"DA FUNK" DAFT PUNK (1997)

For the second half of September, I’m putting my Mental Jukebox into a time machine, featuring the best songs on the best albums from the very best years of music. #70sThrough90sBestAlbum

In 1997, there was a New York City club called Au Bar that my crew frequented quite a bit. When I say “frequented”, I mean going Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday night within one week wasn’t exactly unheard of. We were young. We wanted action. And we devoured up all the music. Daft Punk played a big, big part of that. The debut album introduced us to French house, a genre that most of us didn’t know even existed. It was the soundtrack for our nights for the next couple of years until we all settled down and got girlfriends. One of those tracks was “Da Funk”.

Simple synth hooks. Driving, bass-heavy beats. Electromagnetic treble chords. And not much else. The beauty of “Da Funk” is that it wasn’t overly complex. This minimalist approach had a way of making you feel it so viscerally. And what is music’s job to do than allow you to feel it and experience it. Back at Au Bar, that’s all it was to us. And “Da Funk”, “Around the World”, “One More Time” and countless other Daft Punk tracks served their purpose. But what we didn’t realize was how pioneering the French duo was at the time, and how influential they would become.

"THE NEW POLLUTION" BECK (1996)

For the second half of September, I’m putting my Mental Jukebox into a time machine, featuring the best songs on the best albums from the very best years of music. #70sThrough90sBestAlbum

Odelay, like many Beck albums, is a euphoric musical playground. Swing on the samples. Slide down the classic guitar riffs. Climb onto the distortion-infused grooves . Ride on the hip-hop-influenced rhythms. Each track tickles a different fancy. “Devils Haircut” lays down a series of irresistible drum breaks. “Ramshackle” feels like a drunken, late night ode inside a seedy saloon. “Jack-Ass” serves as a foreshadowing to his somber Sea Change album. And then there’s “The New Pollution”.

The track has a sample-driven mentality, but the song seems to traverse these different sounds defiantly and bravely. 50’s TV music. Jazz-drenched samples. 60’s rock. Electronic blips. Somehow it all seems to go together so naturally. On “The New Pollution”, I love how Beck reinvents the tempo of his key sample: a slow sax solo from Joe Thomas’ “Venus” is given a swift kick in the ass with a faster, more brash version of itself, which is then mirrored by Beck’s own guitar.

“She's got a hand on a wheel of pain. She can talk to the mangling strangers. She can sleep in a fiery bog. Throwing troubles to the dying embers.”

"(NICE DREAM)" RADIOHEAD (1995)

For the second half of September, I’m putting my Mental Jukebox into a time machine, featuring the best songs on the best albums from the very best years of music. #70sThrough90sBestAlbum

I was late to the Radiohead party, and probably didn’t even discover The Bends until Kid A descended on the music scene. I think both Kid A and OK Computer were remarkable, but I still preferred The Bends more because the guitars made their mark all over the album. Straight-ahead hard rock riffs in “Just” and the title track. Melancholic expressions on “Fake Plastic Trees” and “Street Spirit”. And spastic outbursts in “My Iron Lung” and “(Nice Dream)”. To this day, “(Nice Dream)” is still one of my favorite Radiohead tracks.

The first two and a half minutes feels like a lullaby. The last minute and a half seems like a nightmare. The song begins with a melody that nearly lulls you to sleep. There is nothing particularly Radiohead about the musicality. Nothing truly unexpected. But the guitar slowly intensifies while a stringed arrangement inserts itself into the dream before we’re jolted into the nightmare at the 2:26 mark. It’s cacophonous. Disorienting. And somewhat unwelcomed. Then, like that, we’re back into the lullaby again. Was the whole thing just a dream?

“If you think that you're strong enough. Nice dream. If you think you belong enough. Nice dream.”

"SELLING THE DRAMA" LIVE (1994)

For the second half of September, I’m putting my Mental Jukebox into a time machine, featuring the best songs on the best albums from the very best years of music. #70sThrough90sBestAlbum

When I went off to college, grunge exploded. Everyone and their non-fanatic roommates were listening to Nirvana and Pearl Jam. But the true music fans, we’re devouring Smashing Pumpkins, Jane’s Addiction and Live. Throwing Copper is the album that I remember my college years by. Not Ten. Not Nevermind. It was still rock ‘n roll to me, but it was relatable. And the song that reeled me into the full album was “Selling the Drama”.

