"PANIC" THE SMITHS (1986)

For the month of November, I’ll be selecting songs in conjunction with the music Twitter challenge: #WelcomeToTheOccupation.

The paradox of Marr’s upbeat guitar compositions and Morrissey’s lyrics is the magic of The Smiths. Nothings against Rourke & Joyce, those two certainly contributed greatly to The Smiths’ success. But it’s the Marr-Morrissey paradox that makes The Smiths unlike any other band on the planet. It’s the tension that you can’t put out of your mind. It occurs on nearly every Smiths track – and reaches boiling point on “Panic”.

Forget the social ills. Forget the social alienation. “Panic” is a revolt against bad music. Inspired by a moment when the band saw the news of Chernobyl followed by Wham!’s “I’m Your Man”, something about the music just didn’t sit right. “Panic” seems like an overstatement to the casual music fan. But to those who put more weight into what’s being played, “Panic” was fully justified and relevant. It is for me.

“Burn down the disco. Hang the blessed DJ
Because the music that they constantly play, It says nothing to me about my life.”

"MAYOR OF SIMPLETON" XTC (1989)

For the month of November, I’ll be selecting songs in conjunction with the music Twitter challenge: #WelcomeToTheOccupation.

During my high school years, my friend’s older sister introduced me to WDRE/WLIR. “They play cool music.” The introduction went something like that. That radio station literally changed the trajectory of my musical preferences. I was forever stuck in classic rock. And when I say forever, I’m referring to 8th-10th grades. WDRE was the city’s local alt / college rock station, which made it a treasure trove especially during the eighties. XTC is a band that I wouldn’t have discovered if it weren’t for that station. Songs like “Earn Enough For Us”, “Making Plans For Nigel”, “Dear God” and “Mayor of Simpleton” got regular airplay on it.

XTC was always big on clever lyrics and inventive, yet catchy melodies. The brainchild of Andy Partridge, “Mayor of Simpleton” has both. The song’s lyrics took an interesting approach, pairing shortcomings of being simple-minded with knowing perhaps the one thing that really matters. The rather abrupt guitar chord intro, Beatlesque chorus and soaring bridge deliver all the charm you can handle.

“And I can't unravel riddles, problems and puns. How the home computer has me on the run And I may be the Mayor of Simpleton. But I know one thing And that's I love you.”

"TALK SHOW HOST" RADIOHEAD (1996)

For the month of November, I’ll be selecting songs in conjunction with the music Twitter challenge: #WelcomeToTheOccupation.

The story of Romeo + Juliet is a complex one, filled with every human emotion — from pure ecstasy to torment. The soundtrack, as good as it was, was filled with tracks that erred on the happier spectrum, and gave us some great ones from Des’ree, Garbage and, of course, The Cardigans. But “Talk Show Host” steered the backend of human emotion, and did it the Radiohead way. It also has the distinction of being the b-side to the Radiohead anthem, “Street Spirit”.

For casual fans, “Talk Show Host” is a bit of a forgotten track. But for Radiohead fans, it’s considered one of the more memorable songs in their catalog. Playing second fiddle to “Street Spirit”, “Talk Show Host” demonstrated Radiohead’s ability to create more than music. They created a mood. Everything is unexpected here: the vocal delivery, the drumming, the bass line, the arresting sparseness of Jonny’s guitar. “Talk Show Host” felt more like a film score than a single, which made it a perfect addition for the Romeo + Juliet soundtrack, bringing out emotions no other song on the album cared to explore.

“I want to be someone else or I'll explode.”

"NEW YORK CITY COPS" THE STROKES (2001)

For the month of November, I’ll be selecting songs in conjunction with the music Twitter challenge: #WelcomeToTheOccupation.

Timing is everything, isn’t it? When 9/11 happened, everyone remembers everything changing. But if you’re a New Yorker, you can amplify that sense ten-fold. For months on end, New Yorkers were different. Kinder. More human. We were in it together. Anyone who lived in NYC at the time can attest to this. It’s why an up-and-coming band scouring Lower Eastside bars and venues decided to remove “New York City Cops” from their groundbreaking debut album U.S. release. It was just the right thing to do.

