11 Best Prog Rock Covers of Non-Prog Rock Songs

Simon & Garfunkel’s “America” (originally from 1968’s Bookends) is — like much of their work — immaculately constructed and performed. From its poetic social commentary and storytelling to its lovely singing and arrangements, it epitomizes the duo’s excellence. Thus, Yes’ 1970 version (which is about three times longer) isn’t superior, but it’s a great expansion that helped introduce listeners to then-new guitarist Steve Howe.

Bassist Chris Squire’s reference to “America” from West Side Story is a nice touch, as are the ways in which Yes’ symphonic and tricky overture foreshadows major themes before frontman Jon Anderson somewhat imitates Paul Simon’s cadence. Of course, they keep adding all sorts of fresh twists — including changing time signatures, alternate phrasing, six-string jamming and instrumental sections — to increase the tempo and density of their composition. Nevertheless, the bittersweet beauty of the original is largely retained amidst all the fiery embellishments.

The title track to Spock’s Beard’s sophomore LP, Beware of Darkness intentionally takes as much from George Harrison’s gentler All Things Must Pass archetype as from Leon Russell’s feistier and more unconventional Shelter People reimagining. In the process, it partially replaces Harrison’s earthly production, moodiness and desperation with the eccentric playfulness and forcefulness that categorized the Neal Morse period of Spock’s Beard. Some people may see it as sacrilegious given that “Beware of Darkness” came from a former Beatle, but we really dig what Morse and company did.

Similar to Yes’ approach to “America,” Spock’s Beard begin with a zany instrumental jam that has more in common with their ‘90s characteristics than Harrison’s blueprint. That’s not a complaint, though, since it’s an awesome prelude that paves the way for their gruffer and fuller — but still majorly faithful — emulation. Expectedly, strange sounds, time signature changes and even keyboard and guitar solos are implemented along the way and they still manage to embody Harrison’s tenderness at certain points. Honestly, anyone open to a more adventurous and thrilling rendition should love it.

“Basket Case” was a major reason why 1994’s Dookie was such a huge record for Green Day and it’s probably as beloved by ‘90s kids as “America” and “Beware of Darkness” are by their parents. You could also argue that its straightforward pop-punk attitude is essential to its power. Regardless, you must admire how Cheeto’s Magazine — one of the weirdest prog rock bands ever — modified it to open 2017’s Tasty Old Snacks.

Like the last two entries, theirs is significantly prolonged compared to Green Day’s outline, with a manic orchestral rock preface cleverly building excitement that’s quickly offset by the melancholic singing and piano (not guitar) chords of Esteban Navarro. From there, the rest of the group jumps in to mix Green Day’s inviting rebelliousness with Umphrey’s McGee-esque genre-splicing complicatedness and textural variety. Their blissful harmonies are a treat, too, and while purists may be totally bewildered by Cheeto’s Magazine’s tactics, we have to think that even Green Day would be in awe of their audacious abilities and creativity.

“Heart Full of Soul” was among the first things the Yardbirds did after Jeff Beck took over for Eric Clapton in 1965 and it’s considered not only one of their best tracks but also a crucial example of raga rock. Unsurprisingly, Rush were heavily influenced by them, which is why they tapped into the tune — as well as “Shapes of Things” — on their 2004 covers EP, Feedback.

In 2004, both Geddy Lee and Alex Lifeson unabashedly praised their heavier and trippier (but still majorly authentic) style. On the contrary, Lifeson’s gruffer electric guitar tone and more pronounced acoustic strums – alongside Lee’s lush stacked vocals during the chorus – infuse “Heart Full of Soul” with new psychedelic depth. At the same time, it maintains the Yardbirds’ easygoing tempo and pleasant hooks, so it satisfies their goal of creating something they “could call [their] own, . . . without wrecking the song.”

Remember when we said (three entries ago) that the Beatles’ catalog is widely seen as untouchable? “Eleanor Rigby” (from 1966’s Revolver) is a chief example of why since everything about it — the gorgeous harmonies, the dynamic string arrangement, McCartney’s forlorn singing — is virtually perfect. Well, Kansas gave themselves the unenviable task of recreating it on 1998’s Always Never the Same and it’s really, really good!

Because it was recorded with the London Symphony Orchestra, it’s even longer, mightier and more theatrical than the original. (There’s more vocal variety, too, given that there are three singers.) Consequently, it lacks the awe-inspiring splendor and starkness of its forebearer, but compensates with its celebratory vibe that demonstrates Kansas’ trademark sound and the generations-spanning magic of “Eleanor Rigby.”

Blending new wave and neo-psychedelia, 1988’s “Under the Milky Way” is probably The Church’s signature song. Its jangly despair, unmistakable EBow/Synclavier-modulated guitar solo, frisky percussion and matter-of-fact longing are forever embedded in the hearts and minds of music lovers from that era (or anyone who loves Donnie Darko).  That’s why it was so bold yet fitting for Coheed and Cambria mastermind Claudio Sanchez to take a stab at it on 2024’s Claudio Covers EP (which is credited to the band).

