"10:15 SATURDAY NIGHT" THE CURE (1979)

The decade in which I was born has given me a strange perspective on its music. I discovered pretty much all of the 70’s sounds – from prog rock to punk to disco – well after they came into the world. It wasn’t until the late 80’s that I discovered what I was missing. I would characterize the decade as one where budding genres leaped off their inspiration pads and came to fruition. For the month of February, Mental Jukebox will feature some of these gems with a different 70’s song each day. #28DaysOf70sSongs

The Cure cannon is a treasure trove of jams, bangers, dirges and moments of pure ecstasy. Songs like “Killing an Arab”, “Boys Don’t Cry”, “A Forest”, “Inbetween Days”, “Just Like Heaven”, “Lovesong” and “Friday I’m in Love” all played pivotal roles in the evolution of the band. You could make the argument for any of those songs to be the most important Cure song. As much as I detest “Friday I’m in Love”, it did introduce a wider audience to this incredible band. However, the song that maybe holds the most significance may not be any of those classics. It might just be “10:15 Saturday Night”, the song that got the attention of a record label executive and led to the band’s signing.

Robert Smith wrote the song one night when he was bored. I love the irony of a dull situation inspiring something far greater. "10:15 Saturday Night” started off as a b-side, but eventually became a single in some markets. Thing is, it’s very un-single in its composition. It’s not very accessible or catchy at all. It feels less like a song and more like a mood piece, using space and volume changes to evoke a series of emotions. A Saturday night might seem so trivial, yet Smith made us feel the gravity of those nights when you’re waiting for something, anything to happen.

“Waiting for the telephone to ring. And I'm wondering where she's been. And I'm crying for yesterday. And the tap drips. Drip drip drip drip drip drip drip drip.”

"PANIC IN DETROIT" DAVID BOWIE (1973)

The decade in which I was born has given me a strange perspective on its music. I discovered pretty much all of the 70’s sounds – from prog rock to punk to disco – well after they came into the world. It wasn’t until the late 80’s that I discovered what I was missing. I would characterize the decade as one where budding genres leaped off their inspiration pads and came to fruition. For the month of February, Mental Jukebox will feature some of these gems with a different 70’s song each day. #28DaysOf70sSongs

I’m a Ziggy Stardust guy all the way. As prolific as Bowie was in the 70s, it’s the only album of his that I truly enjoy from beginning to end. But my next favorite album is probably Aladdin Sane. It’s glammy at times. But it also rocks pretty hard at other times. Most Bowie albums have a couple of songs that outshine the others, but there was a consistency about Aladdin Sane that was unmatched by his other records. Still, I’m most drawn to the hard-edged “Panic in Detroit”.

It all starts with the guitar work. Widely considered one of the best session players of all time, Mick Ronson shined here. “Panic in Detroit” is considered essential listening for Ronson enthusiasts. His guitar solo starts at the 3:15 mark and captures the imagination of the Detroit riots that inspired the song. At one point, the solo evokes the rise of smoke and flames. At another, it sounds like a symphony of sirens. The backing vocals are fierce, like chants in the uprising. The percussion lays down a steady, insistent drum roll and congas that make it feel like the panic will never end. And then there’s Bowie. Being cool, just being Bowie.

“He looked a lot like Che Guevara. Drove a diesel van. Kept his gun in quiet seclusion. Such a humble man.”

"PLACE TO BE" NICK DRAKE (1972)

The decade in which I was born has given me a strange perspective on its music. I discovered pretty much all of the 70’s sounds – from prog rock to punk to disco – well after they came into the world. It wasn’t until the late 80’s that I discovered what I was missing. I would characterize the decade as one where budding genres leaped off their inspiration pads and came to fruition. For the month of February, Mental Jukebox will feature some of these gems with a different 70’s song each day. #28DaysOf70sSongs

Pink Moon was the third and final studio album from Nick Drake. His life vanished before most fans even had a chance to know his music. But his legacy has certainly lived on, and Drake has become somewhat larger than life several decades later. His music is appreciated more these days, but it also resonates more. His brand of folk was quite different from the Simon & Garfunkels and JTs of his era. But one could argue his version of the genre and his musical vision has had the most staying power. No better example of this than “Place To Be”.

