"SWEET SURRENDER" SARAH MCLACHLAN (1997)

Each day in November, I’m revisiting a song from the 90’s — a decade that was a sorta coming of age for me. In that span, I experienced high school, college and my time as a young single guy in New York City. It was a decade of ups and downs, and the music never stopped playing during that span. It was always there with me. #30DaysOf90sSongs

Many of Sarah McLachlan’s most well-known songs tend to fall on the slow side of the tempo spectrum, often verging on sleepy and dreamy, including “Adia”, “Angel” and “Ice Cream”. But there is a mid-tempo side that the world has noticed, and this is the pacing that I prefer the most when it comes to her work. It’s the tempo range where some of her greatest songs thrive: “Vox”, “Possession” and the subject of this post: “Sweet Surrender”.

I don’t have to think long and hard about why I love this song. It’s really just two things. The guitars and the vocals. First, the guitars. They weren’t these monster riffs or anything. But anyone who has heard “Sweet Surrender” a few times will remember that song opener and the ensuing sounds coming from the guitar for the remainder of the song. There was distortion, but the tones were beautiful and controlled, not unwieldy. The vocals, on the other hand, seemed to have a sense of liberation. McLachlan’s mezzo-soprano voice is strong and decisive throughout, even as she’s practically whispering sweet nothings at times in our ears. Other Sarah McLachlan songs seem to have earned a great reputation for their vocal performance. I just find it puzzling that “Sweet Surrender” never quite got the praise it deserved, too.

“The life I left behind me is a cold room.”

"EASE YOUR FEET IN THE SEA" BELLE & SEBASTIAN (1998)

Each day in November, I’m revisiting a song from the 90’s — a decade that was a sorta coming of age for me. In that span, I experienced high school, college and my time as a young single guy in New York City. It was a decade of ups and downs, and the music never stopped playing during that span. It was always there with me. #30DaysOf90sSongs

If I could step into a time machine to experience a heightened music experience, one of the stops I would make is Laurel Canyon in the 60’s. The notion of groundbreaking musicians going over to other groundbreaking musician’s homes to jam and write music together is much too hard to pass up. I would die to hear the Byrds, CSN&Y, Joni Mitchell and others on their lawns and in their living rooms. But without a time machine, I still have Belle & Sebastian. What I love most about their catalog is that throwback, 60’s Laurel Canyon vibe, which is all over The Boy With the Arab Strap and one of my favorite tracks from it: “Ease Your Feet in the Sea”.

Over the years, B&S has created a wonderful eccentric world filled with eccentric characters, like Lazy Line Painter Jane, Judy, Seymour Stein, Allie, Jill Pole and many others. But one of the most refreshing aspects of “Ease Your Feet in the Sea” is that it’s all about us. The carefree spirit of the song feels as if it’s guiding me to the shoreline with every listen. The song transports me there. The acoustic guitar nudges me along only to be given that final gentle push into the water by the dancing string arrangements.

“Take your shoes off, curl your toes. And I will frame this moment in time.”

"REGRET" NEW ORDER (1993)

Each day in November, I’m revisiting a song from the 90’s — a decade that was a sorta coming of age for me. In that span, I experienced high school, college and my time as a young single guy in New York City. It was a decade of ups and downs, and the music never stopped playing during that span. It was always there with me. #30DaysOf90sSongs

New Order was never Joy Division Lite, or Joy Division Part 2. It was just an entirely different entity, mainly because Ian Curtis’ persona loomed so large with JD that he was simply incomparable. But… as genius and as influential as Joy Division was, New Order was always the band that I connected with more between the two. Bernard Sumner’s vocals and lyrics were at my level. I think I understood him, but I couldn’t say the same for Ian. And while I believe New Order peaked in the late eighties, no other song from the band resonated with me more than the nineties hit “Regret”.

The track brings me back to the Summer of ‘93. I was home from college, spending my days working a crap internship and my nights hanging out with old high school friends. It was a great, great summer, and “Regret” was on full rotation on my go-to radio station WDRE. The big concert of the summer for us was New Order with 808 State at the old Brendan Byrne Arena in Jersey. The acoustics sucked, but the song still radiated. “Regret” contained one of Sumner’s more memorable guitar hooks with the band, which had these pregnant-like pauses built into them, which helped frame Hooky’s infectious bass lines that skittishly danced along the upper octaves. I think “Regret” is one of the last great New Order tracks.

