"(NOTHING BUT) FLOWERS" TALKING HEADS (1988)

Pick four songs from any band and you can tell a lot about their sound. This summer, I’m featuring #RockBlocks, four picks from bands across various genres. They might be wildly different from each other, but what binds them together is the fact that they’re all a part of my life soundtrack.

The album Naked, in one sense, represents the ongoing evolution of Talking Heads. It is far less poppier than their previous studio release True Stories. But in another sense, it’s a return back to the band’s early work that was influenced largely by world music. On “(Nothing But) Flowers”, the musical trajectory leans much closer to the aesthetic and structure of Paul Simon’s iconic Graceland album. And I just love it.

One of the instrumental delights on the track is the inclusion of Johnny Marr on lead guitar. Fresh off The Smiths’ breakup, Marr jumped in to lay down a track that sounded in lock step with the Talking Heads world beat approach. But it also interestingly sounded distinctly like Johnny Marr at the same time. The similarities to his signature riff on “Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now” are unmistakeable. With wide-ranging scales, “(Nothing But) Flowers” is also one of Byrne’s greatest vocal achievements with the band.

“This was a Pizza Hut. Now it's all covered with daisies.”

"STAY UP LATE" TALKING HEADS (1985)

Pick four songs from any band and you can tell a lot about their sound. This summer, I’m featuring #RockBlocks, four picks from bands across various genres. They might be wildly different from each other, but what binds them together is the fact that they’re all a part of my life soundtrack.

Little Creatures veered toward a more country rock feel, following the new wave expressions found on Speaking in Tongues. This was a happier, more whimsical record. It contains some of my favorite Talking Heads standalone songs, including the acapella-infused “Road to Nowhere”, the spunky “And She Was” and the helplessly silly “Stay Up Late”.

Lip rolls, pig snorts and baby talk. These are the kinds of elements that surface throughout “Stay Up Late” on a bed of deliberately simple piano chords and guitar twangs. There might be a metaphor here about man and woman. Or maybe it’s an observation of enjoying oneself at another’s expense. Or this song could really just be about a cute baby and wanting to keep him up late — and that’s it. “Stay Up Late” is a snapshot of the mundane. It’s everyday life. It’s relatable. And it’s the antithesis of rock & roll attitude, which I think is what I love most about this endearing Talking Heads anthem.

“Sister, sister, he's just a plaything. We want to make him stay up all night.”

"GIRLFRIEND IS BETTER" TALKING HEADS (1983)

Pick four songs from any band and you can tell a lot about their sound. This summer, I’m featuring #RockBlocks, four picks from bands across various genres. They might be wildly different from each other, but what binds them together is the fact that they’re all a part of my life soundtrack.

The entire Speaking in Tongues album is reflective of the band’s roots as design school friends. At RISD, they learned that art isn’t created in a vacuum. So much of it is seeking out inspiration from other forms and movements. Each track on the album has a unique expression. “Burning Down the House” brought on the power. “This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody)” brought on the hooks. And “Girlfriend is Better” brought on the funk.

True to the highly collaborative nature of Talking Heads, Jerry Harrison focused on guitars while bringing on longtime sideman Bernie Worrell to take the synth contributions to the next level. Harrison and Worrell are in complete lock step. It’s a beautiful thing to hear — and we get to see it with our eyes on the documentary Stop Making Sense. “Girlfriend is Better” is just one more example of the band’s ability to bend existing genres and put them into orbit around the idyllic, quirky world of Talking Heads. Not the other way around.

“We're being taken for a ride again.”

"TAKE ME TO THE RIVER" TALKING HEADS (1978)

Pick four songs from any band and you can tell a lot about their sound. This summer, I’m featuring #RockBlocks, four picks from bands across various genres. They might be wildly different from each other, but what binds them together is the fact that they’re all a part of my life soundtrack.

The biggest complement I can give about this track is that I thought it was a Talking Heads song all this time. I had no idea it was penned by Al Green. The original studio recording is really, really good. But what Talking Heads did was make it all their own. It’s one of my favorite songs from the band —not just because it’s so irresistibly catchy, but because it’s a foreshadowing of more great things to come.

