In the early 90s, my musical experience was shaped by Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Jane’s Addiction, Smashing Pumpkins, among others. All great bands in their own right. But James flew under the radar for me. That whole time, they were steady, consistent and absolutely clear on their identity. And “Born of Frustration” was one of their best, elevating beyond the grunge agenda with James’ vigorous falsetto vocals and memorable trumpet accompaniment.
“All this frustration. I can't meet all my desires. Strange conversation. Self control has just expired.”
This is maybe not the first song you’re reminded of when you think of Johnny Cash. There were all the country classics and then the monumental covers, most notably Cash’s haunting interpretation of Nine Inch Nails’ “Hurt”. But in between those two signature phases was this song that epitomized the thing I’ve always loved most about Cash. That deep and unforgettable bass vocal. There’s nothing else like it in music history.
“A bolt of fear went through him as they thundered through the sky. For he saw the riders coming hard and he heard their mournful cry.”
I’ve seen Bird perform this a handful of times at various venues—from Terminal 5 to Brooklyn Steel. What strikes me most about the song is its versatility. It was the beautiful violin arrangements that won me over at first. While I’ve seen both full string performances and stripped-down versions, later I came to realize it’s Bird’s love letter lyrics to his hometown of Chicago and the melody that it dances along to that I love most about “Pulaski at Night”.
“I paint you a picture of Pulaski at night. Come back to Chicago. City of, city of light.”
It wasn’t your typical Pink Floyd, neither falling within the prog rock era or their hard rock catalog. Nonetheless, “Wish You Were Here” was one of their best, most memorable songs - even deemed by Waters and Gilmour as being one of their finest collaborations. It’s one of my favorite Floyd songs of all time because it struck an emotional chord and went surprisingly minimal, allowing just the melody, lyrics and unforgettable guitar riff to shine.
“We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl year after year.”
There are no entrancing guitar riffs from The Edge here. No percussion barrage from Larry Mullen Jr. Just a reflective ode to the one and only Martin Luther King, Jr. from Bono. It flies in the face of everything that we see happening in the world - not just musically, but thematically. The Unforgettable Fire had quite a few unforgettable songs, but “MLK”, as the final track on the album, quietly and thoughtfully grabbed our attention and conscience in the most understated way.
On Random Access Memories, Daft Punk collaborated with everyone from Pharrell to Panda Bear. My favorite is “Instant Crush” with Strokes frontman Julian Casablancas. Mind you, it didn’t have the same distinct Daft Punk electronic feel or the same distortion-soaked Strokes sound, but it balanced the two worlds rather well. Casablancas wrote the lyrics, sang them and played guitar—and behind it all were the steady, prodding Daft Punk electric jolts and hooks.
“The summer memory that just never dies. We worked too long and hard to give it no time.”
Yesterday, my Mental Jukebox played Dylan. Today, I’m playing Dylan’s son. This was, by far, the most impactful and memorable Wallflowers song. In 1996, it was king. I remember toward the end of one night at a party, when almost everyone had left and all the booze was done, me, my friend’s sister and her friend - an unlikely trio - kept going with this song into the wee hours of the night, dancing and grooving without saying a word to each other.
“Come on, try a little. Nothing is forever. There's got to be something better than in the middle.”
The most powerful thing about this classic song is this: “Blowin’ in the Wind” is written and sung with the wisdom and reflection of a much older man. But Dylan was only 21 when he wrote and recorded it. It’s the lead track from one of the most celebrated folk albums of all time. “Blowin’ in the Wind” wasn’t just played in concert halls either. It has gone on to take on greater meaning—sung everywhere from church gatherings to civil rights movements.
“How many times must a man look up before he can see the sky? And how many ears must one man have before he can hear people cry? Yes, and how many deaths will it take 'til he knows that too many people have died? The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind.”
Right on the heels of The Supremes era came a solo album that carried strands of connective tissue back to her iconic Motown roots. The brass arrangements and harmonies felt reminiscent of The Supremes, but there was also an evolution in her sound. In “Remember Me'“, Diana Ross took an Ashford & Simpson composition and brought us a rendition that’s as bright, lovely and nostalgic as the lyrics themselves.
“Remember me when you drink the wine of sweet success and I gave you my best. Remember me every song you sing. Remember me as a good thing.”
Music has the ability to change our mood and mindset. At least the good, powerful stuff can. “Thunderbolt’s Goodnight” is that kind of song. The pandemic hasn’t been exactly a restful time. But this song reminds me to reflect on what’s most important and slow down enough to catch the beautiful moments in life. Its contemplative nature makes it a tune best played at night. “Thunderbolt’s Goodnight” is the calm after the storm.
“Take this feeling, take my dark and reeling mind from these poor words. Find a meaning far deeper than these clumsy lines.”
