"PALE SHELTER" TEARS FOR FEARS (1982)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 1982

Like many young kids in America during the eighties, my first exposure to Tears For Fears was Songs From The Big Chair, not The Hurting. Songs like “Shout”, “Everybody Wants To Rule The World”, “Head Over Heels” and “Mother’s Talk” were unavoidable if you had MTV. Each song had its own unique flavor, but all the flavors unmistakably came from the same chefs. Hearing Songs From The Big Chair first made the discovery of The Hurting that much more of a delight. It possesses an incredibly mature sound for a debut album, and “Change”, “Mad World” and “Pale Shelter” are still some of my favorite songs to this day.

“Pale Shelter” was one of two songs that Tears For Fears recorded as a demo that eventually got them a record deal. It was the song that got them noticed, and one of a handful of tracks that has earned them enormous respect among fans over the years. “Pale Shelter” is timeless. It doesn’t sound a day old, even 40 years later. TFF did it with the dual vocal attack from Smith and Orzabal, where backing vocals carry just as much weight as the lead parts. From the guitar strums to the keyboard swirls, every instrumental element glides and glistens on the song. “Pale Shelter” is produced to perfection.

“HOW CAN I BE SURE WHEN YOUR INTRUSION'S MY ILLUSION?”

"UNION OF THE SNAKE" DURAN DURAN (1983)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 1983

Duran Duran is the first band that I loved. Looking back, I think this fact was unavoidable. My brother and I were glued to MTV – and Duran Duran was king of the station. It seemed like a new video from the band was constantly surfacing. Largely influenced by Japan and Roxy Music, Duran Duran weren’t exactly pioneers. But they were in many ways the perfecters. They knew how to write infectious pop songs, often highlighted by the frenetic stylings on John Taylor’s bass guitar. A prime example of this is “Union of the Snake”.

I still remember seeing the video on MTV and being reeled in by the images and the music. Every band member had his moment to shine on the track, yet none of the instrumentation feels excessive. The breakdown and musical arrangement at the 2:16 mark, in particular, is one of Duran Duran’s finest studio moments and one of the most imaginative musical expressions of the decade. On it, you’ll hear each member playing off of each other in a call-and-response structure, culminating in a sax solo by session player Andy Hamilton. While all the band members seemed to create a unified sonic boom on anthems like “Rio” and “The Reflex”, “Union of the Snake” marched to a different beat by thrusting each member into the spotlight at different points in time.

“There's a fine line drawing my senses together, and I think it's about to break.”

"THE DEAD HEART" MIDNIGHT OIL (1986)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 1986

Midnight Oil may not be the quintessential 80s band, but when it came to using music as a social and political voice, there was none better. The message was always loud and clear. Peter Garrett’s vocals were powerful and distinct. And the hooks were always on point — from “Beds are Burning” to the most obscure songs in their catalog. Somewhere in the middle was the album rocker “The Dead Heart”.

I think “Beds are Burning” is certainly more anthemic and representative of the decade’s music. But I always thought “The Dead Heart” was an underrated Midnight Oil song. It dealt with the mistreatment of indigenous Australians and took the message to the country’s mainstream airwaves. Peter Garrett rocked it as usual. But the backing vocals are what make the song. The “doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo” refrain is among modern rock’s most memorable interludes. And the chorus is sung by three of the band members in the same notes rather than in a three-part melody, symbolizing the unified conviction of the message.

“WE CARRY IN OUR HEARTS THE TRUE COUNTRY AND THAT CANNOT BE STOLEN.”

"PEEK-A-BOO" SIOUXSIE & THE BANSHEES (1988)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 1988

It takes a special kind of band to continually push boundaries, venturing beyond one’s comfort zone but simultaneously staying true to one’s essence. Siouxsie & The Banshees belongs in this prestigious category. Album to album, they have a history of folding in new genres into their post punk foundation. Even at their highest commercial success – the single “Kiss Them For Me” – they still stayed true to their essence. And one of the greatest examples of the band’s innovative side is “Peek-A-Boo”.

“Peek-A-Boo” sounds like one part circus, one part torture chamber, two parts industrial factory. Siouxsie sings with a highly unusual delivery, and every musical element – the accordion, the keys, and the drums – contributes greatly to the celebration of industrial noise. Gone are the guitar hooks. And even Severin’s bass is barely detectable on the track, aside from a few revs here and there. The track belongs to Siouxsie and Budgie, whose drums provide all the hooks you need.