“You used to be a stranger. Now you are mine.”

"CRAZY LIFE" TOAD THE WET SPROCKET (1995)

Each day in November, I’m revisiting a song from the 90’s — a decade that was a sorta coming of age for me. In that span, I experienced high school, college and my time as a young single guy in New York City. It was a decade of ups and downs, and the music never stopped playing during that span. It was always there with me. #30DaysOf90sSongs

When I first discovered the music of Toad the Wet Sprocket during college, I also met a very down-to-earth group of musicians. We were literally five feet away from the band in a near-empty Paradise Rock Club in Boston. They weren’t even the headliners. But, up until that point, they were the coolest, nicest guys I’d met in the music business. Pale and Fear were on heavy rotation in our dorm rooms, and eventually I discovered Dulcinea and this gem from the Empire Records soundtrack after graduation.

I played that album incessantly after college in my parent’s house. With those songs came fantasies of making it on my own and having an apartment in the city. This was the crazy life for me. Somehow it seemed to match the demeanor of the band. Laid back, and actually the furthest thing from crazy. Toad the Wet Sprocket is a down-to-earth, no-fanfare, mid-tempo band that’s probably more comfortable playing in pubs than arenas, although they got pretty big at one point. “Crazy Life”, to me, is the quintessential TTWS anthem. Jangly in its riffs, subtle in its harmonies and mid-tempo in its rhythm. I can put this song on repeat and forget about life for a while.

“Anyway now, it don't seem right. He is in there and you're on the outside.”

"LET DOWN" RADIOHEAD (1997)

Each day in November, I’m revisiting a song from the 90’s — a decade that was a sorta coming of age for me. In that span, I experienced high school, college and my time as a young single guy in New York City. It was a decade of ups and downs, and the music never stopped playing during that span. It was always there with me. #30DaysOf90sSongs

Fans and critics often refer to Kid A as being the most important Radiohead record. I think I’ve even heard some Beach Boys-like references to it, like it’s the Pet Sounds of the 90s or something like that. That may be true, but OK Computer will forever be the album that resonates with me the most. It’s the record that eases my mind and perks up my ears every time. I thought the songs were somehow totally unexpected, yet totally what I yearned to hear in this almost miraculous kind of way. There’s not a single pedestrian track on the LP, but one song has always stood above the rest for me: “Let Down”.

The thing that it did, that most songs don’t do, is bridge this gap between raw human experience and the celestial. It feels like it’s soaring somewhere in the stratosphere musically, but hitting too close to home and staying firmly grounded lyrically. Its chord progressions are unpredictable, creating an atmosphere to wallow in. While it’s certainly not a shoegaze anthem, “Let Down” did create a world for us to get lost in — the only difference with the aforementioned genre being that the sounds were incredibly precise and clear rather bleeding endlessly into each other.

“Crushed like a bug in the ground. Let down and hanging around.”

"ODE TO MY FAMILY" THE CRANBERRIES (1994)

Each day in November, I’m revisiting a song from the 90’s — a decade that was a sorta coming of age for me. In that span, I experienced high school, college and my time as a young single guy in New York City. It was a decade of ups and downs, and the music never stopped playing during that span. It was always there with me. #30DaysOf90sSongs

The great paradox of The Cranberries is this: While they seemed right at home in the 90’s alternative music scene, at the same time no one else sounded like them. Nobody. Then again, most rock singers don’t yodel. And most rock band’s can’t fluctuate with ease in a single album from apocalyptic bangers like “Zombie” to jangly strut fests like “Ridiculous Thoughts” to one of the most unrock & roll songs ever written and recorded by a rock band: “Ode To My Family”.

It might not even be my favorite Cranberries anthem, but “Ode To My Family” is undoubtedly one of the most endearing songs I’ve ever heard from any band or artist. It’s the antithesis of rock & roll — this was Dolores O’Riordan’s look back at simpler times before stardom and sold-out arenas. It’s unapologetically tame, not trying to be palatable for the masses. There is nothing exceptional about the guitar or bass lines. It’s all about O’Riordan’s lyrics and vocals delivering one of the most genuine musical expressions of the decade. The words say it all: “Does anyone care?”