“New York City Cops” doesn’t put officers in the best light to say the least. In the chorus, Casablancas espouses, “New York City cops, but they ain’t too smart”. It’s a great song, but it was just bad timing because the cops, firefighters and first-responders were mega heroes in our eyes at the time. The song has taken on a life of its own as part of the double a-side single “Hard To Explain / New York City Cops”. Decades later, it’s hands down one of the great, early Strokes anthems that seems almost better for not being on the debut album.

“I got to come clean but the authorities they've seen Darling, I'm somewhere in between.”

"EVERYTHING COUNTS" DEPECHE MODE (1983)

For the month of November, I’ll be selecting songs in conjunction with the music Twitter challenge: #WelcomeToTheOccupation.

It wasn’t until 1986’s Black Celebration that Depeche Mode truly cemented their dark, ominous brand of synth pop. It’s the era that I gravitate toward the most – and it’s the start of the band’s imperial phase. The rest of the catalog preceding it was a little spotty in my opinion. But that doesn’t take away the fact that there were some real gems in the early days, including the standout single from Construction Time Again: “Everything Counts”. Aside from “Just Can’t Get Enough”, “Everything Counts” is really the only song that still remains on the band’s setlists. That’s a full 40 years after it was released as a single.

As one of the standouts on the album, “Everything Counts” showcased the iconic persona of Depeche Mode: hook-laden, danceable, infectious, and, often at times, dark. Written by Martin Gore, the song went on the offensive, calling out corporate greed with a somewhat satircal approach. The bass synth part is utterly sinister, lurking with precision from beginning to end. Wilder’s synth hook – sometimes played on a xylophone – sounds like a music toy possessed by an evil spirit, which is flanked by quirky instruments that go beyond DM’s typical keyboard decks, including a melodica. Then there’s Gahan. With his signature bass vocals, Gahan is the narrator and antithesis of Gordon Gekko.

“The handshake seals the contract. From the contract, there’s no turning back.”

"THE MESSENGER" JOHNNY MARR (2013)

For the month of November, I’ll be selecting songs in conjunction with the music Twitter challenge: #WelcomeToTheOccupation.

While Morrissey has carved out a prolific solo career and catalog, Marr initially went the route of guitarist for hire following The Smiths’ demise, augmenting bands like The The, Modest Mouse and The Pretenders. But in 2013, everything changed. And it started with his first solo venture, “The Messenger”. I wanted more of The Smiths, but I ended up hearing something far closer to Interpol. And I’m not complaining.

Marr’s jangle pop obsession hits a more angular stride on “The Messenger” and other songs on the album. There’s an interesting evolution of guitar styling here, with a sound that feels like a rebirth of early Interpol and Daniel Kessler’s grating, hypnotic guitar playing. While the lyrics are far from Morrissey-level, the unexpectedness of Marr’s guitar sound is what made this track all the more delightful.

“My time's for taking if you want.”

"THE HEADMASTER RITUAL" THE SMITHS (1985)

For the month of November, I’ll be selecting songs in conjunction with the music Twitter challenge: #WelcomeToTheOccupation.

Throughout the entire Smiths catalog runs a consistent tension between the upbeat, jangly guitar riffs of Johnny Marr and the bleak, dismal musings of Morrissey. Perhaps one of the most unusual pairings in rock history – and the paradox has not only served The Smiths well, it has helped them to become one of the most important bands of the eighties. “The Headmaster Ritual” is a microcosm of this beautiful tension.

The beginning of the song reminds me of how The Cure opens many of their songs. Letting the instruments do the introductions. Extremely uncharacteristic for the band, Morrissey doesn’t start singing until the :50 mark, allowing Marr’s Rickenbacker to set the tone. Like on many Smiths songs, the guitar riffs lift you up. When Morrissey finally enters the picture, he drags us down with an awful commentary on school life in Manchester. It’s this up-and-down tension that makes “The Headmaster Ritual” such a gem of a track.

“Belligerent ghouls Run Manchester schools. Spineless swines. Cemented minds.”