Like the rest of the Pink Moon album, “Place To Be” is Nick Drake and no one else. He sings, he strums. It’s incredibly bare, like a friend playing a song for you in your living room. Much has been said about Drake’s bout with depression and his suicide. Pink Moon was released two months before his death, which adds a gravity to “Place To Be”. These were some of his last words and thoughts. It’s a melancholic treatise where Drake’s acoustic guitar strums are like logs in the fire and his vocals are like embers floating away in the dark, dark sky.

“And I was green, greener than the hill where flowers grew and the sun shone still. Now I'm darker than the deepest sea. Just hand me down, give me a place to be.”

"LESSONS" RUSH (2112)

The decade in which I was born has given me a strange perspective on its music. I discovered pretty much all of the 70’s sounds – from prog rock to punk to disco – well after they came into the world. It wasn’t until the late 80’s that I discovered what I was missing. I would characterize the decade as one where budding genres leaped off their inspiration pads and came to fruition. For the month of February, Mental Jukebox will feature some of these gems with a different 70’s song each day. #28DaysOf70sSongs

Rush is one of the most polarizing bands of all time. They have some of the most loyal fans. They also have some of the biggest naysayers. The naysayers say Geddy’s voice is atrocious. The lyrics don’t belong in rock music. Too much technique, not enough soul. While I’ve sometimes had these same gripes, it hasn’t stopped me from admiring this band. I adore this band. My brother and I got our first taste of Rush by borrowing cassettes at the town library. We heard Signals, Moving Pictures, Exit… Stage Left, Permanent Waves and Grace Under Pressure. And we were hooked. But no album was more addicting than 2112. A concept album that expanded my imagination and rocked hard all at once. One of the least heralded songs from that record is “Lessons”.

The funny thing about Geddy’s voice is his unusually high notes are pushed to the max on this song, yet it isn’t overblown. It feels like his vocal demeanor hits its sweet spot on “Lessons” more so than most songs. This is a true rock & roll song that would garner more interest in Rush if rock fans gave it a listen. “Lessons” has always been overshadowed by the mainstream’s limited view of Rush: “YYZ”, “Tom Sawyer”, “Spirit of Radio”, “Limelight” and the like. But, it’s the song that reminds me why I love Rush so much. Lee, Peart and Lifeson all have their moments here – there are some nice drum fills, guitar hooks and bass lines in there, but the three friends are totally locked in and in sync.

“Sweet memories. Flashing very quickly by. Reminding me and giving me a reason why.”

"ALISON" ELVIS COSTELLO (1977)

The decade in which I was born has given me a strange perspective on its music. I discovered pretty much all of the 70’s sounds – from prog rock to punk to disco – well after they came into the world. It wasn’t until the late 80’s that I discovered what I was missing. I would characterize the decade as one where budding genres leaped off their inspiration pads and came to fruition. For the month of February, Mental Jukebox will feature some of these gems with a different 70’s song each day. #28DaysOf70sSongs

The rise of an artist’s most celebrated music can be a fascinating thing. Chart success is just part of the story. More airplay = more exposure. But some artists’ most well-known songs are ones that never charted, while lesser celebrated songs had their commercial success. One example of the latter is The Cure’s “Friday I’m In Love”. As a Cure fan, I can attest to the fact that the hit is one of the band’s worst songs. There are at least 40-50 other songs that are better than it, including “Plainsong” a non-single anthem. Elvis Costello has a similar thing going on. While the more successful “Veronica” and “Everyday I Write The Book” aren’t bad songs, his finest song is arguably “Alison”, the non-charting single from his debut album My Aim Is True.

“Did he leave your pretty fingers lying in the wedding cake?” The lyrics were absolutely genius. We don’t know the full story, but we are absolutely intrigued about this Alison from the very first verse. Costello has said it’s a song about a woman in a supermarket. Could it be that Alison is a figurative example of that stranger in the supermarket? Not just a stranger, but a person with all these complex things going on in her life. Searching for love in all the wrong places. Involved with the wrong person. Admired by someone who’s head over heels for her. The instrumentation is simple. The story is complicated. The melody is beautiful. My favorite Elvis Costello song didn’t climb charts, but it has climbed inside the hearts of many fans and found a safe place there.

“I'm not gonna get too sentimental like those other sticky valentines. 'Cause I don't know if you are loving somebody. I only know it isn't mine.”