“Understand what I've become. It wasn't my design. And people everywhere think something better than I am.”

"THE MAN WHO SOLD THE WORLD" NIRVANA (1993)

Each day in November, I’m revisiting a song from the 90’s — a decade that was a sorta coming of age for me. In that span, I experienced high school, college and my time as a young single guy in New York City. It was a decade of ups and downs, and the music never stopped playing during that span. It was always there with me. #30DaysOf90sSongs

It seems a little obvious to kick things off with Nirvana. They are, after all, the band most people think of when they look back at the 90’s music scene. Grunge will be forever associated with that decade. While many call Neil Young the godfather of grunge, and many critics point to other genres and bands like the Pixies for heavily influencing it, Nirvana seems to be the band most people think of first. Before Soundgarden. Before Pearl Jam. Before anyone else. At the MTV Unplugged set in New York, Nirvana created what I believe was their most unassumingly grunge song: their cover of Bowie’s “The Man Who Sold the World”.

This is probably my favorite Nirvana track. Most cover songs help you to look forward with new interpretations or perspectives. But Nirvana helped many of us look back. Frankly, many Bowie fans didn’t even know about the song or the album of the same name that it came from until Nirvana covered it. The band helped music fans to discover a darker side to Bowie. While unplugged, Nirvana found a way to make it a true grunge dirge. The dark undertones and misery are felt in Cobain’s vocals. But what really sealed it is when he ran his acoustic guitar through a device called a fuzz box, which had a way of making his axe sound electric and distorted. It was grunge to the core despite the acoustic setting. Sometimes I even forget it’s MTV Unplugged. Truly a brilliant cover.

“For years and years I roamed. I gazed a gazeless stare. We walked a million hills. I must have died alone a long, long time ago.”

"THE PROMISE" WHEN IN ROME (1987)

For the month of October, I’m selecting a song each day from the decade that has the most meaning to me: the 80s. It was the decade that I grew up in. The period of time where I discovered my love for music — and explored many different genres. For the next 31 days, I’ll highlight a handful of songs that I truly loved and that were representative of the decade. #31DaysOf80sSongs

Those who criticize synth pop have every right to dislke the genre. What you listen to is up to you. But those who criticize it because they say it’s soulless are misunderstood. Synthesizers are mere instruments, just like a piano or an electric guitar. They can be the heart of a song. Or the soul of a song. But often, it’s not their job to be those things. It’s really the melody and the lyrics that tell you if a song has heart or soul. If you don’t believe me, listen to When in Rome’s “The Promise” and get reacquainted with what synth pop can do to your spirits.

I first heard “The Promise” on my local alt rock station WDRE. But it wasn’t long that the Top 40 stations picked up on it. The reason why: It wasn’t about the synthesizers even though the entire song’s instrumentation is based on them. It was about the words and the way the melody expressed those words. I could easily sing along to it, not because it was an easy melody (that chorus makes quite an octave jump), but because it made me feel something. Whatever it was, I wanted to feel more of it.

“I'm sorry but I'm just thinking of the right words to say.”

"MERCY STREET" PETER GABRIEL (1986)

For the month of October, I’m selecting a song each day from the decade that has the most meaning to me: the 80s. It was the decade that I grew up in. The period of time where I discovered my love for music — and explored many different genres. For the next 31 days, I’ll highlight a handful of songs that I truly loved and that were representative of the decade. #31DaysOf80sSongs

It’s not lost on me that So still holds up as one of the greatest albums of the decade. It was a weird space. Here, Peter Gabriel, one of prog rock’s pioneers showed a more accessible side. He crossed over fully here. Yet, there isn’t anything watered down on the album. “Sledgehammer” and “Big Time” may have gotten all the airplay. “In Your Eyes” benefitted from one of the most iconic movie scenes of the 80’s. And “Don’t Give Up” is as powerful a duet as it gets. But back then, and even today, my favorite song on the album is still “Mercy Street”.