“Peepshow, creepshow, Where did you get those eyes?”

"PURE" THE LIGHTNING SEEDS (1990)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 1990

My love for music really soared when two key events in my life came to fruition: getting my driver’s license when I was a junior in high school and finding out about an alt rock station that my county was able to barely catch on the airwaves. The reception wasn’t great, but it was more than good enough. WDRE – formerly WLIR – was the station where I discovered new bands and rediscovered ones that have been around for years. It’s the station where I first discovered The Lightning Seeds and the breakthrough alt single “Pure”.

“Pure” blasting in my Oldsmobile Omega, windows down, cruising through windy roads back from track practice, on my way to a friend’s house or to the Mt. Kisco Diner. “Pure” was light, upbeat, euphoric. It was like a drug. It didn’t matter how crappy of a day I had, “Pure” saved the day. It didn’t matter if the girl didn’t like me back, “Pure” saved the day. It didn’t matter if I had no plans for the weekend, “Pure” saved the day. Ian Broudie’s music is like a time capsule stored away in a closet. The music didn’t stay highly relevant over the past few decades. But it’s awesome seeing him at Glastonbury 2023. No one ever forgets great music – it’s pure and simple every time.

“Don't sell the dreams you should be keeping.”

"HUMAN BEHAVIOUR" BJORK (1993)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 1993

I’ll admit, while I liked a small handful of Sugarcubes tracks (“Hit”, “Leash Called Love”, “Motorcycle” to name a few), the band as a whole were just a little too cooky for me. Especially with the guy exclaiming random things into the mic. Why not just leave the vocals to Bjork? So, the minute Bjork went solo, I think that’s when things got a whole lot better. I thought her music got instantly stronger, smarter and more poignant. It all started with an opening track called “Human Behaviour”.

Like her vocals with the Sugarcubes, the song still had her signature vocal gymnastics. It’s like she’s warming up in front of us and blowing our minds from the get go. And the singing is gorgeous. But where things diverge are in the instrumentation. “Human Behavior” was still experimental and imaginative, but it wasn’t fraught with a dual personality dynamic. The song, in its entirety, was going in a single direction that was exciting and cool.

“If you ever get close to a human and human behavior, be ready, be ready to get confused and me and my here after. There's definitely, definitely, definitely no logic to human behavior.”

"BONES" RADIOHEAD (1995)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 1995

Music fans have mostly heralded the originality and ambition of OK Computer and Kid A over all the other incredible Radiohead albums. OK Computer is one of my favorite albums of all time, no doubt. But it’s not even my favorite Radiohead record. That distinction belongs to The Bends. I love innovation just like any semi-serious music fan, but at the end of the day, I just want a great collection of bangers. Like the first six studio albums from Zeppelin, The Bends is an album built on monster guitar riffs, not monster ambitions. There’s not a weak link in the bunch. “Street Spirit (Fade Out)”, “Fake Plastic Trees” and “(Nice Dream)” are perhaps the most well known songs on the tracklist, but “Bones” is one of those that makes me wish Radiohead would keep rocking out a little more.
How about Jonny’s guitar chops on this one? On “Bones”, this makes me think of all the kids out there who want to play guitar. I think most of them want to play like Jonny. Thrashing, screeching and motoring his way across a three-minute piece de resistance. Everything else rides on this monster wave, that grooving bass line and Thom’s vocals that fluctuate from straight-ahead underground to falsetto in the heavens. “Bones” is the kid in Thom, Jonny, Ed, Colin and Philip jamming in the garage because there’s nothing remotely better to do with their time.

“NOW I CAN'T CLIMB THE STAIRS. PIECES MISSING EVERYWHERE. PROZAC PAINKILLERS. WHEN YOU'VE GOT TO FEEL IT IN YOUR BONES.”

"I USED TO LOVE HIM" LAURYN HILL FEAT. MARY J. BLIGE (1998)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 1998

Lauryn Hill has one studio album to her credit, but it’s one for the ages. A hugely ambitious effort, The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill was a concept album and a personal memoir. It rewrote the rules and redefined genres like soul and hip hop. It had that rare quality of making your whole being move. Not just your body, but your mind and soul. There were enough songs to get two albums out of it. And one song deserves more credit than it gets. The second half kicks off with one of the greatest, most glorious breakup songs ever: “I Used to Love Him”.