"AS" STEVIE WONDER (1976)

The decade in which I was born has given me a strange perspective on its music. I discovered pretty much all of the 70’s sounds – from prog rock to punk to disco – well after they came into the world. It wasn’t until the late 80’s that I discovered what I was missing. I would characterize the decade as one where budding genres leaped off their inspiration pads and came to fruition. For the month of February, Mental Jukebox will feature some of these gems with a different 70’s song each day. #28DaysOf70sSongs

Songs In The Key of Life is such an appropriate title for one of the most ambitious and extraordinary albums of the 70’s. Its 21-song track listing tackles all kinds themes, including love, childhood and social injustice. It varies tempos, from mid-tempo to ballad pacing to frenetic. And, most noticeably, it spans a wide range of genres, from pop to soul to R&B to jazz. It truly showcases Stevie Wonder’s versatility as a songwriter, arranger, performer and producer. It seems like an impossible task to single out one track from Songs In The Key Of Life. So maybe today I’ll go with “As” and revisit more of the album’s treasures in a future Mental Jukebox write-up.

“As” is not only the title of the song. It’s the first word of the song as well. It’s a musical manifesto of unconditional love. It’s not clear who’s the narrator and who’s the beloved – is this a statement between two lovers? Between the Creator and the creation? Between the artist and the audience? The interpretation doesn’t really matter. What does matter is the sheer audacity of this unconditional love in a world predicated on conditions. “As” is a reminder of not what was, but what could be. In the key of life, it’s that C note on the highest octave.

“Until we dream of life and life becomes a dream. Be loving you.”

"JOLENE" DOLLY PARTON (1974)

The decade in which I was born has given me a strange perspective on its music. I discovered pretty much all of the 70’s sounds – from prog rock to punk to disco – well after they came into the world. It wasn’t until the late 80’s that I discovered what I was missing. I would characterize the decade as one where budding genres leaped off their inspiration pads and came to fruition. For the month of February, Mental Jukebox will feature some of these gems with a different 70’s song each day. #28DaysOf70sSongs

You couldn’t grow up in the 80s without hearing the Dolly Parton jokes outside at recess and in the backs of school buses. What a shame though, because it colored the way I saw her musically. I wrote off the music even before I heard a single note. It’s why it took me so damn long to see that she made a masterpiece back in 1974. There are many great songs on this album. Songs that others have made their own. But “Jolene” will always be hers. Not Whitney Houston’s or anyone else’s.

There’s an attitude here that we don’t often associate with country music. The desperate plea to Jolene is held together tightly by a killer guitar riff, a gorgeous string arrangement and an emotionally charged performance from Dolly. The vocals are absolutely superb. I recently saw a live performance Dolly gave at Glastonbury in 2013 where she sounds just as sharp and brilliant as her original studio recording. The youngish crowd is singing along. The security guards are dancing along. The band is having the time of their lives. And absolutely everyone at the venue is wrapped up in the moment. That’s a power most songs just don’t possess.

“Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene. I'm begging of you, please don't take my man. Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, please don't take him just because you can.”

"LOST IN THE SUPERMARKET" THE CLASH (1979)

The decade in which I was born has given me a strange perspective on its music. I discovered pretty much all of the 70’s sounds – from prog rock to punk to disco – well after they came into the world. It wasn’t until the late 80’s that I discovered what I was missing. I would characterize the decade as one where budding genres leaped off their inspiration pads and came to fruition. For the month of February, Mental Jukebox will feature some of these gems with a different 70’s song each day. #28DaysOf70sSongs

Many of the most legendary recordings in music got their legendary status from the strength of their cohesive sound. The ability to make the whole and the individual parts work equally well is no easy feat. Well, that isn’t London Calling. As legendary as it is, the album veers into various rabbit holes, exploring multiple sounds and genres. It’s a true mish-mosh. It’s exceptional, but it’s still a mish-mosh. Eight tracks in, we come up on a song that doesn’t even sound anything like The Clash. It’s the beautifully addictive “Lost in the Supermarket”.

What’s going on here? Is that a disco rhythm we hear? This isn’t the anti-establishment, Brit punk outfit we know and love. Instead, “Lost in the Supermarket” showcases a band that’s going beyond its comfort zone, stretching itself musically. My favorite track off London Calling, Track 8 is a wry commentary on suburban alienation. The lyrics and the way that they are sung are unforgettable. It may not sound anything like a punk rock song, but therein lies its punk rock essence. The refusal to simply follow suit.

“I'm all lost in the supermarket. I can no longer shop happily. I came in here for that special offer. A guaranteed personality.”