In helping to shape the sound of new wave, “Take Me to the River” borrowed from blues, gospel and rock & roll. “Take Me to the River” was a blueprint for Talking Heads’ subsequent recordings and for other bands in the new wave genre. While certainly complementary, each instrument doesn’t bleed into the others. Instead, they each have their own moment. There’s a subtlety and use of restraint in Byrne’s vocals and Harrison’s synth creations, yet there’s so much character and power in every note. Meanwhile, Tina Weymouth’s bass lines are bold, muscular and playful, in stark contrast to another influential post punk era bassist: Peter Hook.

“Dip me in the river, drop me in the water. Washing me down, washing me down.”

"CEREMONY" JOY DIVISION (1980)

Pick four songs from any band and you can tell a lot about their sound. This summer, I’m featuring #RockBlocks, four picks from bands across various genres. They might be wildly different from each other, but what binds them together is the fact that they’re all a part of my life soundtrack.

As one of the last Joy Division songs written by Ian Curtis, “Ceremony” always felt less like a final statement to me, and more like an open-ended question: What if Curtis was still alive today? What if the Joy Division journey carried on? I believe “Ceremony” gives us a glimpse into what that world could’ve looked like, in all its raw, unpolished glory.

“Ceremony” started and ended heavy on the guitars. These were iconic, scorching riffs from Bernard Sumner, and definitely not indicative of the synth-led musical direction that would take shape in the form of New Order. But unlike a good portion of the Joy Division canon, the mood of the melody was in direct contrast with the theme of the lyrics — a dynamic that would later be adopted by The Smiths and other bands. Still atmospheric and edgy, it showed that post punk didn’t have to be characterized by a single emotion or mood. Just like life.

“Heaven knows, it's got to be this time.”

"LOVE WILL TEAR US APART" JOY DIVISION (1980)

Pick four songs from any band and you can tell a lot about their sound. This summer, I’m featuring #RockBlocks, four picks from bands across various genres. They might be wildly different from each other, but what binds them together is the fact that they’re all a part of my life soundtrack.

When I first started listening to Long Island’s WDRE, the band Joy Division was revered, adored and celebrated. They didn’t get the amount of airplay that other artists like The Smiths, The Cure or Depeche Mode achieved. But they certainly got more respect. They were, in many ways, viewed as the elder statesmen. They made a huge impact and helped shape the sound of many bands in their shortlived years. But this band wouldn’t have commanded the attention it deserved if it weren’t for “Love Will Tear Us Apart”. For critics and fans alike, this was the gateway song that introduced us to the rest of the Joy Division canon.

If you want to know the difference between punk and post punk, all you have to do is listen to “Love Will Tear Us Apart”. I think this one song helped define a new genre. Gone was the anger. Gone were the over-simplistic chord progressions. Gone was the rebellion. In came a flood of feelings — sadness, regret and misery — along with an instrumentation that was more atmospheric than sonic. The genius of “Love Will Tear Us Apart” isn’t that it’s simply a remarkable new sound. It also showed us a new way to express ourselves that no one else was doing with music.

“And we're changing our ways, taking different roads. Love, love will tear us apart again.”

"GLASS" JOY DIVISION (1978)

Pick four songs from any band and you can tell a lot about their sound. This summer, I’m featuring #RockBlocks, four picks from bands across various genres. They might be wildly different from each other, but what binds them together is the fact that they’re all a part of my life soundtrack.

In three years, Joy Division did more than what most bands accomplish over decades. Because the amount of recordings just isn’t much, it kind of forces listeners to pore through familiar tracks over and over again, discovering new wrinkles and things to admire about the band. One such exercise is exploring the lesser heralded Still album, a compilation of songs from the band’s beginnings to the death of Ian Curtis. “Glass”, in particular, is as close as you can get to a Joy Division deep cut without delving into some of those inaudible concert recordings that have been circulating.