"IN BLOOM" IAN MCCULLOCH (1989)

For October, the Mental Jukebox is dialing it way back to the eighties and going deep. Deep cuts have always been an important element of music listening to me because they’re often the songs that resonate with me most. Deep cuts are usually the ones that the true fans appreciate most. I like my singles and hits, but I love my deep cuts.

Candleland is a standout album from a standout year in music. 1989 brought on many great debut albums, banner releases and solo efforts. Candleland was a much more interesting listen to me in its entirety as opposed to the individual singles that found their way on modern rock radio such as “Faith and Healing” and “Proud to Fall”. In my opinion, “In Bloom” is a better song than the aforementioned.

“In Bloom” draws striking similarities to the iconic Echo & The Bunnymen track, “The Killing Moon”. With its epic structure and other worldly accents, it’s an ambitious rock song built to make an impression. The supplementary guitar riffs in the background are fantastic, standing in stark contrast to the muscular guitar hook in the foreground. And the lyrics, they speak for themselves. Poetic and simple. McCulloch always had a way with words.

“Rice fields, Feet soaking. Minefields, Here's hoping.”

"AIR OF DECEMBER" EDIE BRICKELL & NEW BOHEMIANS (1988)

For October, the Mental Jukebox is dialing it way back to the eighties and going deep. Deep cuts have always been an important element of music listening to me because they’re often the songs that resonate with me most. Deep cuts are usually the ones that the true fans appreciate most. I like my singles and hits, but I love my deep cuts.

Shooting Rubberbands At The Stars is another example of an album that started with an unflinching fascination with a single song (“What I Am”) and grew to a fondness for the entire record. Words that come to mind when I think of it: earnest, whimsical, innocent. Given these descriptions, there really wasn’t much out there with a similar demeanor. Songs like “Air Of December” did more to achieve this than even the hit single “What I Am”.

On “Air Of December”, Edie seems sultry and playful in her delivery as she conveys the effect of the protagonist on her. And the bass line feeds off it, flirting with the lower octaves. It’s the change-up in the album’s first half, opting for a slow, prodding tempo and melody that lingers like the December air. It’s heard best not in isolation, but right after the funky “What I Am” and jangly “Little Miss S.” Just like a true deep cut.

“The breeze moved the curtains And lifted my perfume into the air.”

"NO WORDS NO MORE" LOVE AND ROCKETS (1989)

For October, the Mental Jukebox is dialing it way back to the eighties and going deep. Deep cuts have always been an important element of music listening to me because they’re often the songs that resonate with me most. Deep cuts are usually the ones that the true fans appreciate most. I like my singles and hits, but I love my deep cuts.

The percussion-cracking “So Alive” descended on just about every radio station in New York City in 1989. I couldn’t get enough of it. So I decided to buy the self-titled album. As fans know, the rest of the album is very different from “So Alive”. Needless to say, it took a while for the record to grow on me. But once it did, I was sold. The album wavers back and forth between a world of motorcycles and a desolate wasteland. Not my cup of tea. But if you’re in the mood, it works wonders with deep cuts like “No Words No More”.

In his hush demeanor, Ash sings of a lazy devil, pools under a blue sky, and people down the street from you and I. For the life of me, I can’t figure out what the song means. But maybe that’s the whole point. There’s no one particular meaning. The song is whatever you make of it. It’s whatever you want it to be. A backdrop for your mind to wander and make something of nothing. And maybe those are the best songs because they invite us to call the shots.

“Even the laziest devil Sits on your youth and you cry. He watches your mistakes. Until the day you die.”

"SWAN SWAN H" R.E.M. (1986)

For October, the Mental Jukebox is dialing it way back to the eighties and going deep. Deep cuts have always been an important element of music listening to me because they’re often the songs that resonate with me most. Deep cuts are usually the ones that the true fans appreciate most. I like my singles and hits, but I love my deep cuts.

Life’s Rich Pageant has been described as the critical point in time when the band began to cross over to reach a wider fan base. The reality is that Document was really the album that put the band on the map with non-college rock fans. Still, you look back at Life’s Rich Pageant and see highly accessible classics like “Fall On Me”, “Begin The Begin” and “Superman” side by side with R.E.M. classics like “Swan Swan H”.