Every song on So makes you feel something. An emotion that you can easily identify in a lineup of other emotions. Every song was like that, except “Mercy Street”. It lived in ambiguity. There was this mysterious quality about it. I knew it was making me feel something, but I didn’t know what. All I knew is I couldn’t stop listening to it, even as I grew tired of the other tracks. Gabriel’s ominous vocals are joined along by several different instruments in “Mercy Street”. But the one element that carried the most weight was the unsuspecting and haunting triangle, with its steady, insistent clang.

“All of the buildings, all of the cars were once just a dream in somebody's head.”

"DO IT CLEAN" ECHO & THE BUNNYMEN (1980)

For the month of October, I’m selecting a song each day from the decade that has the most meaning to me: the 80s. It was the decade that I grew up in. The period of time where I discovered my love for music — and explored many different genres. For the next 31 days, I’ll highlight a handful of songs that I truly loved and that were representative of the decade. #31DaysOf80sSongs

I can’t write a series on the 80’s without highlighting the work of Echo & the Bunnymen. Admittedly, I never owned Crocodiles. But other albums provided me with enough exposure to be impressed with what these post punk lads brought to the table. Ocean Rain, their self-titled LP and, of course, Songs to Learn & Sing. All of these were required listening for all post punk enthusiasts, but the latter was my introduction to the Bunnymen. It was where I first discovered “Do It Clean”, several years after it was recorded.

People often mention The Doors when they talk about the sound of Echo & the Bunnymen. It might be one of the most intriguing musical influences in modern rock. It’s also what I love most about the band’s approach. That Doors influence is all over “Do It Clean”. Ian McCulloch sings with the swagger of Jim Morrison. And the sinister keyboard hook and guitar riff attack are reminiscent of Manzarek and Krieger. I would never want a band to try to be The Doors, because no one can ever recreate that moment in rock history. But Echo & the Bunnymen didn’t simply duplicate their predecessors. They turned down the blues and elevated the punk.

“Where am I going. Where have I been.”

"EVERYDAY I WRITE THE BOOK" ELVIS COSTELLO (1983)

For the month of October, I’m selecting a song each day from the decade that has the most meaning to me: the 80s. It was the decade that I grew up in. The period of time where I discovered my love for music — and explored many different genres. For the next 31 days, I’ll highlight a handful of songs that I truly loved and that were representative of the decade. #31DaysOf80sSongs

Elvis Costello is one of those artists that I can honestly say I never sought out proactively. I never counted down the days until his next album release nor have I been to a single show of his. But every once in a while when I hear his songs, the music grabs me with his distinct baritone voice and unique melodies. Songs like “Pump it Up”, “Alison” and “Watching the Detectives” were important steps in my journey as an avid music listener. And one of Costello’s most impressive and most memorable songs is “Everyday I Write the Book”.

It’s a song that he wrote in about ten minutes, which seems like a miracle when you think about the melody he created to go along with a highly creative song that draws a convincing parallel between romance and novels. The lyircs are, hands down, my favorite part of the song. But the next most distinct element, in my mind, are the backing vocals by Afrodisiac, featuring Caron Wheeler. The harmonies and background parts are golden, and give us a glimpse into Wheeler’s long, storied career as a stellar vocalist, from her work on Erasure’s “Chains of Love” to her work with Soul II Soul.

“All your compliments and your cutting remarks are captured here in my quotation marks.”

"RUNNING UP THAT HILL (A DEAL WITH GOD)" KATE BUSH (1985)

For the month of October, I’m selecting a song each day from the decade that has the most meaning to me: the 80s. It was the decade that I grew up in. The period of time where I discovered my love for music — and explored many different genres. For the next 31 days, I’ll highlight a handful of songs that I truly loved and that were representative of the decade. #31DaysOf80sSongs

Kate Bush’s popularity is a bit perplexing. Her records soared in Britain, but often flew under the radar in the States. Widely considered one of the most influential artists of our time, some say her work would’ve been more accepted had she arrived a decade later. This seems odd to me because influential artists thrive on arriving early to help pave new roads. It’s what the Pixies did for grunge — and decades before them Neil Young did the same. I’ve always thought what made Kate Bush so unique is that many of her songs seem to have a foot in the past, resurrecting old musical forms into something new, like “Babooskha”, “Army Dreamers” and “Cloudbusting”. At the same time, Bush has her other foot in the future on tracks like “The Dreaming”, “Suspended in Gaffa” and “Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God)”.