For me, this is a song that has gotten better with time. It has all the markings of not just post punk, but striking resemblances to the post punk revival scene of the early 2000s. Interpol has often been cited as one such band largely influenced by Joy Division. After the dark torment of the lyrics and the eerie Ian Curtis-like baritone drone that we hear in Paul Banks’ voice, the similarities between the two bands end for the most part. But when I play “Glass” again, I hear Interpol all over it — from Kessler’s grating riffs to Fogarino’s rhythmic barrage. “Glass” is a window into one of New York City’s greatest music eras.

“Hearts fail. Young hearts fail.”

"SHE'S LOST CONTROL" JOY DIVISION (1979)

Pick four songs from any band and you can tell a lot about their sound. This summer, I’m featuring #RockBlocks, four picks from bands across various genres. They might be wildly different from each other, but what binds them together is the fact that they’re all a part of my life soundtrack.

The album title Unknown Pleasures is an appropriate one. The record is full of sounds and explorations never heard before. Ian Curtis, Bernard Sumner, Hooky and Stephen Morris all did things on it that were truly inventive and inspirational for bands and instrumentalists, even still today. One of the more well known tracks, “She’s Lost Control”, was infectious, but far from accessible — and that’s what I love most about it.

There’s something strangely addictive about the song. It starts with an unusual drum part from Stephen Morris, which feels deliberately industrial. In the film biopic Control, Morris is seen spraying an aerosol can into the mic to manufacture the signature sound. Then things get even weirder with Hooky’s mesmerizing bass line played way up high on the neck. The oddness continues as Curtis stumbles in singing about a woman who suffers from epileptic seizures — and it seems he’s having one himself as he sings it. This leaves us with Bernard Sumner who’s busy carving out a grating riff that’s lower than Hooky’s bass line. It’s a strange composition that I can’t seem to stop listening to once I start.

“And she gave away the secrets of her past and said ‘I've lost control again.’”

"LET IT CARRY YOU" JOSE GONZALEZ (2015)

Pick four songs from any band and you can tell a lot about their sound. This summer, I’m featuring #RockBlocks, four picks from bands across various genres. They might be wildly different from each other, but what binds them together is the fact that they’re all a part of my life soundtrack.

Vestiges & Claws is my favorite Jose Gonzalez album from beginning to end. On it, he continues to evolve his sound with new techniques and styles primarily driven by his acoustic guitar. But the album is still 100% Jose Gonzalez. On Vestiges & Claws, he never tries to shed his musical persona or attempt to be like anyone else. But yet he does things instrumentally that he hasn’t done before, like on “Let it Carry You”.

On the surface, this seems like a happier, less introspective Jose Gonzalez song. But it’s much more than that. “Let it Carry You” is like a musical inverse of the artist’s standard fare. In concert, he plays both the treble riffs and the bass simultaneously, just as he does with all of his songs in a live setting. But here he flips the emphasis on its head, making the bass the driving force and identity of the song, while the treble notes play a secondary role. It’s a brilliant move, because even with the inverse it still sounds just like Jose Gonzalez.

“And this song into the fall. All things near of things gone to remind of all restless souls of the beauty of being here.”

"STAY ALIVE" JOSE GONZALEZ (2013)

Pick four songs from any band and you can tell a lot about their sound. This summer, I’m featuring #RockBlocks, four picks from bands across various genres. They might be wildly different from each other, but what binds them together is the fact that they’re all a part of my life soundtrack.

In Jose Gonzalez’s limited, but impactful contributions to movie soundtracks, he has tended to venture beyond his comfort zone, opening up the musical possibilities and significantly expanding his instrumentation. What makes “Stay Alive” an unusual track is the song appears to be completely devoid of his trademark classical guitar sound — and that’s exactly what makes it so good.