Buried deep in the back half of Life’s Rich Pageant, R.E.M. sounds more like a campfire song than a rock song, a strong veer into a more reflective, somber R.E.M. before the vibrant pop of “Superman” closes things out. Of the two tracks, “Swan Swan H” is the one that truly defines the R.E.M. sound in terms of the melody’s composition, the minor guitar chord playing and Stipe’s wailing, arching vocals. It’s a late relic of the band’s unique, original sound.

“A pistol hot cup of rhyme. The whiskey is water, the water is wine.”

"NO. 13 BABY" PIXIES (1989)

For October, the Mental Jukebox is dialing it way back to the eighties and going deep. Deep cuts have always been an important element of music listening to me because they’re often the songs that resonate with me most. Deep cuts are usually the ones that the true fans appreciate most. I like my singles and hits, but I love my deep cuts.

The art of creating a stellar two-minute banger is one thing. Creating an album full of them is another. Doolittle doesn’t let up. Ever. On tour, the band still trots out a bunch of these tracks – and honestly I wish they would play the whole album in sequence. It’s an album where the deep cuts were just as strong as the singles. The singles, “Here Comes Your Man” and “Monkey Gone To Heaven” in particular, may have been more melodic. But most fans love the Pixies for the fits of rage where melodies almost don’t matter. Case in point: “No. 13 Baby”.

Black Francis could’ve sung this one without a coherent tune and it would still be just as strong. On “No. 13 Baby”, Dave and Kim lay down a chunky rhythmic bed, but musically this is Joey’s show. His guitar is, at times, possessed on the song. Sometimes it feels like it’s buried underground only to rise from the dead and die again. It’s that soft-loud-soft dynamic perfected where the guitar gets us to rise and fall along with it.

“Viva, don't want no blue eyes. La loma, I want brown eyes.”

"GYPSY" SUZANNE VEGA (1987)

For October, the Mental Jukebox is dialing it way back to the eighties and going deep. Deep cuts have always been an important element of music listening to me because they’re often the songs that resonate with me most. Deep cuts are usually the ones that the true fans appreciate most. I like my singles and hits, but I love my deep cuts.

Solitude Standing will always hold a special place in my heart. Suzanne was the first music artist that I met in person. She signed both my Solitude Standing and 99.9 F CDs at Tower Records in Greenwich Village back in the early 90’s. About 25 years later, I saw her perform literally 10 feet left of center from me at Joe’s Pub. Unsurprisingly, only “Luka” and “Tom’s Diner” from Solitude Standing made it on the setlist. It was an incredible night of wit and music. But I was disappointed she didn’t play “Gypsy”.

In 1987, my music tastes mainly leaned in two directions: a classic hard rock direction including the likes of Rush, Pink Floyd and Zeppelin, and an alternative rock direction including R.E.M., U2, Depeche Mode and the like. “Gypsy” with its folk-inspired elements, was clearly neither of these. It’s a song that helped me to appreciate the strength of great songwriting and storytelling, not just a killer guitar riff or synth hook. “Gypsy” is beautifully written, showcasing Vega’s unique ability to merge poetry with prose.

“You come from far away With pictures in your eyes.”

"BYE BYE BAD MAN" THE STONE ROSES (1989)

For October, the Mental Jukebox is dialing it way back to the eighties and going deep. Deep cuts have always been an important element of music listening to me because they’re often the songs that resonate with me most. Deep cuts are usually the ones that the true fans appreciate most. I like my singles and hits, but I love my deep cuts.

The day I discovered The Stone Roses’ debut album was a watershed moment for me as a music fan. Looking back, I think this is when I became a serious fan of music. I got lost in the music – and I couldn’t help but dissect every element of those songs. The Velvet Underground was known as the band that made its listeners want to start their own band. Well, that’s what The Stone Roses did for me. One of the less heralded tracks on the debut record would be another band’s anthem track. “Bye Bye Bad Man” is resolutely a significant part of my life’s soundtrack.

