"FOLLOW YOU FOLLOW ME" GENESIS (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 departure of Peter Gabriel from Genesis was a significant turning point in the band’s history. Both Gabriel and the continuing members have even wrote about the split in their music. “Solsbury Hill” is a reflection on Gabriel’s bittersweet departure the band, and the name of the Genesis album following his exit is …And Then There Were Three…. While the original Genesis lineup was a huge prog rock force to be reckoned with, I love Peter Gabriel’s solo work and the new era of Genesis much more. I understand the intent was to really push the progressive limits of the music, but, in my opinion, the original lineup took it too far. I can name at least 30 Peter Gabriel solo songs and at least 20 new-era Genesis tracks that I like much more than “Carpet Crawlers”. By narrowing down to three members, I think Genesis’ sound was simplified for the better, starting with the classic anthem and musical turning point “Follow You Follow Me”.

For me, the big change on the album was the flow of the music. It felt much more natural, less forced. An actual verse-chorus structure developed by Phil Collins, Mike Rutherford and Tony Banks. And get this, the song was based in reality. It was a song of romance, not of mythic creatures and fairy tales. The realness of “Follow You Follow Me” was refreshing and relatable. Prog rock purists may scoff at it. But, at the same time, it wasn’t like the song was void of all progressive tendencies. The instrumentation, in particular, still held on to a musicality that pushed boundaries especially with Tony Banks on keys.

“I will stay with you will you stay with me. Just one single tear in each passing year there will be.”

"ROCK AND ROLL" THE VELVET UNDERGROUND (1970)

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

Producer Brian Eno famously said this: “The Velvet Underground didn’t sell many records, but everyone who bought one went out and started a band.” The quote speaks to the pure love of the music that the band had. Lou Reed himself once said this about music: “If I hadn't heard rock and roll on the radio, I would have had no idea there was life on this planet. Which would have been devastating - to think that everything, everywhere was like it was where I come from. That would have been profoundly discouraging. Movies didn't do it for me. TV didn't do it for me. It was the radio that did it." It’s the sentiment behind “Rock and Roll”. That song was about him.

“Rock and Roll” is Lou Reed wearing his rabid love for music on his sleeve. A passion I’ve always identified with – that undying obsession to music. No other creative expression or pursuit compares. This was the b-side to “Sweet Jane”, which is a spectacular song in itself. But I think those two songs could’ve easily swapped sides with each other without anyone blinking an eye. “Rock and Roll” was on that level. It had this unexpected chord progression to it which was driving the song from the start, while Reed’s howling falsetto turned in one of the band’s finest vocal moments. It’s one of my all-time favorite Velvet Underground songs.

“There was nothin' goin' down at all, not at all. Then one fine morning, she puts on a New York station. You know, she don't believe what she heard at all. She started shaking to that fine, fine music. You know, her life was saved by rock and roll.”

"BOOGIE SHOES" KC & THE SUNSHINE BAND (1975)

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

Few soundtracks defined the decade better than Saturday Night Fever. It’s like a musical encyclopedia of the 70s. Every single track is a cultural icon, from the heavy dose of the Bee Gees (“Stayin’ Alive”, “More Than A Woman” and “Night Fever”) to Yvonne Elliman’s “If I Can’t Have You” to The Trammps’ “Disco Inferno” to Walter Murhpy’s “A Fifth of Beethoven”. More than halfway through, the album gets interesting with a song that’s not just pure disco: “Boogie Shoes”.

KC & The Sunshine Band released the song three years before the soundtrack. But back then, it was just a b-side. Saturday Night Fever really helped put “Boogie Shoes” on the map. Trumpets and saxophones adorn this fun, two-minute song. Those horn arrangements are legendary. “Boogie Shoes” has a little disco heart. and a lot of funk mixed in there as well. What makes the song less expected, however, is that these other genres make these sneaky entrances through the back door of the song, including elements of doo-wop and rockabilly. There’s simply nothing else like it.

“I want to put on my my my my my boogie shoes.”

"THE KNACK" SQUEEZE (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

Squeeze is generally hailed as an underrated rock band. An outfit that deserves more attention that it has received from critics and fans. The songwriting partnership of Chris Difford and Glen Tilbrook has netted a catalog that’s big on melody, often on the cheery side of things. While “Pulling Mussels (From The Shell)” and “Tempted” are classics in my book, the band is generally not my cup of tea. But there’s one lesser-known track off of Cool For Cats that is very un-Squeeze-like, and maybe my favorite track of theirs: “The Knack”.

The melody on “The Knack” is less neat and defined unlike most Squeeze songs. It’s hard to even decipher which notes are being sung. I think it’s why I like it so much. “The Knack” is less on the nose. It’s also less cheery, almost sinister, lying comfortably on the darker side of new wave. The most iconic elements of the song are the skittish keyboard hook and the rhythm section that features a punchy bass line that gets out in space. Cool For Cats is often remembered for the title track and “Up the Junction”, but halfway through the album one can find a song that defies expectations.