The thing that Live mastered as well as anyone at the time was the quiet-loud-quiet dynamic. Several of their songs on Throwing Copper have it as their blueprint, including “Iris”, “All Over You” and “I Alone”. But “Selling the Drama” stood out with its R.E.M.-esque mid-tempo melody before exploding into the chorus. The highlight, for me, was a self-fulfilling prophesy. Being able to see Live play “Selling the Drama” live. They were damn good in the live setting, and you better be with that band name.

“And to Christ a cross. And to me a chair. I will sit and earn the ransom from up here.”

"IN YOUR ROOM" DEPECHE MODE (1993)

For the second half of September, I’m putting my Mental Jukebox into a time machine, featuring the best songs on the best albums from the very best years of music. #70sThrough90sBestAlbum

Prior to Songs of Faith and Devotion, Depeche Mode was on a steady ascent. Black Celebration. Music for the Masses. Violator. With each release they outdid the previous LP. And they did it once again. Violator may be viewed by many as the band’s greatest recording. But I think Songs of Faith and Devotion was stronger from top to bottom. It was, more or less, a concept album, although few refer to it as that. Each song was part of a common thread of spirituality — and they were all strong tracks on their own. The band had become stadium rockers with songs like “Never Let Me Down Again”, “Personal Jesus” and “Stripped”. But “In Your Room” seemed to exist on another level. It was truly epic.

“In Your Room” furthered the Depeche Mode sound into a darker, guitar-driven world with industrial elements. It felt less tainted by sequencers. It was raw and characterized by that good kind of imperfection. It was also Alan Wilder’s last single with the band — a vastly underrated member of the band who helped define and execute Depeche Mode’s unique sound. I saw the guys perform on the Devotional Tour in ‘93, and the tensions within the band were palpable. It was an incredible album, but they were clearly not the same exciting live act. It was the end of an era, but they certainly ended it on a high note.

“Will you let the fire die down soon.”

"TOMORROW" MORRISSEY (1992)

For the second half of September, I’m putting my Mental Jukebox into a time machine, featuring the best songs on the best albums from the very best years of music. #70sThrough90sBestAlbum

I’ll choose The Smiths over Morrissey’s solo catalog any day of the week, mostly because of the prominence of Johnny Marr’s guitar riffs that countered Morrissey’s unique songwriting style. But when Arsenal came out, it was like Morrissey flipped a switch. He was using a different band, went heavier on the guitars, and started dabbling with sub-genres like rockabilly and glam rock. Each song picked up where the other left off on the album, which finished off on a high note with “Tomorrow”.

I remember seeing Morrissey in ‘93 at Brandeis University, a college that managed to attract dozens of great alt rock staples, like Live, 10,000 Maniacs and others. When I saw Morrissey, we were standing in the Gosman Center gymnasium and he was practically staring right through us. The great paradox of “Tomorrow” and most of Morrissey’s catalog is that these songs of insecurity are sung and performed with such conviction. “Tomorrow” couldn’t fulfill my longing for a Smiths reunion, but every time I hear it I’m reminded of Andy Rourke, Mike Joyce and Marr — from the intro bass line to the piano epilogue.

“Tomorrow, will it really come? And if it does come, will I still be human?”

"ALWAYS ON THE RUN" LENNY KRAVITZ (1991)

For the second half of September, I’m putting my Mental Jukebox into a time machine, featuring the best songs on the best albums from the very best years of music. #70sThrough90sBestAlbum

Mama Said was my introduction to the Lenny Kravitz catalog. It was a fine entry point because it highlighted all the facets of Kravitz’s musicality. Every genre itch. Every tempo shift. He certainly wasn’t the first to combine guitar rock with soul, but he did it as well as anybody. Kravitz’s own personal musical interests were his influences — from James Brown and Curtis Mayfield to Zeppelin and Aerosmith. You can hear all of those influences colliding in “Always on the Run”.

Lenny was prolific and versatile as a musician — and may not necessarily have the greatest reputation as a collaborator. But on “Always on the Run”, he teamed up with his high school classmate Slash. This was almost a Guns ‘n Roses song, but it ended up getting shelved for Mama Said. At the 1:58 mark, Lenny exclaims “Slash”, so there’s no confusion that the kickass guitar solo was his GnR buddy, not himself. About one minute later, dualing saxophones and a trumpet usher us out with bravado.

“And my mama said, ‘Go get all that you're after’. And my mama said that love's all that matters.”

"HEAVEN OR LAS VEGAS" COCTEAU TWINS (1990)

For the second half of September, I’m putting my Mental Jukebox into a time machine, featuring the best songs on the best albums from the very best years of music. #70sThrough90sBestAlbum

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.”