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

The decade in which I was born has given me a strange perspective on its music. I discovered pretty much all of the 70’s sounds – from prog rock to punk to disco – well after they came into the world. It wasn’t until the late 80’s that I discovered what I was missing. I would characterize the decade as one where budding genres leaped off their inspiration pads and came to fruition. For the month of February, Mental Jukebox will feature some of these gems with a different 70’s song each day. #28DaysOf70sSongs

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.

“Confusion in her eyes that says it all. She's lost control.”

"WHEN THE LEVEE BREAKS" LED ZEPPELIN (1971)

The decade in which I was born has given me a strange perspective on its music. I discovered pretty much all of the 70’s sounds – from prog rock to punk to disco – well after they came into the world. It wasn’t until the late 80’s that I discovered what I was missing. I would characterize the decade as one where budding genres leaped off their inspiration pads and came to fruition. For the month of February, Mental Jukebox will feature some of these gems with a different 70’s song each day. #28DaysOf70sSongs

My Led Zeppelin IV cassette in 9th grade was a defining album for my budding interest in classic rock. I assumed I was in for just the hard stuff and would be comfortably flanked by Robert Plant’s howl and Jimmy Page’s hard-edged riffs. But IV took me my ears on a bender from the opening verse to “Black Dog” to the final guitar riff in “When The Levee Breaks”. The album fuses folk elements, straight ahead rock, early heavy metal elements and a heavy dose of blues. And it’s the blues that makes “When The Levee Breaks” one of the greatest tracks on the album.

Plant’s harmonica and Page’s guitar riff seemed attached at the hip, playing along the same octave. “When The Levee Breaks”, by name, was overshadowed by monster Zeppelin hits like “Stairway to Heaven”, “Black Dog”, “Rock and Roll” and “Going to California”. But I think it surpassed all the aforementioned classics. Those songs mastered epic riffs. They really relied on Page and Plant mostly. But “When The Levee Breaks” mastered hard rock blues more than any other Zeppelin song I can think of. It took the whole band to give it their all – and I count the song as one of Bonzo’s best and biggest barrages on the drum set.

“Mean old levee taught me to weep and moan.”

"SO FAR AWAY" CAROLE KING (1971)

The decade in which I was born has given me a strange perspective on its music. I discovered pretty much all of the 70’s sounds – from prog rock to punk to disco – well after they came into the world. It wasn’t until the late 80’s that I discovered what I was missing. I would characterize the decade as one where budding genres leaped off their inspiration pads and came to fruition. For the month of February, Mental Jukebox will feature some of these gems with a different 70’s song each day. #28DaysOf70sSongs

There’s a category of music that I like to think of as “greater later” tunes. These artists and albums are less desirable to us early on. Some might even be repulsive. But later in life, we have a change in perspective. The songs we once dismissed become the ones we embrace. As an 80’s kid, Carole King’s songs were still making their rounds throughout my life. I don’t know the first time I heard Tapestry, but its songs have always been lurking – on tv shows, in doctor’s offices, on Lite FM. I thought it was old people music. Well, now I must be old because I think Tapestry is a masterpiece. It’s the great American songbook, stacked from top to bottom with unforgettable songs like “So Far Away”.

Why the change in heart? I think I’ve come to recognize how hard it is to write a really good song. There’s so much meaningless trash out there and so few songs that have an earnestness to them. I don’t just mean the earnestness of the lyrics. I’m referring to everything about the song. The way it’s sung. The way it’s played. This is the beauty of Tapestry and “So Far Away”. It’s one of the most honest expressions about the isolation of being on the road and apart from the person that matters most. “So Far Away” is a song from a pop star perspective that’s just as relatable to the average person.

“I sure hope the road don't come to own me.”

"EVER FALLEN IN LOVE" BUZZCOCKS (1978)

The decade in which I was born has given me a strange perspective on its music. I discovered pretty much all of the 70’s sounds – from prog rock to punk to disco – well after they came into the world. It wasn’t until the late 80’s that I discovered what I was missing. I would characterize the decade as one where budding genres leaped off their inspiration pads and came to fruition. For the month of February, Mental Jukebox will feature some of these gems with a different 70’s song each day. #28DaysOf70sSongs

The definitions of punk rock haven’t always done the genre much justice. These descriptions usually start with the simplistic structures. Three chords typically. Lots of repetition. Often you’re in and out within two minutes. Punk rock also gets pigeonholed when it comes to lyrical themes. It’s a genre that’s anti-establishment with a rebellion declared against anybody and anything – from the government to your parents. Well, the Buzzcocks are a part of the genre, but they don’t fit any of these descriptions. They took the veneer of punk rock – and made it their own with the classic anthem “Ever Fallen In Love (With Someone You Shouldn’t’ve)”.