The doo-wop influences are all over Miseducation, and especially apparent in the opening harmony on “I Used to Love Him”. It’s one of the most memorable and iconic musical moments on the album. But the highlight is the dual rant from Hill and Mary J. Blige. The breakups described in the lyrics weren’t debilitating, they were liberating. The more I listen to “I Used to Love Him” the more I come to a beautiful realization. That the song is less about breakups and more about reclaiming your identity.

“I CHOSE THE ROAD OF PASSION AND PAIN. SACRIFICED TOO MUCH. AND WAITED IN VAIN. GAVE UP MY POWER. CEASED BEING QUEEN.”

"LEIF ERICKSON" INTERPOL (2002)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 2002

Turn On The Bright Lights, in retrospect, seems to garner even more accolades for its contributions to the post-punk revival movement than when it was first released. It was such an important album coming off the heels of 9/11. To this day, it’s viewed by many to be the best Interpol record from beginning to end. (Not for me though, that would be Antics). TOTBL is full of grating, rhythmic bangers that cut to the bone. They are anthems of early 2000s indie rock. And the track that I turn back to over and over again is one of the lesser celebrated ones: the closer “Leif Erickson”.

Images of navigating murky waters in the bedroom at the dead of night are conjured up every time I hear it. Kessler’s and Banks’ guitars weave in and out like they’re making love to each other. Meanwhile, Carlos D (God, I miss this guy) and Fogarino lay down a rhythmic bed that ships you off to sea in your pajamas and all. As a closing track, it leaves a certain taste in your mouth and a sense of anticipation of what’s to come next for this very important band.

“SHE SAYS IT HELPS WITH THE LIGHTS OUT. HER RABID GLOW IS LIKE BRAILLE TO THE NIGHT.”

"STOCKHOLM SYNDROME" MUSE (2003)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 2003

I first discovered Muse on a car ride. My in-laws asked me if I heard the band Muse and then proceeded to play songs from Absolution. I wasn’t hooked immediately, but I was intrigued enough because I had heard nothing like them before. Muse is a genre masher. They sound like metal at time and attract their fair share of headbangers at their shows. They also have a progressive bent to them, both lyrically and musically with ambitious compositions soaked in heavy distortion. They even have classical music accents in terms of their song structures and chord progressions. You can hear Chopin and Rachmaninov imprinted all over their music. All of these genres come to a head in “Stockholm Syndrome”, one of the band’s most aggressive bangers.

“Sockholm Syndrome” lifts you up and then shoves you down. Every single note and word seemingly unleashing a fit of rage. You might just be casually listening to the music when you feel the slightest bit of insanity taking over. Interestingly, the song personifies the abuser in a Stockholm syndrome scenario, not the victim. Like the abuser, the music feels like it’s trying to sway you. Convince you. “Stockholm Syndrome” demands your obedience and that you never leave its side. Which is totally fine by me.

“AND WE'LL LOVE, AND WE'LL HATE AND WE'LL DIE. ALL TO NO AVAIL.”

"ALWAYS A RELIEF" THE RADIO DEPT. (2006)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 2006

When I was first introduced to The Radio Dept., I realized that all the other music that I was listening to at the time was characterized by bold, angular guitar riffs. Most of it probably had some association with post-punk revival. So when I first heard the Lesser Matters and Pet Grief albums, it felt like a soft landing into a new world. Less mind-numbing than the shoegaze pioneers, The Radio Dept.’s brand of dream pop seemed perfect for lazy music discovery days or the kind of thing you’d put on in the background for ordinary days. I could’ve picked any song off of Pet Grief to highlight, but I’ll go with the exceptional closing track “Always a Relief”.

The tones on the opening drum sequence are a warm welcome, feeling reminiscent of the opening drumbeat in Joy Division’s “Disorder”. “Always a Relief” then slips into its gorgeous minor guitar chords, with. progressions that are almost as resistant to movement as one might be lying in bed on a rainy day. Like many Radio Dept. songs, the lyrics aren’t extensive, and the instrumentation isn’t exactly the most versatile display of the band’s abilities. “Always a Relief” is like a mood piece. A perfect ending to an album full of similarly dreamy moments.

“IT FEELS LIKE OUR TIME HAS GONE TO WASTE.”

"WHITE WINTER HYMNAL" FLEET FOXES (2008)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 2008

By no means is Fleet Foxes on the same level as CSN&Y. CSN&Y are music legends, the kind that maybe come around once every 20 years or so if we’re lucky. But Fleet Foxes isn’t that far behind. What Fleet Foxes pulled off in the 21st century is impressive. They put power harmonies center stage once again. And they did it with a folk-inspired sound that’s earthy and natural, a far cry from post-punk, dream pop or any of the key genres of their contemporaries. “White Winter Hymnal” remains one of my go-to Fleet Foxes tracks.