"I'M NOT THE MAN I USED TO BE" FINE YOUNG CANNIBALS (1989)

For the second half of September, I’m putting my Mental Jukebox into a time machine, featuring the best songs on the best albums from the very best years of music. #70sThrough90sBestAlbum

With my The Raw & the Cooked CD in my boombox, I was in for a very good night. I could hear sounds never made before. I could be mesmerized. That rare mix of rock, soul and funk. And that one-of-a-kind voice in Roland Gift. Listening to it over 30 years after it was released I’m amazed that this unusual album was instantly embraced by mainstream and alt rock audiences alike. They were an overnight success, but they did it their way. And my favorite track of them all is “I’m Not the Man I Used to Be”.

This song threw together disparate genres in a blender and gave us something we never tasted before. An incredibly infectious throwback soul sound a la James Brown, sprawled out lavishly on a bed of trip-hop. While “She Drives Me Crazy” and “Good Thing” were right up my alley, “I’m Not the Man I Used to Be” was a little less obvious and jammed to a different groove.

“Wonder what I'm thinking. Wonder why I'm drinking. But it's plain to see. I'm not the man I used to be.”

"ACROSS THE LINES" TRACY CHAPMAN (1988)

For the second half of September, I’m putting my Mental Jukebox into a time machine, featuring the best songs on the best albums from the very best years of music. #70sThrough90sBestAlbum

Some musicians take a little longer to appreciate. That was the case for me with Tracy Chapman and her debut album. “Fast Car” was getting tons of radio airplay, but it wasn’t until I heard the full album that I really started to appreciate what she was doing that no one else was at the time. Some songs grabbed me instantly, like “Baby Can I Hold You” and “Mountains O’Things”. Others eventually got my full, undivided attention after a few listens, and none more so than “Across the Lines”.

“Across the Lines” was genius folk songwriting. It was at another level. This was a black singer giving us a sober look at the world she knew. The song combined the socio-political conscience of Dylan with the raw Americana portraits of Springsteen. It took an incredibly candid, minimalist approach with nowhere to hide. While other artists were wielding their electric guitars, firing up their synthesizers and screaming into their mics, Tracy was strumming on an acoustic and singing from her soul.

“Choose sides. Run for your life. Tonight the riots begin on the back streets of America. They kill the dream of America.”

"DON'T TALK" 10,000 MANIACS (1987)

For the second half of September, I’m putting my Mental Jukebox into a time machine, featuring the best songs on the best albums from the very best years of music. #70sThrough90sBestAlbum

When In My Tribe came out, I couldn’t stop playing it. Those songs ushered me into a different world that I could get lost in over and over again. “What’s the Matter Here?” and “Like the Weather” got all the recognition and airplay, well, at least on college rock stations. But the really good stuff revealed itself halfway through the album with Track 6, an unassuming, but peculiar song called “Don’t Talk”.

While every song was gold on In My Tribe, there was something a bit more magical about “Don’t Talk”. Each of the other tracks seemed to move along at one pace and were characterized by a single persona. But “Don’t Talk” shifted back and forth between three tempos. It was constructed with multiple movements. While most of the album had a very straight-ahead folk sound, this song took some more risks, marrying the aforementioned folk elements with a swirly, shoegaze-inspired sound.

“The drink you drown your troubles in is the trouble you're in now.”

"BRING ON THE DANCING HORSES" ECHO & THE BUNNYMEN (1986)

For the second half of September, I’m putting my Mental Jukebox into a time machine, featuring the best songs on the best albums from the very best years of music. #70sThrough90sBestAlbum

Few albums captured the essence of the 80s better than the Pretty in Pink soundtrack. It was a defining soundscape for the Brat Pack and the exciting, yet incredibly awkward teenage world of John Hughes. The title track was an obvious hit. not to mention “If You Leave” and The Smiths’ mopey ballad “Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want”. But today I’m highlighting a song that less known in mainstream circles, but was huge for new wave kids like me: “Bring on the Dancing Horses”.

This was not Echo & the Bunnymen’s most celebrated song among the masses. That distinction belongs squarely on the shoulders of “The Killing Moon” and “Lips Like Sugar”. But it was an endearing staple for the band’s fans. It was smothered in layers of synth like molasses. A sugary, pop tune that benefited from a simple, catchy melody and a somewhat cryptic commentary on the human soul by Ian McCulloch. Hearing the guys perform this at Coney Island back in 2017, the song felt like a nostalgic new wave trip down memory lane.

“First I'm gonna make it. Then I'm gonna break it till it falls apart.”