From the get go, the song is driven by piano, not the acoustic guitar. In your first listen, you wait for the acoustic guitar to arrive, but it never does. Instead the song continues to evolve and expand beyond the piano with drums, electric guitar and synthesizers to supply a symphonic accompaniment. While it’s a significant departure instrumentally, there’s something about “Stay Alive” that seems to capture the essence of Jose Gonzalez. Perhaps it’s this, that even with a more sonic, fuller expression his signature soft vocal melody is still firmly intact.

“Dawn is coming. Open your eyes.”

"CYCLING TRIVIALITIES" JOSE GONZALEZ (2007)

Pick four songs from any band and you can tell a lot about their sound. This summer, I’m featuring #RockBlocks, four picks from bands across various genres. They might be wildly different from each other, but what binds them together is the fact that they’re all a part of my life soundtrack.

In my first #RockBlock selection for Jose Gonzalez, I briefly described the hyper-awareness with which his fans enjoy his music. Aside from his acoustic guitar and voice, there’s rarely anything else to distract us. So we are hyper attuned to those two elements. Of course, there are exceptions, particularly Jose’s work on movie soundtracks. But the stark, clean approach of his music is what’s most appealing. In many ways, “Cycling Trivialities” is a treatise of this approach to music.

Few bands break the 8 minute barrier, but those that do usually do so in a highly memorable way. Zeppelin. Dylan. Neil Young. Even The Stone Roses. But when Jose Gonzalez did it, the length came out of nowhere. It was unexpected. But in true fashion, the artist was trying to make a point. The entire In Our Nature album is about the human condition. And on “Cycling Trivialities”, he used the entire 8 minutes and 9 seconds to hammer home the theme of his song. It’s a brilliant listen and a transcendent experience live in concert.

“All this time you were chasing dreams. Without knowing what you wanted them to mean.”

"CROSSES" JOSE GONZALEZ (2003)

Pick four songs from any band and you can tell a lot about their sound. This summer, I’m featuring #RockBlocks, four picks from bands across various genres. They might be wildly different from each other, but what binds them together is the fact that they’re all a part of my life soundtrack.

For music fans, the world of Jose Gonzalez is one of hyper-awareness. A world where every single note created by Jose’s voice and acoustic guitar matters. Having seen him several times live, I can attest to the fact that his shows always felt different compared to other concerts. The crowd observes attentively and silently at every word muttered and every pluck of his intricate guitar work, which often play two parts at the same exact time. “Crosses” was one of the first few songs that brought me into this world, one which I continue to escape to every so often.

While “Heartbeats” was the front door to Jose Gonzalez’s music for many fans, “Crosses” is the foyer. It welcomes you and draws you in. The musical marvel of rhythmic guitar and bass being played at the same time on an acoustic guitar and Jose’s captivating vocal presence are like the spiral staircase and chandelier. We stand here in this space in full admiration and we can stay there for quite a while. But when the time’s right, we also want to explore the rest of the house and see what each room in this phenomenal musical catalog has to offer.

“We'll cast some light and you'll be alright.”

"DRIVE" R.E.M. (1992)

Pick four songs from any band and you can tell a lot about their sound. This summer, I’m featuring #RockBlocks, four picks from bands across various genres. They might be wildly different from each other, but what binds them together is the fact that they’re all a part of my life soundtrack.

A new, evolved side to R.E.M. emerged on Automatic for the People. The mid-tempo pacing that was the band’s longstanding sweet spot was quite suddenly replaced with slow tempo-driven songs which, in my opinion, were the best songs on the album, including “Nightswimming”, “Everybody Hurts” and the most underrated track of the bunch: “Drive.”

On “Drive”, R.E.M. hopped in the car and took us on a slow, prodding journey through a myriad of musical expressions. Its pit stops were western, taking us through a landscape of cactuses, tumbleweeds and abandoned drive-in theaters. But the destination was orchestral, featuring some of the band's most iconic symphonic moments. What makes “Drive” one of the best R.E.M. songs are the lyrics. Stipe’s poeticism is on full display with lyrics that don’t require musical accompaniment.

“Maybe I ride, maybe you walk. Maybe I drive to get off, baby.”