Like many Fleet Foxes songs, “White Winter Hymnal” shimmers with a cascade of echoing melodies from the mountains. The song is sung in rounds, a traditional form of singing that seemed to be given a new lease on life through the ban'd’s trademark harmonies where each vocal part comes in round after round. This approach has a way of sweeping me up and away, regardless of circumstance. And the words overdelivered. They felt more like classic literature than song lyrics, leading me to believe the character Michael was an allegory for something far greater.

“I WAS FOLLOWING THE PACK. ALL SWALLOWED IN THEIR COATS WITH SCARVES OF RED TIED 'ROUND THEIR THROATS.”

"VCR" THE XX (2009)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 2009

The XX created a world where minimal instrumentation, nearly comatose vocals and pregnant pauses came together beautifully. A case where certainly the whole is great than the sum of its parts. The debut album was something that had to be listened to from beginning to end. It was a new musical expression that needed time to truly sink in. “Intro” and “Crystalised” are the more recognizable and ambitious tracks. So I’ll go with a less obvious pick: “VCR”.

“VCR” is about dreaming of big moments while living in these seemingly insignificant ones, like watching VCR tapes. The song meanders with the sleepy vocals where Romy and Oliver take turns. The super simple guitar line miraculously works. Everything on a superficial level may appear to be underwhelming. But the song is transcendent. Any other band plays it, and you might dismiss it. But this is all part of what The XX was trying to accomplish in space. Less is more.

“WATCH THINGS ON VCRS WITH ME AND TALK ABOUT BIG LOVE. I THINK WE'RE SUPERSTARS. YOU SAY YOU THINK WE ARE THE BEST THING. BUT YOU, YOU JUST KNOW. YOU JUST DO.”

"ROSE QUARTZ" TORO Y MOI (2013)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 2013

Continuing my journey down south with a stopover in Columbia. It’s Chaz’s hometown. Where he went to high school - and formed a band. He also stayed local for college, majoring in graphic design at the University of South Carolina, before turning his focus to music. These are not the kinds of sounds you expect to come out of the region. Chaz didn’t just borrow the template. He’s one of the first names I think of and associate with chillwave and ambient.

Toro y Moi has always surprised me with what he’s able to accomplish with a synthesizer, extracting sounds and arrangements I’ve never heard before. “Rose Quartz” is maybe one of the best examples of his experimental side. It explores. It grooves. The synth orchestration washes over you in one instance and delicately brushes past you in another. It’s one of those tracks that defies genre labeling because there’s simply nothing like it.

“And if I fall into the sea, don't let me go.”

"FALLING ASHES" SLOWDIVE (2017)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 2017

The eponymously-titled album was the band’s first studio output in over 20 years. It’s highly unusual for a band to come back to record like that after such a lengthy hiatus. It’s even more unusual for a band to arrive in such spectactular form as Slowdive did in 2017, like not a single day passed since 1995’s Pygmalion. Their most recent studio album not only held up, it became my favorite Slowdive record. A big part of that is due to the strength of the final track, “Falling Ashes”.

What’s great about “Falling Ashes” is that it doesn’t depend on distortion and pedal effects to create the atmosphere. There’s an overwhelming expansiveness to the whole album where Slowdive uses some of their tried-and-true techniques, but “Falling Ashes” shows us a maturation to the band yet this is still undeniably Slowdive in every way. Impossibly beautiful. Unflinchingly contemplative. Utterly immersive.

“Love of my life, GRACE of my night.”

"THIS IS AMERICA" CHILDISH GAMBINO (2018)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 2018

The relationship between images and music has always been a powerful, inescapable part of the music listening experience. Album art. Music videos. Full-length concert documentaries. And now NFT collectibles. In 2018, Childish Gambino produced a music video for “This Is America” that was intricately and artistically tied to the track with perfection. There are few music videos that have left as powerful an impression as this one.

It’s easy to let the music video steal the thunder of this song itself. Which would be a shame. “This is America” blends hip hop with gospel and afrobeat textures, making the musicality completely different than anything else out there. Then there’s the message. Gun violence. Police brutality. Discrimination. Childish Gambino took this raw, honest commentary and the most un-pop-like track all the way to #1 on the charts. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime song.