There’s a delicate beauty to much of Kate Bush’s catalog. But “Running Up That Hill” showed a brasher, more assertive side. On one level, we can simply enjoy the song’s most memorable elements like its echoey drum roll, its unusual synth hook off a Fairlight CMI and Bush’s powerful lyrics and vocals. On another level, the song’s impact on the future of music is something to behold. It’s because of Kate Bush songs like “Running Up That Hill” that we have artists like Tori Amos, St. Vincent, Bjork, Florence and countless others.

“Let me steal this moment from you now.”

"DAZZLE" SIOUXSIE & THE BANSHEES (1984)

For the month of October, I’m selecting a song each day from the decade that has the most meaning to me: the 80s. It was the decade that I grew up in. The period of time where I discovered my love for music — and explored many different genres. For the next 31 days, I’ll highlight a handful of songs that I truly loved and that were representative of the decade. #31DaysOf80sSongs

Siouxsie & the Banshees may be one of the most criminally underrated bands of all time. In fact, one of the most important bands of the post-punk era was inspired by them. That band, of course, is The Cure. Robert Smith’s stint w/Siouxie & the Banshees gave him a taste of everything he wanted in a band. It’s safe to say, without Siouxie there would be no Cure. The band excelled in recreating classics like “The Passenger” and “Dear Prudence” as well as crafting danceable tracks like “Peek-A-Boo”, “Happy House” and “Cities in Dust”. But they also had a flair for the epic, which is on full display in “Dazzle”.

“Dazzle” is majestic at times and sinister in other moments. It more closely resembles an orchestral movement than a rock song. What I love about “Dazzle” most is the turn from sweeping ballad to gothic explosion at the 1:17 mark. The track feels more like a black and white movie than a song, with the aforementioned explosion its car chase scene. “Dazzle” is a cinematic experience, doing what all great post-punk songs do — creating a scene where our minds can escape to over and over again.

“The stars that shine and the stars that shrink. In the face of stagnation the water runs before your eyes.”

"PLAY FOR TODAY" THE CURE (1980)

For the month of October, I’m selecting a song each day from the decade that has the most meaning to me: the 80s. It was the decade that I grew up in. The period of time where I discovered my love for music — and explored many different genres. For the next 31 days, I’ll highlight a handful of songs that I truly loved and that were representative of the decade. #31DaysOf80sSongs

I’ll never forget how Trent Reznor described The Cure at their Rock & Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony. He mentioned that the band managed to create a world for their fans to get lost in. I second that. Step into that world and you’re guaranteed to experience and feel things that you haven’t before. Step out of it and suddenly things feel banal. It’s hard for me to listen to other things after listening to a Cure album. Nothing else seems to measure up. One of the early tracks captures the unique musicality of the band. The song is called “Play For Today”.

The song is dark, brooding and urgent. Tolhurst is the one driving it. From the first snare hit, he almost sounds like the Joy Division-era of Stephen Morris. The guitar starts with those beautiful harmonics before falling into Smith’s characteristic strums. Gallup’s bass line is simple and moody, and everything I love about The Cure. It’s less ornate than the bass player before him. And Hartley’s synth just hums along in the background. “Play For Today” was a template for The Cure moving forward. It’s all about creating layers of simple, moody instrumentation. Never in excess. Always just enough.

“It's not a case of aiming to please. You know you're always crying. It's just your part in the play for today.”

"DRIVEN TO TEARS" THE POLICE (1980)

For the month of October, I’m selecting a song each day from the decade that has the most meaning to me: the 80s. It was the decade that I grew up in. The period of time where I discovered my love for music — and explored many different genres. For the next 31 days, I’ll highlight a handful of songs that I truly loved and that were representative of the decade. #31DaysOf80sSongs

There’s rock. There’s reggae. And then there’s The Police. No other band blended the two worlds together better than Sting, Summers and Copeland. They took all the best elements of both and bended them into these fantastic forms that were both extremely fun and extremely smart. While trios like Rush and Muse have made a name for themselves with the amount of sound they created from three guys, The Police made a name for themselves by working in space. A perfect example of this is “Driven to Tears”.