"GET UP" R.E.M. (1988)

Pick four songs from any band and you can tell a lot about their sound. This summer, I’m featuring #RockBlocks, four picks from bands across various genres. They might be wildly different from each other, but what binds them together is the fact that they’re all a part of my life soundtrack.

R.E.M.’s ascent or descent (depending on how you look at it) into the mainstream was building slowly with singles like “It’s the End of the World” and “The One I Love”, but by the time Green came out, it seemed like there was no turning back. “Stand” established the band as a household name, which makes it easy to overlook the fact that some of the band’s best songs are on this album, including “Get Up”.

Michael Stipe names it as one of his favorite R.E.M. anthems. And it’s one of mine as well for a few reasons. First, it’s compact. I think the band’s best songs are all under three minutes. Second, here was an example of the band taking proprietary elements like their mid-tempo melodies, backing vocal chants and Buck’s signature riffs and combining them with brand new elements, most notably the use of music boxes to create a vivid dream world for its fans.

“Dreams, they complicate my life. Dreams, they complement my life.”

"FINEST WORKSONG" R.E.M. (1987)

Pick four songs from any band and you can tell a lot about their sound. This summer, I’m featuring #RockBlocks, four picks from bands across various genres. They might be wildly different from each other, but what binds them together is the fact that they’re all a part of my life soundtrack.

Document is still my favorite R.E.M. album, and Side A is one of the best sides of the decade in my opinion. Document was an about-face for the band. They found a new producer and added more muscle even while staying in their mid-tempo comfort zone. It all started with “Finest Worksong”, which did everything you want and expect from an opening track.

In just the first 10 seconds of “Finest Worksong”, R.E.M. set the agenda for Document and signaled the next stage of their evolution, led by Peter Buck’s ferocious guitar riff. It’s hardly one of Buck’s more complex jams, but it drew you in immediately and somehow the repetition doesn’t get old. At the 3:23 mark, the song peters out with power on the heels of Mike Mills’ slap and pop bass outro, leaving you wanting more.

“What we want and what we need has been confused.”

"SO. CENTRAL RAIN" R.E.M. (1984)

Pick four songs from any band and you can tell a lot about their sound. This summer, I’m featuring #RockBlocks, four picks from bands across various genres. They might be wildly different from each other, but what binds them together is the fact that they’re all a part of my life soundtrack.

Over a 25-year period, R.E.M. went from under-the-radar college rock band to Rock & Roll Hall of Fame inductees. It’s a rare story in rock & roll. And it’s a band that I listen back to fondly. In truth, this is a band that I got bored with after the early 90’s. But I would be lying if I said those early 80’s records didn’t mean something to me. Listening back to Murmur, Reckoning, Lifes Rich Pageant and others, I can’t imagine what alternative rock music would be like without them. Just beneath the holy grail of “Radio Free Europe”, “Everybody Hurts” and “Losing My Religion” is a massive catalog of masterpieces, including an early college rock staple called “So. Central Rain”.

This is Thom Yorke’s favorite R.E.M. song. The Radiohead frontman once praised Michael Stipe for being able to surface an emotion and then take a step back from it to give it more power. This is certainly true of Stipe, of R.E.M. and the song “So. Central Rain”. Only I would phrase it this way. I think what R.E.M. has done masterfully on this track and on so many others is have a laser-focused consciousness of emotion that seems to get stuck on repeat. Why? Because that’s how it often plays out in our lives. We say sorry. But then somehow saying it once doesn’t always seem to be enough.

“Go build yourself another dream, this choice isn't mine. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.”

"ROCK THE CASBAH" THE CLASH (1982)

Pick four songs from any band and you can tell a lot about their sound. This summer, I’m featuring #RockBlocks, four picks from bands across various genres. They might be wildly different from each other, but what binds them together is the fact that they’re all a part of my life soundtrack.