Here’s the thing about punk rock. The assumption is that the message pushes some people away and, in doing so, the music draws others in. But that’s not the case with “Ever Fallen In Love”. The song is about as real and empathetic as it gets. Pete Shelley wrote something that struck a chord with almost anybody. An awful realization that most of us have encountered at some point in our lives - whether as teenagers or as full-fledged adults. The verses are as iconic as the chorus. The narrative is as simple as love. Which, turns out, is quite a complicated thing.

“And if I start a commotion, I'll only end up losing you and that's worse.”

"MIAMI 2017" BILLY JOEL (1976)

The decade in which I was born has given me a strange perspective on its music. I discovered pretty much all of the 70’s sounds – from prog rock to punk to disco – well after they came into the world. It wasn’t until the late 80’s that I discovered what I was missing. I would characterize the decade as one where budding genres leaped off their inspiration pads and came to fruition. For the month of February, Mental Jukebox will feature some of these gems with a different 70’s song each day. #28DaysOf70sSongs

As a New Yorker, the music of Billy Joel has always resonated with me on a deeper level than with the average casual fan. My first show was a Billy Joel concert at Giants Stadium. An Innocent Man, The Bridge and Storm Front were the albums of my youth, but my favorite album from the Piano Man is Turnstiles. It is a quintessential New York album. A record that signals Joel’s return to New York after his time in Hollywood. Several songs reference New York, including the apocalyptic masterpiece “Miami 2017 (I’ve Seen The Lights Go Out On Broadway)”.

It might be my favorite Billy Joel song because even as it portrayed the downfall of New York City, it seemed to celebrate it with a sense of pride and nostalgia that can’t be fathomed with any other city. The song is narrated by a grandfather telling his grandchildren about the fictitious fall of NYC in the 70’s as he sits in his retirement home in Miami some forty years later. “Miami 2017” did something very few art forms are able to accomplish. It used a fictitious story to remind us of the things in reality that we really love and the things we might even die for.

“They sent a carrier out from Norfolk. And picked the Yankees up for free. They said that Queens could stay. They blew the Bronx away. And sank Manhattan out at sea.”

"PULLED UP" TALKING HEADS (1977)

The decade in which I was born has given me a strange perspective on its music. I discovered pretty much all of the 70’s sounds – from prog rock to punk to disco – well after they came into the world. It wasn’t until the late 80’s that I discovered what I was missing. I would characterize the decade as one where budding genres leaped off their inspiration pads and came to fruition. For the month of February, Mental Jukebox will feature some of these gems with a different 70’s song each day. #28DaysOf70sSongs

I recently saw David Byrne’s American Utopia, a brilliant show that combined a series of essays that allowed Byrne to truly connect with us in an honest, simple way. In between these treatises on the human condition was essentially a mini Talking Heads concert. I was in heaven. The show was a testament of two things: the resiliency of the band’s music after more than 30 years and the unique, yet highly relatable perspective of David Byrne. One of the longstanding testaments of this is their debut album’s closing track, “Pulled Up”.

Most of the songs on that record were overshadowed by the Talking Heads menacing anthem “Psycho Killer”. But to overlook “Pulled Up” would be a bad mistake. The song is one of the early blueprints of new wave. The instrumentation and demeanor was unlike anything else out there. Like on several other Talking Heads songs, Byrne’s paradoxical tendencies are on full display, most notably in the chorus. He seems simultaneously out of control and in control. He’s not just singing lyrics, those are emotions and expressions coming out of his mouth. Musically, we get a taste of the unique, boisterous bass playing of Tina Weymouth in lock step with boyfriend Chris Frantz’s ready-steady drum style and Harrison’s guitar riffs that cascade like little electric currents inside our brains.

“I drift away to another land. Sleeping dreaming such a simple thing. I think of things that I might be. I see my name go down in history.”