The melody is exceptional. So exceptional, in fact, that I can’t imagine another band concocting it. It gives “Bye Bye Bad Man” that rare juxtaposition of smooth flow and hard edges. Instrumentally there are no slouches here. Every band piece is so critical to the sound. Each member adds serious muscle to the track – from Ian Brown’s Manchester drone and Squire’s jangle fest on guitar to Mani’s chunky bass meanderings and Reni’s garage rock sound on drums. The song is a reminder of how endearing Tracks 1-12 were, not just the single releases. An extraordinary track from one of the most impressive debut albums of all time.

“Choke me, smoke the air in this citrus-sucking sunshine. I don't care. You're not all there.”

"OSCILLATE WILDLY" THE SMITHS (1987)

For October, the Mental Jukebox is dialing it way back to the eighties and going deep. Deep cuts have always been an important element of music listening to me because they’re often the songs that resonate with me most. Deep cuts are usually the ones that the true fans appreciate most. I like my singles and hits, but I love my deep cuts.

The U.K. had The World Won’t Listen. The U.S. had Louder Than Bombs, one of my all-time favorite compilations and albums, period. It might seem odd to call a track off a compilation as a deep cut – as compilations are often comprised of the hits or singles. However, just like New Order’s Substance, Louder Than Bombs contained a heavy dose of spectacular b-sides, including “Oscillate Wildly”.

More than any other song from the band, “Oscillate Wildly” demonstrated Johnny Marr’s musical intellect and diverse palette beyond traditional guitar riffs. It was the b-side to “How Soon is Now?” and sat quietly on the deep compilation album Louder Than Bombs. More notably, it was an instrumental. The subtle brilliance of “Oscillate Wildly” made me wish The Smiths recorded more instrumentals. To this day, it still remains one of my favorite Smiths tracks.

"1963" NEW ORDER (1987)

As an eighties kid, synth pop has been pumping in my blood ever since that first day I turned on my MTV. There’s some debate as to who’s considered a synth pop band and who isn’t. For this September Music Twitter challenge – #SynthPopSeptember – I’m focusing more on what’s considered synth pop, not who. The songs I’m featuring on Mental Jukebox this month aren’t solely composed of synthesizers. There may be drums, bass, and dare I say, electric guitars. But each of these songs were picked because the synthesizer is core to its being.

More than the average band, New Order recorded dozens of tracks that never made their way onto their studio releases. “1963” was one of them. This was a song that seemed vastly undervalued by the band at first. But luckily it didn’t stay off the radar for long, despite being the b-side to the bold and brash “True Faith” single. I remember first discovering the song on Long Island’s WDRE (WLIR), which had a healthy habit of playing deep cuts and forgotten tracks. Nearly a decade later, “1963” eventually became a single in its own right. My question for the band is, what took so long?

“1963” was a rare treat for New Order fans like me. A lot of the band’s synth-driven work was either slow-tempo or up-tempo. But this track is as pure mid-tempo as it gets. The highlight for me are the lyrics. This just might be the most well-written song from Sumner. He created a peculiar fictional narrative around J.F.K., Marilyn Monroe and Lee Harvey Oswald. It’s brilliant storytelling. Then, musically, Sumner’s shimmery riffs give way to Gillian Gilbert’s synth grooves that toggle between dreamy and doom.

“I saw hatred in his eyes. But he never meant to hurt me.”

"DISINTEGRATION" THE CURE (1989)

A great title track is par for the course when it comes to great albums. If the title track doesn’t cut it, what does that say about the album itself? This month, the Mental Jukebox will be playing some of my favorite title tracks – inspired by @NicolaB_73’s music Twitter challenge, #TopTitleTracks.

Disintegration might be my favorite album of all time. There’s not a single second of filler on it. While my order of favorite tracks may have shifted over the years, one song has always stayed #1: the title track. It’s not only the magnum opus of the album and my favorite song from the band, it’s the quintessential Cure track – both as a produced piece and as a frequent inclusion on Cure concert set lists.