Growing up, I remember seeing the “Rock the Casbah” video air incessantly on MTV. I didn’t fully appreciate The Clash sound back then. It just wasn’t my cup of tea, but I couldn’t pull myself away from the video. The song’s story went over this elementary school kid’s head. Looking back, I wonder if I was listening to it over and over again to try to understand what the hell Strummer was singing about. Maybe I really liked the unusual word “casbah”. Or maybe I just dug the melody.

Years later, I understood “Rock the Casbah” as a narrative about an Arab king trying to ban rock music among his population. But the people rebelled and played the music even louder. At its root, it seems the song was the essence of punk: hard-edged, anti-establishment. But in true Clash fashion, they opted against a stripped-down sound, adding an iconic piano jam, a variety of percussion sounds and synth samples. “Rock the Casbah” was just one more prime example of a band willing to push punk rock further ahead.

"POLICE ON MY BACK" THE CLASH (1980)

Pick four songs from any band and you can tell a lot about their sound. This summer, I’m featuring #RockBlocks, four picks from bands across various genres. They might be wildly different from each other, but what binds them together is the fact that they’re all a part of my life soundtrack.

A year after recording the legendary double album London Calling, The Clash chose not to rest on their laurels. Instead they came back right away with the triple album Sandinista! It probably could’ve been tighter and a lot leaner, but you can’t fault The Clash for their ambition and creativity in pushing their brand of punk into even more genres. “The Magnificent Seven” was the indisputable banner track and it’s still one of my all-time favorite Clash songs, but “Police on My Back” isn’t far behind.

This cover classic showed The Clash could put serious social issues out there, but do it with a sense of humor. The opening guitar riff doubles as a police car siren and the rebellion-fueled chorus once again feels like it always belonged to The Clash, not to the original songwriters. “Police on My Back” proved that, more often than not, it was The Clash that influenced the rest of the music world, not the other way around.

“I been running Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday.”

"CLAMPDOWN" THE CLASH (1979)

Pick four songs from any band and you can tell a lot about their sound. This summer, I’m featuring #RockBlocks, four picks from bands across various genres. They might be wildly different from each other, but what binds them together is the fact that they’re all a part of my life soundtrack.

The fact that London Calling is universally hailed as one of the greatest rock albums of all time is a well-known fact. But what may not be as obvious is why. What the casual fan may miss is that this was not just a record by a punk rock band transitioning to new sounds. This was an album that helped build new genres from the ground up. Some say it was the first post-punk album, many describe it as a seminal new wave LP. And about halfway through it, “Clampdown” laid down the gauntlet.

In many ways, “Clampdown” sounds like the antithesis of punk rock. There’s still that Clash grit, but with it comes an unusual finesse and instrumental nuance. It’s not just an incredibly catchy song, it’s a foreshadowing of the new wave invasion. It’s an introduction to the early sounds and sensibilities of the genre with eerie resemblances to Talking Heads and Elvis Costello. What “Clampdown” made clear was that The Clash actually never lost their punk roots. Instead they brought their punk agenda to the masses.

“The men at the factory are old and cunning. You don't owe nothing, so boy, get running. It's the best years of your life they want to steal.”

"I FOUGHT THE LAW" THE CLASH (1979)

Pick four songs from any band and you can tell a lot about their sound. This summer, I’m featuring #RockBlocks, four picks from bands across various genres. They might be wildly different from each other, but what binds them together is the fact that they’re all a part of my life soundtrack.

“The only band that matters”, The Clash were musical pioneers in every sense of the expression. They inspired. They led. They explored existing genres like ska and reggae, and paved the way for new ones like post-punk and new wave. They were fiercely political. And they simply rocked — whether they were penning originals or reinventing other people’s songs like “I Fought the Law”.

One of the marks of a great cover song is a band’s ability to reset a song as if it was their very own. That’s the one similarity among all the great ones, from Hendrix’s “All Along the Watchtower” to Cash’s “Hurt”. “I Fought the Law” is the same. You think of it as a Clash song first and foremost, and it’s how most music fans will always remember the song. On it, they proved punk didn’t have to be basic, merging riffs from Strummer and Mick Jones to create something far more than just noise and rebellion.

“I fought the law and the law won.”