“Waffle in a Guinness. Tied between the bars. Fifty fifty chances. Bulletproof all cars.”

"THE BED'S TOO BIG WITHOUT YOU" THE POLICE (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 Police are that unique breed of rock that we can look back at and affirm one thing: no one else was doing what they were doing at the level in which they were doing it. There are countless bands that merged rock with punk. Many others who merged rock with new wave. But no other relevant band did what they did with rock and reggae so seamlessly. The sound is invigorating and has a very improvisational feel even in its calculated nature. One of the more pronounced examples of this is the eighth track off Regatta De Blanc: “The Bed’s Too Big Without You”.

It’s a song about a former girlfriend of Sting’s. It’s a song of loneliness and remorse. It’s not an unusual topic for a rock song, but it’s a lament told on a bed of reggae rock, a genre that The Police seemed to be defining almost overnight. There’s nothing else like it. Over the course of the band’s career, Sting’s most obvious contributions have been his songwriting abilities and his soaring tenor vocals. But critics have said his bass playing is a bit lacking, almost pedestrian. Well, that’s simply not the case with “The Bed’s Too Big Without You”. The song puts the bass playing at the forefront. The bass line cascades downward along with Sting’s waning spirit. Just maybe you might feel a little bit of what Sting was feeling when he wrote the song.

“Living on my own was the least of my fears.”

"THE BOXER" SIMON & GARFUNKEL (1970)

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

Bridge Over Troubled Water is the final studio album from Simon & Garfunkel, an album so good it prompts the listener to greedily beg for more. Simon carried the songwriting duties, but the harmonies are just as much a part of those songs as the melodies. The album spawned iconic songs that have made an indelible impact on the musical landscape: “Bridge Over Troubled Water” which features Art Garfunkel on lead vocals, “Cecilia” which has a persona driven mostly by its memorable percussion elements, and then there’s my favorite of the bunch: “The Boxer”.

The song is autobiographical, a rare treat inside the mind of the songwriter. The theme of being misunderstood and only remembered for what people want to remember are prevalent in the song. “The Boxer” is a masterpiece from a lyrical perspective. It bends words like poetry (“Such are promises. All lies and jest. Still, a man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest”). It paints images like prose (“Asking only workman's wages I come looking for a job. But I get no offers. Just a come-on from the whores on Seventh Avenue.”). And it goes beyond coherent words using syllables as expressions with the iconic refrain “Lie-la-lie”. There are simply few songwriters as gifted as Paul Simon.

“Asking only workman's wages I come looking for a job. But I get no offers. Just a come-on from the whores on Seventh Avenue.”

"SOLSBURY HILL" PETER GABRIEL (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

My exposure to the music of Peter Gabriel started with MTV. Great, artistic videos. Songs like “Shock the Monkey” and “Sledgehammer” were these infectious, mid-tempo bangers. The videos looked great and the music sounded great. But it wasn’t until I was later introduced to Gabriel’s wider palette in his solo work that I truly became a fan. “Biko”, “Games Without Frontiers” and “Solsbury Hill” were the bridge to this proggy world of rock. The latter is playing non-stop today on my Mental Jukebox.

“Solsbury Hill” is a song about letting go from the past and looking ahead to the future. It’s a sentiment captured in the amazing lyrics and reflected in the timing. It was Gabriel’s solo debut, written and performed on the heels of his departure from Genesis. And it’s a sentiment revealed in the music. Each note bearing an apparent sense of optimism. Without being corny or insincere. Which, when you think long and hard about it, puts “Solsbury Hill” in a very small group of distinguished rock songs.

“Standing, stretching every nerve. Had to listen. Had no choice.”

"LANDSLIDE" FLEETWOOD MAC (1975)

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

Fleetwood Mac fans might be some of the most loyal music fans out there. To them, Rumours is like Citizen Kane. And Stevie Nicks is a goddess. I’ve never really stopped and wondered why these fans adore this band so much. But it is a peculiar thing. It rivals the level of devotion in Deadheads. Fans that will travel on planes and quit their jobs to see their band open with “The Chain”, close with “Go Your Own Way”, and play a Stevie Nicks ballad right smack in the middle of the setlist. A beautiful, timeless song called “Landslide”.

It occurred to me that “Landslide” might be a microcosm of everything that fans love about Fleetwood Mac. Stevie Nicks’ signature raspy delivery is the centerpiece of the song. Wise beyond her years, written and sung with perspective we don’t often see in a rock star. And then there’s Lindsey Buckingham’s iconic acoustic guitar, steady, un-flashy, but absolutely critical to the sound of the song. The instrumentation is minimal because “Landslide” doesn’t need to be covered in layers. It’s the heart of the song that matters. And maybe that’s what Fleetwood Mac fans are truly after.

“Time makes you bolder. Even children get older. And I'm getting older too.”