"ABOUT TODAY" THE NATIONAL (2004)

For the first half of September, I’ll be selecting my Top 15 favorite songs from The National. A band that has rarely let me down — both in the recording studio and in concert. #FaveArtistTop15

There are songs that wow us for a time, but then whither with age. And then there are songs that stay exceptional, ones that truly stand the test of time. That’s the case with “About Today”. One of The National’s earliest songs, it never even made it onto a full LP. But because of its tremendous staying power, it lives on today on many of their set lists. While Matt Berninger might crowd surf during “Mr. November”, he, the band and the audience take a far different approach to “About Today”. One characterized by a near stillness and quietness.

The song’s beauty is felt in every note. When I listen to it, I want to devour every note, I want to feel all of it. Bryan Devendorf’s tom hits are like heartbeats inside a lover’s chest. The acoustic guitar and string arrangements are like souls entwined yet strangely distant from one another. And Berninger’s lyrics are sung to his lover only and no one else. “About Today” is not just my favorite National song, it’s one of my favorite songs of all time.

“You just close your eyes and I just watch you slip away. How close am I to losing you?”

"BLOODBUZZ OHIO" THE NATIONAL (2010)

For the first half of September, I’ll be selecting my Top 15 favorite songs from The National. A band that has rarely let me down — both in the recording studio and in concert. #FaveArtistTop15

I have no direct ties to the state of Ohio. And I still have no idea what exactly a bloodbuzz is. But from the first time I heard it, I’ve always had a strong affinity for “Bloodbuzz Ohio”. It’s one of my favorite National tracks of all time. This is a song that I’ve never grown tired of. It never lost its luster after all this time. And when I see the band play live, it’s one of the songs I look forward to hearing the most on the setlist. But, why?

“Bloodbuzz Ohio” is actually not a song about Ohio. While that’s where The National hail from originally, the song is so much more than that. It’s actually a coming-of-age narrative. It’s about how when we return home after a long time away, it’s not just the place that has changed, we’ve changed so much as well. The song reminds us to look back for a larger perspective on our lives. And to see that, while the place we call home may change, there’s always a deep affinity and love for the places we came from.

“I was carried to Ohio in a swarm of bees. I never married but Ohio don't remember me.”

"FAKE EMPIRE" THE NATIONAL (2007)

For the first half of September, I’ll be selecting my Top 15 favorite songs from The National. A band that has rarely let me down — both in the recording studio and in concert. #FaveArtistTop15

I discovered Alligator and Boxer at the same time when The National finally crossed my radar. Hearing both albums I was struck by the way the band got into a zone between the two records. While Alligator is still a favorite of mine, Boxer was clearly an output written and recorded by a band that knew their unique identity. They embraced it, ran with it and carved out a sound that no one else can claim. “Fake Empire” was the lead track — but, in many ways, it was also the centerpiece.

“Fake Empire” existed on a grand scale, both musically and lyrically. Considered one of The National’s finest, its structure of revealing various musical layers like an onion sounded more like an orchestra than a rock band. Backed by a syncopated rhythm of piano chords, snare hits and a horn section flourish. the rhythmic delay tied ingeniously to Berninger’s monotone delivery: “We’re half awake in a fake empire.” Lyrically, the song featured some of the band’s most memorable lyrics. While “Fake Empire” is about the mundaneness of life, there is, with absolute certainty, nothing mundane about the song itself.

“Stay out super late tonight. Picking apples, making pies. Put a little something in our lemonade and take it with us.”

"LIGHT YEARS" THE NATIONAL (2019)

For the first half of September, I’ll be selecting my Top 15 favorite songs from The National. A band that has rarely let me down — both in the recording studio and in concert. #FaveArtistTop15

The last show I saw before the pandemic was The National at the Beacon. It wasn’t a typical show. This was a band that was already a few years into playing at arenas. But in an intimate theater setting, they introduced their new album I Am Easy to Find, paired with a short film by Mike Mills (not of REM fame). It felt more like a visit to an art museum than a rock concert. It wasn’t exactly my favorite National show because the band’s energy just wasn’t at the levels I was used to. But in the introspective and artistic rhythms of the night, the band showed a new flair for a quieter, softer aesthetic. And the highlight was “Light Years”.

This is not a song that The National could’ve possibly written and performed in their early years. There’s a maturity and a wisdom here that had to marinate with time. It’s a somber realization about how far two people can be pulled apart until there’s barely anything left. It’s a story that’s years, maybe decades, in the making. The piano part has no irony. No musical unexpectedness or other. Just a beautiful fragility that give ways to a sad, beautiful reality.

“I was always ten feet behind you from the start.”