The song opens with the sound of glass shattering, and then immediately hands the duties of keeping the mood alive over to Gallup, who delivers one of his more memorable bass lines. Guitars and keys are given their time to marinate. On “Disintegration”, they’re cascading along a never-ending downward spiral, becoming a microcosm of the entire album that keeps descending further and further into the abyss. Robert’s vocals finally enter the picture at the 1:34 mark. But in the live setting, it’s the critical piece. It’s the element that makes “Disintegration” feel truly immersive. On Disintegration’s title track, we are not passive participants. We are part of the story.

“Songs about happiness murmured in dreams
And we both of us knew how the end always is.”

"HEAVEN OR LAS VEGAS" COCTEAU TWINS (1990)

A great title track is par for the course when it comes to great albums. If the title track doesn’t cut it, what does that say about the album itself? This month, the Mental Jukebox will be playing some of my favorite title tracks – inspired by @NicolaB_73’s music Twitter challenge, #TopTitleTracks.

It’s a shame more people don’t know the remarkable beauty and ingenuity of Cocteau Twins. The Heaven or Las Vegas album may have been their most well-known effort, but it still soars blissfully under the radar after all these years. The band helped create the soundscaped genre of dream pop much like how My Bloody Valentine helped shape the shoegaze equivalent. The title track, in particular, is one of my favorite Cocteau tracks to get lost in.

“Heaven or Las Vegas” emanates and enlightens. It could’ve made the darkest recesses of the earth sound euphoric. Elizabeth Fraser, once again, sounded more angelic than human. The swirling synths are practically hypnotizing, while the guitar holds you in a steady trance with these gorgeous cascading arpeggios and soaring riffs. Clocking in at nearly five minutes, “Heaven or Las Vegas” has become a shining example, not just of dream pop, but of any soundscape genre.

“I want to love. I've all the wrong glory.”

"CANDLELAND" IAN MCCULLOCH (1989)

A great title track is par for the course when it comes to great albums. If the title track doesn’t cut it, what does that say about the album itself? This month, the Mental Jukebox will be playing some of my favorite title tracks – inspired by @NicolaB_73’s music Twitter challenge, #TopTitleTracks.

From 1989 to 1990 I had Candleland on heavy rotation on my boombox. My radio station WDRE introduced me to the singles (“Proud To Fall”, “Faith and Healing”), and the rest is history. I like Echo & the Bunnymen, but they’re a band whose albums I rarely listen to from beginning to end. But that was never the case with McCulloch’s debut solo album. I listened to it in its entirety over and over again – and the title track was one of my favorite songs of the bunch.

“Candleland” has that dreamlike dimension to it with McCulloch’s gentle cascading guitar riffs. It’s been decades since I last heard this song, but McCulloch’s guitar brings me right back to the summer of 1990. I didn’t know it at the time, but that’s Liz Fraser (Cocteau Twins) on backing vocals. If you wanted to give your song an angelic quality, you can’t find a better accompanying vocalist than Fraser. “Candeland” is a euphoric three-minute escape from all that weighs us down.

“Wear your guilt like skin And keep your sins disguised.”

"RESISTANCE" MUSE (2009)

A great title track is par for the course when it comes to great albums. If the title track doesn’t cut it, what does that say about the album itself? This month, the Mental Jukebox will be playing some of my favorite title tracks – inspired by @NicolaB_73’s music Twitter challenge, #TopTitleTracks.

Muse is a band that was a bit of an acquired taste for me. While I’m relatively open-minded to different styles and genres, I do lean toward a “less is more” mentality, preferring minimal to maximal. But I started to appreciate Muse’s “more is more” approach when my son took an interest in the band. I started to appreciate the level of musicianship and complexity of arrangements despite being a three-piece band. I started to appreciate the diverse musical phases of Muse – metal bangers, prog epics, vast synthscapes, pop melodies. And somewhere in the middle is the title track from the 2009 record The Resistance.

The title track is the glue that connects the guitar-driven opener “Uprising” and the synth poppy “Undisclosed Desires”.”Resistance” is an aural tour de force that combines accessible synth hooks, melodic bass lines, and deafening guitar riffs. It leans in on just about every Muse impulse (except the metal banger side). “Resistance” is also quite the live anthem, a song concert attendees can’t help but belt along to as if they were part of the resistance themselves.

“You'll wake the thought police. We can't hide the truth inside.”