"SEPTEMBER" EARTH, WIND & FIRE (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

Music plays such an integral role at weddings. Yet, there’s so much bad wedding music out there. You’ve heard ‘em. You probably danced to them. “Macarena”, “Electric Slide”, “Kung Fu Fighting”. They’ve somehow become wedding classics. But we know there are the real classics that seem to get everyone onto the dance floor. That’s something Earth, Wind & Fire knows a thing or two about. How to get your butt up off the seat. Your spirits up in the air. Your cheesiest dance moves out there for the world to see. They know all this because of the song “September”.

This is the song that launched a million wedding dance floors. It’s universally loved. 8 years old or 80 years old, Single or married, Everyone can appreciate it. As far as disco falsetto vocals and horn arrangements go, it doesn’t get much better. Maurice White added the unforgettable “bah-dee-ya” refrain to the song, When one of his co-songwriters questioned the inclusion of that gibberish, she quickly learned not to let lyrics get in the way of groove. “Bah-dee-ya” just works. The moment “September” plays, you’re in the moment. Ready to celebrate. Ready to cut a rug. Ready to let loose. And, if you’re not, well maybe you should’ve just stayed home.

“Do you remember the 21st night of September? Love was changing the minds of pretenders while chasing the clouds away.”

"BOTH ENDS BURNING" ROXY MUSIC (1975)

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 scene in the music documentary Depeche Mode 101 where frontman David Gahan is singing gleefully to Roxy Music’s “Love is the Drug” while playing pinball. It would be easy to gloss over that scene because, on the surface, it seems meaningless. An extra shot thrown in to show the band unwinding behind stage. But it’s actually much more than that. It’s a poignant reminder that Roxy Music is an important band that went beyond glam rock and impeccable style. They are inspiration to many new wave bands and the genre’s various iterations. The influences can be heard throughout the Siren album, including the track “Both Ends Burning”.

While David Gahan’s vocals sound eerily similar to Bryan Ferry’s approach in “Love is the Drug”, you can make the argument that Duran Duran’s Simon Le Bon sings like Ferry does in “Both Ends Burning”. In fact, the song sounds like a foreshadowing of early Duran Duran. The rhythm section, in particular, sounds like an early glimpse of John Taylor’s bass hooks and Roger Taylor’s drumbeats. The shimmery synth interludes have Nick Rhodes written all over them and the guitar riff finds the right moments to shine just like Andy Taylor did in the 80’s. Hearing back “Both Ends Burning” today, it’s a marvel to know Roxy Music created this a good 7 years before Duran Duran made their big entry into new wave. “Both Ends Burning” and the entire Siren album were a launch pad for many great bands to follow.

“Both ends burning and I can't control the fires raging in my soul tonight.”

"BICYCLE RACE" QUEEN (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

Some of the most impressive songs I know are ones characterized by dimension. These songs are like pieces of clay, stretched in different directions, taking on various tempos, chord progressions, instrumentation and genres. They give our ears a lot to listen to and plenty to think about. There are few bands that do this as well as Queen. Many of their more well known songs are epic pieces consisting of varying movements. One of the best examples of this appears on the first side of Jazz: the sing-songy “Bicycle Race”.

“I want to ride my bicycle”. Sounds simple, but then Freddie Mercury gets to the call-and-response verses and the song becomes a social commentary of the times. Like “It’s The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)” and “We Didn’t Start The Fire” did for the 80’s, “Bicycle Race” made certain we never forgot about the 70’s long after they passed us by. But unlike the R.E.M. and Billy Joel songs, it employed more musical dimension in the process. You might love “Bicycle Race” or you may hate it. But one thing we can all agree on about the song is this: It’s never ever boring.

“You say "coke", I say "caine". You say "John", I say "Wayne". "Hot dog", I say, "Cool it, man". I don't wanna be the President of America.”

"MEXICO" JAMES TAYLOR (1975)

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

James Taylor’s version of folk has straddled two sides of the emotional spectrum: happy and sad. Songs like “How Sweet It is” and “Your Smiling Face” were uplifting, but more often JT was hanging out on the other end of spectrum as evidenced by signature tracks like “Fire and Rain” and “You’ve Got a Friend”. “Carolina in My Mind” and “Country Road” would’ve been light and airy if they were sung by someone else, but there’s an inescapable sadness in the way Taylor sings those classics. Thankfully, that isn’t the case with “Mexico”. The border town fantasy sounds like a place you want to escape to, not escape from.

This is my favorite JT song of all time. Having harmony masters David Crosby and Graham Nash singing backing vocals certainly didn’t hurt. But it was JT’s acoustic guitar that was the musical highlight and the heartbeat of this song. From the opening sequence to the end refrain, he found a way to create a melodic masterpiece out of these unusual chord progressions—an uncommon achievement for pop music at the time. And the best thing about it, “Mexico” still holds up so well more than four decades later.

“Way down here, you need a reason to move. Feel a fool running your stateside games.”

"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.”