"BRAIN DAMAGE" PINK FLOYD (1973)

The decade in which I was born has given me a strange perspective on its music. I discovered pretty much all of the 70’s sounds – from prog rock to punk to disco – well after they came into the world. It wasn’t until the late 80’s that I discovered what I was missing. I would characterize the decade as one where budding genres leaped off their inspiration pads and came to fruition. For the month of February, Mental Jukebox will feature some of these gems with a different 70’s song each day. #28DaysOf70sSongs

There’s not much left to be said about The Dark Side of the Moon that hasn’t already been said. Critics and fans adore it and consider it one of the most groundbreaking albums of all time. There’s also a minority that considers it an overrated album that doesn’t deserve the attention it has garnered. The Dark Side of the Moon hung in the balance between classic, straight-ahead rock and progressive rock. It was the bridge for many music listeners into prog rock forms. It was a stoner’s album. Its album cover was iconic – a perfect image for a t-shirt or bedroom poster. It was all of these things. But, for me, there was one more thing about it. When I first heard the album and the song “Brain Damage”, they were like markers in my music discovery. There was no turning back.

While “Money”, “Time” and “Us and Them” were easy for me to digest, there was something different about “Brain Damage”. It was slightly uncomfortable to listen to and utterly irresistible at the same time. Waters lamented “The lunatic is in my head”. When I heard those words for the first time as a teenager, I felt like I somehow understood what he was talking about. I felt like I knew the lunatic even if if I couldn’t name it. The instrumentation is characterized by a quiet-loud-quiet dynamic, a four-part backing vocal troupe and Gilmour’s languid, mindless guitar playing. But the most recognizable element is the sinister laugh track. Play it a couple of times and it becomes implanted in your head.

“And if the band you're in starts playing different tunes, I'll see you on the dark side of the moon.”

"FOR WHAT IT'S WORTH" BUFFALO SPRINGFIELD (1966)

For the month of January, I’m selecting some of the most memorable and influential songs of the 60’s. While they all hail from the same decade, these are some of my favorite songs of any era. They remind me that the 60’s were so much more than just Woodstock and psychedelic rock. It was a flourishing period for blues, folk, progressive and straight-ahead rock. #31DaysOf60sSongs

On the last day of #31DaysOf60sSongs, I’m reminded of how many great genres, movements, bands, recordings and songs came to fruition during this decade. Arguably it was the single greatest decade of music ever in the modern era. There are songs that exemplify the era. Songs that paved the way to new expressions and genres. And then there are a small handful of songs that helped define the era itself. One of those songs is the iconic “For What It’s Worth”, as monumental as the band lineup itself.

“For What It’s Worth” is a protest song. A countercultural anthem. It is the quintessential 60’s tune. The melody and instrumentation are instantly recognizable from the opening guitar harmonics that quietly appear to the sing-songy chorus. That’s not all though. it has risen above its era to take on a life of its own. “For What It’s Worth” is now part of pop culture – from the Forrest Gump soundtrack to an episode of The Muppets to a sample on a Public Enemy song.

“Paranoia strikes deep. Into your life it will creep. It starts when you're always afraid. Step out of line, the man come and take you away.”

"LAISSE TOMBER LES FILLES" FRANCE GALL (1964)

For the month of January, I’m selecting some of the most memorable and influential songs of the 60’s. While they all hail from the same decade, these are some of my favorite songs of any era. They remind me that the 60’s were so much more than just Woodstock and psychedelic rock. It was a flourishing period for blues, folk, progressive and straight-ahead rock. #31DaysOf60sSongs

It’s interesting which songs resonate with our kids, and which ones don’t. My own children have shown interest in songs from a variety of artists, including Rush, Duran Duran and Keane. But there are just as many songs that they detest. They seem to be drawn to great melodies and lyrics that are easy to understand. They’re turned off by more experimental instrumentation. And certain songs can outright annoy them, like “Laisse Tomber Les Filles”.

“Can you stop playing that annoying song? Let’s listen to something else,” said my 11-year old daughter when she first heard this France Gall classic. The song actually mirrors some of my daughter’s own spunk, but she had no idea as the entire song is sung in French. “Laisse Tomber Les Filles” is a flashback to a rebellious, carefree era. The ye-ye musicality feels like it has one foot in jazz and the other in pop. The brass flourishes flirt with our ears, while the playful percussion is stalwart in its goofiness.

“Laisse tomber les filles. Laisse tomber les filles. Un jour c'est toi qu'on laissera.”

