimmy Iovine once described learning to mix records by acting as a conduit, doing exactly what his mentors told him to do, learning through osmosis. In a way, re-recording great music offers the same kind of apprenticeship. You’re not composing from scratch, you’re standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the songwriters of the 20th century, translating their work into a new context. And for those of us who care deeply about sound, that’s sacred ground.

A good re-record isn’t a sound-a-like, it’s a conversation with the original, one where you’re listening as much as you’re responding. The goal isn’t perfection, it’s presence. You’re not just trying to capture the sonic fingerprint, but the spirit that made the original unforgettable. That means sensitivity in arrangement, nuance in tone and, above all, emotional continuity.

Above: The Co-Founder of Interscope Records, Jimmy Iovine, described learning to mix records by acting as a conduit and, says Owens, re-recording great music offers the same kind of apprenticeship.

It’s tempting, of course, to believe a great song will do the emotional heavy-lifting. That’s why licensing iconic music is so appealing — it taps into something already known, already loved. But when the master rights are out of reach, a re-record can easily become a cynical move; a cost-saving shortcut, a way to borrow emotional power without paying the full fee.

That’s not what we do at GAS. Our approach isn’t about inexpensive manipulation — it’s about creative authorship. There’s an instructive scene in Mad Men where a young copywriter says “sex sells”. Don Draper corrects her; “You. Feeling something. That’s what sells."

Accessing real emotion requires more than a stimulating sound or image.

Accessing real emotion requires more than a stimulating sound or image. Last year, we were appointed by Drummond and director Sye Allen to re-record Queen’s Somebody to Love for Dreams. We were working with sacred material. It’s arguably Queen’s magnum opus of vocal harmony — layered, complex and deeply human. The drums are powerful, the bass steady, the guitar solo speaks for itself. But the heart of the track is that unmistakable choral richness.

Above: GAS Music re-recorded Queen's famous track Somebody to Love for Dreams. 

Naturally, I was anxious. We didn’t have Freddie, Roger, Brian and John. We didn’t have those four voices. Would the emotional weight still land? We recorded with legendary producer Yoad Nevo and, early on, with just two vocalists covering all the parts, it sounded thin. Technically correct, but emotionally flat.

But Yoad reassured me; “It’s the distinct voices that will make it breathe.” And he was right. Once we had all four vocalists tracked, something clicked. The room changed. The harmonies stopped sounding like layers and started sounding like Queen. The spirit of the song rose up through the mix like it had been waiting.

We didn’t have Freddie, Roger, Brian and John. We didn’t have those four voices. Would the emotional weight still land?

That’s the magic of a re-record done right. The music — if it’s written with soul — will find form again. It doesn’t matter who performs it, the beauty endures. It resonates through whoever is able to carry it.

The reason our re-record of Somebody to Love worked is simple; we weren’t trying to imitate the master. We weren’t trying to sound 'vintage', nor were we chasing what briefs often call 'contemporary and modern'. We were just recording the song as if it were being recorded today — with care, precision and respect.

That meant world-class singers, modern recording techniques and a focus on clarity, energy and mix depth; bus compression, parallel chains, careful stereo shaping. Not gimmicks—just good engineering.