It may not be my favorite Police song (that distinction belongs to “Synchronicity II”), but “Driven to Tears” is a song that I have serious respect for structurally and stylistically. Along with reggae-infused sound, it seems to have a jazz mentality with its percussion style and emphasis on giving individual instruments their moment in the spotlight. Summers’ guitar solo at the 1:40 mark feels improvised and hardly on the nose. Copeland plays more like Max Roach than a traditional rock drummer with a heavy emphasis on the cymbals. And Sting wields note repetitions, arpeggios and space on his bass guitar. On “Driven to Tears”, the pregnant pauses further the song along as much as the notes do.

“My comfortable existence is reduced to a shallow meaningless party.”

"BEHIND THE WHEEL" DEPECHE MODE (1987)

For the month of October, I’m selecting a song each day from the decade that has the most meaning to me: the 80s. It was the decade that I grew up in. The period of time where I discovered my love for music — and explored many different genres. For the next 31 days, I’ll highlight a handful of songs that I truly loved and that were representative of the decade. #31DaysOf80sSongs

Let the naysayers believe what they will. But one of the greatest stretches of four consecutive studio albums belongs to the often misunderstood, often written-off Depeche Mode. Black Celebration, Music for the Masses, Violator and Songs of Faith and Devotion is the period where it all came together. A darker, edgier balance of endless hooks and eccentric treatises. I have a heart for all of those albums. But one song from Music for the Masses has always stood out to me: “Behind the Wheel”. Like most songs on the album, in defiance it wasn’t written for the masses at all.

Forget the innuendos. And set aside the “Route 66” medley version. When you examine the purity of its mood and instrumentation, few tracks defined the Depeche Mode sound better than the original album version of “Behind the Wheel”. It pulls you in not by being catchy. Rather it grabs you with this unexplainable darkness. Gore’s desolate guitar riffs were the fuel. Fletcher’s menacing keyboard bass line was the engine. Wilder’s eerie synth interludes, the driver. And Gahan’s ominous vocal delivery, the passenger. It was a case of the whole being far greater than the sum of its parts.

“You behind the wheel and me the passenger. Drive, I'm yours to keep.”

"FOOL'S GOLD" THE STONE ROSES (1989)

For the month of October, I’m selecting a song each day from the decade that has the most meaning to me: the 80s. It was the decade that I grew up in. The period of time where I discovered my love for music — and explored many different genres. For the next 31 days, I’ll highlight a handful of songs that I truly loved and that were representative of the decade. #31DaysOf80sSongs

The Stone Roses was one of those bands that made me want to be in a band myself. They didn’t last long, but for a couple of years, it seemed like they were almost larger than life. They paved new musical territory and are considered by many to be the catalysts of the Madchester scene. The debut album is one of my Top Ten albums of all time, and several of the songs are among some of my favorites. At the top of that list is the infectious “Fools Gold”.

Highly unusual, the album version of the song clocked in at nearly ten minutes. It was the last song on the debut album, serving as the coda to a brilliant record. It was all funk, all beats. While many rhythm sections do their thing in the background, Mani and Reni were often thrusted into the foreground — and “Fools Gold” was their song. The bass line cascades down and the trippy snare hits are relentless. John Squire adds the funk with his wah-wah effects while Ian Brown murmurs a story about the unlikely perils of searching for gold with friends. Every song on the band’s debut album seemed to be a brash statement — and on “Fools Gold” the band used the rhythm to deliver it.

“Sometimes you have to try to get along dear. I know the truth and I know what you're thinking.”