"GLORIA" THEM (1965)

For the month of January, I’m selecting some of the most memorable and influential songs of the 60’s. While they all hail from the same decade, these are some of my favorite songs of any era. They remind me that the 60’s were so much more than just Woodstock and psychedelic rock. It was a flourishing period for blues, folk, progressive and straight-ahead rock. #31DaysOf60sSongs

I was never part of a real band, but there were a few afternoons in high school when a few friends of mine and I had a small taste of it. We huddled into our friend’s basement where we had a couple of amps, guitars, a drum set, keyboard and a mic set up. It was our playground. “Gloria” gave us the satisfaction of knowing we could play a song from beginning to end. Only one of us was musically trained. Our drummer could barely keep a beat. But all of us were crazy about music. We had a lot of fun together. We felt like rock stars for a couple of hours. And we played “Gloria”.

Three chords. One hard rocking number from the annals of rock & roll. With Van Morrison on lead vocals and songwriting duties, Them put together a garage rock classic that had that rhythm and blues groove, that distorted, raw edge, and Van Morrison soul. Like many of the great songs from the 60’s, “Gloria” was a b-side. The single “Baby, Please Don’t Go” wasn’t too shabby either. But it wasn’t a Them original. This made “Gloria” more important in many ways. While The Velvet Underground may get credit for getting countless listeners to start their own band, “Gloria” made it possible for many of them to actually play. E - D - A - E - D - A, etc.

“G-L-O-R-I-A, Gloria. I'm gonna shout it all night.”

"CANTALOUPE ISLAND" HERBIE HANCOCK (1964)

For the month of January, I’m selecting some of the most memorable and influential songs of the 60’s. While they all hail from the same decade, these are some of my favorite songs of any era. They remind me that the 60’s were so much more than just Woodstock and psychedelic rock. It was a flourishing period for blues, folk, progressive and straight-ahead rock. #31DaysOf60sSongs

I have friends who are able to effortlessly articulate their love for jazz and the intricacies and perspectives that different artists bring to the genre and all its variations. I also have friends who haven’t been truly indoctrinated beyond the obvious Kind of Blue / Love Supreme brand of jazz. These casual fans know what they love, but may not necessarily know why. I’m one of the latter. I don’t always understand why I like certain recordings, let alone have the ability to put it into words. Nonetheless I can’t ignore the huge amount of jazz contributions that happened during this decade, including the work of four jazz legends from the Miles Davis Quintet on “Cantaloupe Island”.

This is a Herbie Hancock composition with his legendary piano hook front and center. You don’t need to be an aficionado to know it, appreciate it and be hooked by it. Hancock’s steady groove on piano is an instantly recognizable element. But it’s not even the main course. It’s the bed and Freddie Hubbard’s buoyant cornet solo is like an ecstatic child jumping up and down on it like it’s a trampoline. Thirty years later, apparently Us3 felt the same way, using Hancock’s masterpiece as the launchpad for a hip-hop rewrite in “Cantaloop (Flip Fantasia)”.

"WHITE RABBIT" JEFFERSON AIRPLANE (1967)

For the month of January, I’m selecting some of the most memorable and influential songs of the 60’s. While they all hail from the same decade, these are some of my favorite songs of any era. They remind me that the 60’s were so much more than just Woodstock and psychedelic rock. It was a flourishing period for blues, folk, progressive and straight-ahead rock. #31DaysOf60sSongs

My experience with music from the 60’s is complicated. Born in the decade that followed, my exposure to 60’s music didn’t really happen until I reached high school. It started where most teenagers get their classic rock kicks: Beatles, Zeppelin, Hendrix. I still love all of those artists, but now that I’m in my 40’s I find myself appreciating bands and musicians that I just didn’t have an attraction to back in my high school years. This includes Leonard Cohen, Nico, Nick Drake and Jefferson Airplane. Of the latter, my favorite song by far is “White Rabbit”.

A reimagination of Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, “White Rabbit” is a trip. It brings the classic story to life in a psychedelic twist probably created with the aid of mind-expanding substances. It goes down a rabbit hole of Spanish-influenced rhythms and guitar playing. Grace Slick once said that the song was heavily influenced by Miles Davis’ Sketches of Spain album, which you can hear most clearly in the instrumentation, but also in the melody as well. “White Rabbit” is a wild blend of cultures and mediums with an adult’s liberating interpretation of a childhood tale.

“And if you go chasing rabbits and you know you're going to fall. Tell 'em a hookah-smoking caterpillar has given you the call. Call Alice when she was just small.”