"AFRAID OF EVERYONE" THE NATIONAL (2010)

For the first half of September, I’ll be selecting my Top 15 favorite songs from The National. A band that has rarely let me down — both in the recording studio and in concert. #FaveArtistTop15

Some songs have greater meaning during specific seasons in our lives. I believe my affinity for “Afraid of Everyone” wouldn’t have been what it is if it weren’t for the fact that High Violet was released the month my daughter was born. I have distinct memories singing along to “Anyone’s Ghost” and “Bloodbuzz Ohio” and her giggling along. But I also remember how “Afraid of Everyone” spoke to me, wrecked me and woke me up to the reality of the intense weight on our shoulders of raising up a child.

“Afraid of Everyone” was a sobering wake-up call for me. That line “I don’t have the drugs to sort it out” was especially poignant. On the flip side, the song was a clear reminder that my wife and I were not alone as newbie parents in feeling the fears, anxieties and excitement that we felt. A complex and beautiful mess of emotions. There was incredible comfort in that. The irony of it all was that by listening intently to the song, I felt that I was intently heard.

“With my kid on my shoulders I try not to hurt anybody I like. But I don't have the drugs to sort.”

"SQUALOR VICTORIA" THE NATIONAL (2007)

For the first half of September, I’ll be selecting my Top 15 favorite songs from The National. A band that has rarely let me down — both in the recording studio and in concert. #FaveArtistTop15

I’ve always been a rhythm guy. I love a well crafted bass line. The simple grooves. And the complex stuff, too. I appreciate an unexpected drum part. Intros. Solos. Fills. All of it. And, generally, when I listen to music, the rhythm section is usually flaunting itself in the foreground. I often notice their intricacies even before I know the lyrics or guitar parts played over the verses. So when I first heard “Squalor Victoria”, I was simply blown away.

Since their solo album, Bryan Devendorf’s drums have always been a standout element of The National. What I love about his percussion style is his knack for the simple. He makes it sound so good. Every drummer has made a name for him or herself in their own way. Neil Peart owned technique and complexity. Bonzo owned sheer power. What Devendorf has done is make simplicity a desirable thing. On “Squalor Victoria”, his drums are the hero, but he’s using a beat that sounds like the stuff of teenaged basement jams. It’s infectious and mesmerizing, especially in a live setting.

“Underline everything. I'm a professional in my beloved white shirt.”

"LEMONWORLD" THE NATIONAL (2010)

For the first half of September, I’ll be selecting my Top 15 favorite songs from The National. A band that has rarely let me down — both in the recording studio and in concert. #FaveArtistTop15

On the tour to promote High Violet, I caught The National at New York City’s Terminal 5, a relatively intimate setting that they would outgrow almost overnight. The band was real as always. They didn’t just play their songs, they shared the stories behind them. Aaron or Bryce (I still can’t tell them apart) mentioned one song, in particular, that gave them fits. His guilty admission was that the time signature was overly complex. It was hard for the band to stay in sync, to find their groove. That song was “Lemonworld”, and that night they played it nearly flawlessly.

One of the most distinct aspects of The National has always been the lyrics. No one else in rock & roll strings words together like Matt Berninger. It’s not far fetched to say that the band’s songs can be easily identified. just by reading the words without any music. This is the case with “Lemonworld”. Every syllable sung or hummed embodies the band’s storytelling approach on a bed of industrial guitar strums, tumbling tom rolls and high hat accents.

“Lay me on the table, put flowers in my mouth, and we can say that we invented a summer lovin' torture party.”

"ADA" THE NATIONAL (2007)

For the first half of September, I’ll be selecting my Top 15 favorite songs from The National. A band that has rarely let me down — both in the recording studio and in concert. #FaveArtistTop15

Five of my Top 15 favorite tracks from The National are from the Boxer album. It’s a testament to how good this album really is. What made Boxer particularly unique is that the songs go together exceptionally well as a unit, but they’re also more than strong enough to shine on their own. Some of the band’s best songs hail from Boxer, but one of my favorites has always been one of the least heralded tracks: “Ada”.

“Ada” flies under the radar because it starts off quiet and unassuming on an album with other songs that tend to grab your attention in their first few seconds. But the thing about it is it builds gradually with this intense, yet quiet kind of tenacity. The piano parts were recorded by guest collaborator and fellow Brooklynite Sufjan Stevens. It is one of the finest piano-driven tracks from The National — from the opening trills to the closing chords. But there’s also an orchestral element to “Ada” that adds a dark richness to the song with intermittent french horns and strings.

“Stand inside an empty tuxedo with grapes in my mouth, waiting for Ada.”