"HEAVEN" THE PSYCHEDELIC FURS (1984)

For the month of October, I’m selecting a song each day from the decade that has the most meaning to me: the 80s. It was the decade that I grew up in. The period of time where I discovered my love for music — and explored many different genres. For the next 31 days, I’ll highlight a handful of songs that I truly loved and that were representative of the decade. #31DaysOf80sSongs

So many new wave bands, so little time. Decades after the fact, I’m still sorting through which ones were the great ones, and which ones were simple just good. The Psychedelic Furs were one of the great ones. They didn’t sound like anyone else, because Richard Butler gave them a truly unique baritone voice that was rich and raspy. One note and they were instantly recognizable. Robert Smith once said Mirror Moves was one of his top five albums. On it, you could hear a sampling of some of the band’s best songs, including “The Ghost in You”, “Heartbeat” and my personal favorite: “Heaven”.

Like many of the singles over the course of the band’s career (“Pretty in Pink”, “Love My Way”, “Heartbreak Beat”), the hooks are simple here. The slo-mo guitar riff flirts playfully with the mid-tempo synth arpeggios. They form an instrumental bed to showcase Richard Butler’s iconic vocal performance. The melody was made for his voice. And his voice was made for the melody. In an age when many new wave bands sang with either a detached or robotic approach, Butler brought a unique style with his intensity and emotion. It was pure heaven.

“Heaven is the whole of our hearts.”

"I BEG YOUR PARDON" KON KAN (1988)

For the month of October, I’m selecting a song each day from the decade that has the most meaning to me: the 80s. It was the decade that I grew up in. The period of time where I discovered my love for music — and explored many different genres. For the next 31 days, I’ll highlight a handful of songs that I truly loved and that were representative of the decade. #31DaysOf80sSongs

The late 80s were an unusual moment in music history. New alt rock forms were birthed, including the beginnings of some of the most influential rock bands: Jane’s Addiction, Smashing Pumpkins, and the Pixies, just to name a few. The latter is often credited with igniting the grunge era. A little, unknown band called Radiohead also got its start during this time. But what made the late 80’s even more unusual was this really late resurgence of synth pop making its way onto the airwaves — through outfits like When in Rome, Anything Box and Kon Kan. “I Beg Your Pardon” is one of the beautiful by-products of this era.

Let’s be honest. This song was immediately addictive, but by the thousandth listen we were all just about ready to give it up. It starts with a phone ring, as if signaling it’s coming to us with an important message. But the message wasn’t important. “I Beg Your Pardon” was simply a fun, almost meaningless little fling. The beats and synth hooks sounded like a blend between Pet Shop Boys and Anything Box. But then it took samples and weaved them in effortlessly into the melody. At times it was hard to tell what was the sample and what was original. Decades later, “I Beg Your Pardon” hasn’t aged nearly quite as well as some of its synth pop peers, but it remains a prime example of pure, fun nostalgic pop.

“I know now's the time that I went to find something new. You know it's your crime that I'm out to find someone, too.”

"CEMETRY GATES" THE SMITHS (1986)

For the month of October, I’m selecting a song each day from the decade that has the most meaning to me: the 80s. It was the decade that I grew up in. The period of time where I discovered my love for music — and explored many different genres. For the next 31 days, I’ll highlight a handful of songs that I truly loved and that were representative of the decade. #31DaysOf80sSongs

When I first discovered The Smiths, The Queen is Dead had already been released for about three years. I was late to the party, but it didn’t take long for me to absorb those songs into my brain. I played it nonstop. It’s probably one of my top ten favorite albums of all time. The Queen is Dead rocked with “Bigmouth Strikes Again” and the title track. It mastered mid-tempo with “The Boy With the Thorn in His Side”, “Some Girls are Bigger Than Others” and “Frankly Mr. Shankly”. It wallowed with “I Know It’s Over” and “Never Had No One Ever”. It elevated with “There is a Light That Never Goes Out”. And then there’s “Cemetry Gates”, arguably the quintessential Smiths song.

The song was built on the foundational paradox of The Smiths — this oddball and strangely irresistible juxtaposition between Marr’s bright and cheery riffs and Morrissey’s morbid lyrics. “Cemetry Gates” felt like the ultimate example of this pairing. Marr’s jangle-infused guitar playing netted a riff that lifted Morrissey’s vocals into a frolic through the graveyard. Inspired by a visit to a cemetery in Manchester, Morrissey wrote the song as a reaction to plagiarism. But more than that, “Cemetry Gates” allowed Morrissey to wear sadness, insecurity and bitterness on his sleeve — and do so with a little humor.