“Look how I'm geekin' ouT. I'm so fitted. I'm on Gucci. I'm so pretty, yeah, yeah.”

"LIGHT YEARS" THE NATIONAL (2019)

This month, I’m jumping into the #APlaceInTheSong challenge from @JukeboxJohnny2. Great songs have that special ability to describe places in a way that makes us feel like we’re right there. Each day, I’ll pick a track that I think accomplishes that feat.

Year: 2019

A couple of months before the pandemic, I saw The National at NYC’s legendary Beacon Theater. They showed excerpts from a short film directed by Mike Mills, featuring songs from I Am Easy To Find—and ended with just a small handful of the fan favs. That night, I saw an evolution of the band that I’ve loved for many years. It’s not that they lost their edge, but they were older, wiser and more contemplative now—and “Light Years” was their beautiful banner statement for this new era.

The National will be back in NYC this summer, and it’s almost certain they will play “Light Years”. It represents an aspect of what they do best: ballads that speak on a deeply personal level, not some contrived set of words. I do miss the harder, louder, faster side of the band which has taken a back seat on the last two albums. But “Light Years” – with Berninger’s masterful lyrics, the piano interludes and atmospheric accents – is a reminder that few bands do ballads better than The National.

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

"YELLOW IS THE COLOR OF HER EYES" SOCCER MOMMY (2020)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 2020

After a two-year pause due to the pandemic, Soccer Mommy was the first concert I attended. It felt like I was getting reacquainted with an old friend. At the time, people weren’t used to standing in crowded spaces. But there we were at Brooklyn Steel. The concert didn’t disappointment. The music was there to heal wounds and revive us – even as Sophie Allison sang songs of loss and remorse, including “Yellow Is The Color Of Her Eyes”.

The Color Theory album – and this song in particular – reflect on Allison’s mother’s terminal illness. It’s deeply reflective and personal, and seemed perfect for the times as people were losing loved ones to COVID-19 at the same time. Allison was an indie pop artist that we could easily identify with. The lyrics in “Yellow Is The Color Of Her Eyes” seem so sad and hopeless, but the treble notes on her guitar add just enough levity to remind us we’ll get through this.

“Loving you isn't enougH. You'll still be deep in the ground when it's done.”

"RITCHIE SACRAMENTO" MOGWAI (2021)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 2021

Now onto a band that I was much too late getting into. Somehow these largely instrumental post-rock geniuses evaded my radar for far too long. Some of my favorite music come from bands that make songs I can get lost in. Songs that make me forget about my circumstances, or the opposite, help me to see my circumstances with even greater clarity. Mogwai’s music does this for me. I’ve mostly been drawn to the instrumental stuff. But on As The Love Continues, an album born out of the pandemic, Track #4 has vocals, and the song is just so good.

“Ritchie Sacramento” is a track that I treat just like all of Mogwai’s great instrumental tracks. The vocals are pretty spot on, and they even make me wish Mogwai sang more and wrote more lyrics. But I also listen to those vocals like they’re an instrument, interwoven with those shimmery guitar hooks. The vocals and instruments are like soulmates on this one. It may not happen often, but when Mogwai adds lyrics like they did on “Ritchie Sacramento”, the results are absolutely worth it.

“Rise crystal spear flied through over me. Suddenly gone from here, left alone on the road. What brings you back? Promises of a memory. Your own ghost running away with the past.”

"DARKNESS FADES" SHARON VAN ETTEN (2022)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 2022

We’ve Been Going About This All Wrong is the first album from Sharon Van Etten that I’ve listened to repeatedly from beginning to end. Van Etten’s trademark near-catatonic vocals are elevated on her newest album. Much more ethereal. Much more impactful. Each song takes my breath away. The track sequence plays a big role in this. Ebbs and flows built to lash out to and get lost in. “Darkness Fades” ushers us in, beckoning us to fall in line. Or just get out.

The opening guitar strums are so unassuming and so forgetful. Honestly, they require a bit of patience to get through. But the waiting is paid off tremendously at the 1:22 mark. From there, the immense instrumental layering of synth parts, guitar effects and ominous drum beats jostle you into a state of liberation. You can’t slow down this momentum or counter this force. After over a hundred listens, it still catches me off guard as I wait with bated breath for what’s next.

“I'M LOOKING AT OUR GRASS. I'M STRUGGLING FOR WORDS. I'M DREAMING OF A PLACE. I HELD CLOSE IN A STATE. DARKNESS FADES.”