Interestingly, though, it conjures Coheed and Cambria’s mechanical sorrow and epic orchestration as much as it does the folktronica energy and beats of Sanchez’s Prize Fighter Inferno project. Its modern production and otherworldly dissonance give it a colder, eerier and less seductive/romantic essence (planted firmly outside of the 1980s), but it plays to Sanchez’s strengths in remarkable ways.

The Hollies were one of the greatest 1960s “British Invasion” groups, and like The Yardbirds’ “Heart Full of Soul,” they created a folk/raga/pop-rock classic with 1966’s overwhelmingly catchy “Bus Stop." You won’t be too shocked to learn, then, that Arjen Lucassen (Star One, Ayreon) took a comparable approach as Rush to giving “Bus Stop” a groovier and crunchier new coating on his 1996 homage to the folks who inspired him: Strange Hobby.

It's an exact replica in terms of its structure (well, aside from the fiercer guitar solo about two-thirds of the way in). Although Hollies frontman Allan Clarke undoubtedly sings it better, Lucassen’s voice definitely fits his chaotically cosmic interpretation. Plus, he nails reconstructing Tony Hicks and Graham Nash’s accompaniments, and there’s an overt passion for the material that makes his version markedly idiosyncratic but equally gripping.

Considering that Todd Rundgren was behind Utopia, he could’ve done his own prog rock cover of Hermit of Mink Hollow’s biggest power pop hit: “Can We Still Be Friends.” He didn’t, though, which meant there was a void left to be filled by the similarly named Unitopia on Covered Mirror Vol. 1 - Smooth as Silk 34 years later. It’s actually one of the only reimaginings of a non-prog track on the LP, and it’s a testament to their limitless resourcefulness and appeal.

Right away, Unitopia extend the song with their characteristically moving and vibrant World music/classical foundations (including woodwinds and high-pitched bells or chimes). Once that introduction is done, Mark Trueack’s deeper voice is complemented by slower pacing and a sparser and tenser arrangement. Consequently, Unitopia’s rendition is more dejected and less danceable than Rundgren’s, and the sporadic vocal and instrumental counterpoints add gorgeous prog complexity to enhance (rather than overshadow) the emotional core.

If you asked 100 David Bowie fans to name the standout song from 1972's The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, most of them would probably name "Suffragette City." An irresistible slice of proto-punk/glam rock, it might seem like the antithesis of what neo-prog legends IQ would tackle. As they proved on 2008’s Frequency Live compilation, however, they could do wonderful things with it.

It kicks off just as you’d expect before throwing on lively keys, rustic acoustic guitar strums and festive drumming. Thus, it immediately replaces the Ziggy cut’s biting edge with a laidback feel, and Peter Nicholls’ silkier tone only bolsters that distinction. Eventually, dreamier segues, intricate jamming and bonus banter from Nicholls continue to make IQ’s trek through “Suffragette City” gratifyingly novel.

Björk might be Iceland’s most fascinatingly odd, daring and eclectic solo artists. Her brilliant unconventionality didn’t start there, though, since her own career began after the disbandment of lovably bizarre alt-rock/dream-pop ensemble The Sugarcubes. Their breakthrough tune, “Birthday” (from 1988’s Life’s Too Good), embodied their charming weirdness, so it’s only logical that peculiar prog rockers The Mars Volta honored it as a bonus track on 2008’s The Bedlam in Goliath.

In a nutshell, The Mars Volta paint over Bjork’s distinguished phrasing and the Sugarcubes’ delightfully unusual textures and shuffling rhythms with their trademark Latin flair and experimental sounds. Unsurprisingly, Cedric Bixler-Zavala matches Bjork’s high-pitched hooks and wails (although he’s somewhat buried within the surrounding strangeness), and the anticipated noisy outro further pinpoints how much The Mars Volta ensure that “Birthday” fits in with the rest of The Bedlam in Goliath.

You can’t hope to succeed by merely mirroring the signature nasally combativeness and antagonistic guitar chords of early Bob Dylan folk rock protest staples such as 1963’s “Masters of War.” German prog rockers RPWL knew that going into 2008’s The RPWL Experience, so they wisely chose to transform it into something that wholly fits their recognizable aesthetic.

Their brooding synths, gentler singing, leisurely pace, shimmering guitarwork and faint sounds of war automatically make their adaption lusciously cinematic.  It comes across like a mournful reflection rather than a blunt tell-off, and predictably, it evolves into a robust and multilayered rocker whose piercing guitar solo punctuates its anguish. If you’ve ever wondered what “Masters of War” would sound like if sung by David Gilmour on Pink Floyd’s The Wall or The Division Bell, this is pretty much it (and it's superb).