One weekend during high school, I bought The Queen is Dead” cassette and then played it non-stop that very same night. An album this good only comes out maybe once a decade. And “There is a Light That Never Goes Out” was the lynchpin to the whole thing. Many great Smiths songs seem to be composed of stories of odd, sad characters and stunning guitar riffs by Johny Marr. But “There is a Light…” created something moodier, more orchestrated, more epic. This is my favorite Smiths song of all time.
“Take me out tonight because I want to see people and I want to see life. Driving in your car, oh, please don't drop me home because it's not my home, it's their home and I'm welcome no more.”
A couple of summers ago at Jones Beach, I caught both the Pixies and Weezer in one epic night. It was like stepping into a time machine, diving into the catalog of two of the most respected bands of their era. “Say It Ain’t So” remains, in my mind, the quintessential Weezer anthem. While “Hash Pipe” rocked hard and “Island in the Sun” laid low, “Say It Ain’t So” shifted from languid to lightning with some of the band’s best guitar playing and storytelling.
“Say it ain't so. Your drug is a heart breaker. Say it ain't so. My love is a life taker.”
One of the most powerful things about music is emotional dimensionality. And in music history, you can point to dozens of songs that teeter back and forth between the quiet and reflective and the sonic and voracious. But in my opinion, few do it as well as Band of Horses’ “The Funeral”. Death is a complicated thing, representing emotions as far apart from each other as the two musical states played out on the record.
“At every occasion, I'll be ready for the funeral.”
Some of the best songs ever written are based on simple human experiences. John Denver powerfully captured the simple act of going away on a trip and all the emotions that it triggers, and then Peter, Paul and Mary elevated it. Listening to “Leaving on a Jet Plane” is like stepping inside a time machine. It’s a microcosm of the 1960s, capturing everything from the free spirit and sentimentality to the musical style and production approach reminiscent of the decade.
“I hate to wake you up to say goodbye, but the dawn is breakin'. It's early morn. The taxi's waitin'. He's blowin' his horn. Already I'm so lonesome I could die.”
In my previous post, I wrote about the evolution of The National. In this one, I look at an even more dramatic change in a band’s musical demeanor. Yes went from prog rock to album oriented rock to something resembling new wave and pop on the album 90125. Those of us who grew up on MTV will never forget “Owner of a Lonely Heart”. It was still musically ambitious, but it was equally musically accessible with its spastic synth blurbs and killer bass line in the bridge.
“Move yourself. You always live your life never thinking of the future. Prove yourself. You are the move you make.”
A couple of months before the pandemic, I saw The National at NYC’s legendary Beacon Theater. They showed excerpts from a short film directed by Mike Mills, featuring songs from I Am Easy To Find—and ended with just a small handful of the fan favs. That night, I saw an evolution of the band that I’ve loved for many years. It’s not that they lost their edge, but they were older, wiser and more contemplative now—and “Light Years” was their beautiful banner statement for this new era.
“I was always ten feet behind you from the start.”
Listening to Tapestry, I can’t help but marvel at the depth of this classic album from top to bottom. Without exaggeration, it is like the great American songbook, with every song carrying its own weight and contributing to musical history. One of my favorites has always been the sincere, heart-filled “You’ve Got a Friend”. Simple. Raw. Honest. Beautiful. All of these qualities make her original superior to the popularized JT cover.
“If the sky above you grows dark and full of clouds and that old north wind begins to blow, keep your head together and call my name out loud. Soon you'll hear me knocking at your door.”
One of the most distinctive voices of any genre. Billie Holiday’s voice is permanently engrained in musical history and in our hearts. When you don’t judge music technically, but emotionally, you realize that no one comes close to her style and the effect she has had on audiences and musicians alike. Here’s the thing about “Blue Moon”. It was sung by dozens of performers before her. But Billie, using her signature flair for improvisation, took a few liberties with the melody to make it her own and truly memorable.
“Blue moon, you knew just what I was there for. You heard me saying a prayer for someone I really could care for.”
One of the catalysts for my love of live music was an Indigo Girls show that I caught back in high school. The songwriting and the harmonies were unlike anything else that was playing on the radio at the time. A few years later, Swamp Ophelia came out—and it was probably the Indigo Girls at their height. Memories of beach trips to the Mass north shore and “Least Complicated” blasting out of my friend’s car speakers are permanently entwined in my head.
“I sit two stories above the street. It's awful quiet here since love fell asleep.”
At the end of the music video for “E-Pro”, Beck is seen hopping from one celestial musical note to another. It’s quite an accurate portrayal of what he was doing experimentally in this song. As the opening song to Guero, it was a refreshing departure from the beautiful doldrums of Sea Change. But what made “E-Pro” hugely addictive during a time when post-punk was running rampant was its electro-charged guitar jumpstart.
“The good in us is all we know. There's too much left to taste that's bitter.”
