"QUEENS OF THE BREAKERS" THE BARR BROTHERS (2017)

A great title track is par for the course when it comes to great albums. If the title track doesn’t cut it, what does that say about the album itself? This month, the Mental Jukebox will be playing some of my favorite title tracks – inspired by @NicolaB_73’s music Twitter challenge, #TopTitleTracks.

Finding The Barr Brothers was one of the most glorious moments for me as a music fan. They had elements of familiarity – ones I couldn’t always quite put my finger on. But at the same time, they seemed to occupy a space all their own. Never contrived or boring. The guitars were often competing head to head with the harp, making sounds that seemed to to dig deep into my bones. When they promoted Queens Of The Breakers, I was fortunate to catch them as they passed through New York. They played a phenomenal set list that included the album’s title track.

“Queens Of The Breakers” possesses a carefree spirit, light in its musicality and sounds great in the live setting. It reminds me of Fleetwood Mac’s “Hold Me” with its high-soaring guitar riffs. The unpretentiousness and authenticity of the lyrics is something to behold. Lyrically, “Queens Of The Breakers” sounds more like a letter to an old lover than a rock song.

“On a red-eye flight from New York, I was looking for you down on the ground.”

"RIO" DURAN DURAN (1982)

A great title track is par for the course when it comes to great albums. If the title track doesn’t cut it, what does that say about the album itself? This month, the Mental Jukebox will be playing some of my favorite title tracks – inspired by @NicolaB_73’s music Twitter challenge, #TopTitleTracks.

MTV was my introduction to a lifelong passion of music. I didn’t realize it at the time, but all those videos from the early to mid eighties were a cumulative spark. No other band had the presence that Duran Duran did during that era. Each music video oozed cool. “Girls On Film”, “Planet Earth”, “Rio”, “Hungry Like The Wolf”, “Union Of The Snake”, the list goes on. Some of those videos were like mini movies.

Who can forget the yacht scene in “Rio”? But it’s the song itself – not the images – that earns the highest accolades. John Taylor has a treasure trove of killer bass lines, and “Rio” is often cited as one of his best. The bass line, in fact, could’ve been a song all on its own. Dig a cool sax solo? “Rio” has that too, played by longtime Duran Duran collaborator, Andy Hamilton. Among dozens and dozens of catchy pop singles from the band, “Rio” remains one of their best.

“And when she shines, she really shows you all she can.”

"THE BENDS" RADIOHEAD (1995)

A great title track is par for the course when it comes to great albums. If the title track doesn’t cut it, what does that say about the album itself? This month, the Mental Jukebox will be playing some of my favorite title tracks – inspired by @NicolaB_73’s music Twitter challenge, #TopTitleTracks.

Radiohead has made its name mostly by innovating the way we think of rock music. Over several decades, their ingenuity has expressed itself in unorthodox chord progressions, unexpected song structures, electronic experimentations, and more. Even still, it’s the straight ahead rock of The Bends that I love best. It is my favorite Radiohead album. And mostly because of Jonny’s guitar-driven bangers, including the title track.

Interestingly, “The Bends” seems to nod to various influences. The melodic structure is undoubtedly Beatlesque. The loud-quiet-loud dynamics is a page right out of the Pixies manual. And Thom Yorke has described the song as a Bowie pastiche. There is a lot to like on “The Bends”, but the best element is Jonny’s guitar playing. It screeches, jangles and soars like a melange of human emotions, as if the guitar itself is screaming and kicking.

“We don't have any real friends.”

"2112" RUSH (1976)

A great title track is par for the course when it comes to great albums. If the title track doesn’t cut it, what does that say about the album itself? This month, the Mental Jukebox will be playing some of my favorite title tracks – inspired by @NicolaB_73’s music Twitter challenge, #TopTitleTracks.

Borrowing Rush cassettes from the town library as a kid was a sort of rite of passage for me as a music fan. Friends from school who had older brothers would tell me how great the band was. At the library, I would flip through the album offerings and those album covers – 2112, Signals, Permanent Waves, A Farewell To Kings – caught my attention. Expressive album art with strange beige plastic backs, these albums stood out like sore thumbs. Then I would play the music in my basement and get lost in the music of Rush, including the epic title track “2112”, featuring seven movements.

“2112” takes up the entire Side A. A concept that was mind blowing to me as a kid who thought songs were supposed to max out at four minutes. The first two parts – “Overture” and “The Temples of Syrinx” have always been my favorite. This magnum opus kicks off with a celestial soundscape. Then Alex’s guitar asserts itself like Neil Armstrong planting the American flag on the moon – only here it’s the Canadian flag that gets flaunted. Then Neil’s thunderous drum rolls unleash and it’s on like Donkey Kong. There’s still a sense of wonder in me every time I hear it.

“All the gifts of life are held within our walls.”

"IS THIS IT" THE STROKES (2001)

A great title track is par for the course when it comes to great albums. If the title track doesn’t cut it, what does that say about the album itself? This month, the Mental Jukebox will be playing some of my favorite title tracks – inspired by @NicolaB_73’s music Twitter challenge, #TopTitleTracks.

The first time I heard the debut album from The Strokes, I was riding up from S.F. to Lake Tahoe with an old high school buddy. We had nonstop tracks blasting in the car and fresh tracks waiting for us on the mountain. The music was cranked up to the point where you almost felt a little nauseous. And this was the album I’ll always associate with that trip. I’ve heard The Strokes described as the band that saved rock & roll. I don’t think it’s too much of an exaggeration either. When I heard that album, I had a feeling inside that all was good with rock music. That there was direction, an identity. And, of course, it all started with the title track.

“Is This It” is the thesis statement to the whole masterpiece that is one of the strongest debut albums of the decade. It wasn’t the biggest hit by any stretch. But it was the introduction to the raw, minimally produced garage sound that is The Strokes. This sound helped steer the New York concert scene in the early 2000s, and now there’s even a movie about it that documents the era when The Strokes, Interpol, Yeah Yeah Yeahs and others took command of the music scene. “Is This It” sounded vaguely familiar and entirely fresh at the same time.

“Oh dear, can't you see? It's them it's not me. We're not enemies. We just disagree.”

"AVALON" ROXY MUSIC (1982)

A great title track is par for the course when it comes to great albums. If the title track doesn’t cut it, what does that say about the album itself? This month, the Mental Jukebox will be playing some of my favorite title tracks – inspired by @NicolaB_73’s music Twitter challenge, #TopTitleTracks.

You can’t copy Bryan Ferry’s vocals and you wouldn’t even try. And you can’t mimic the intricate instrumentation because the soul of the song is Roxy Music, not just the melody. Roxy Music gave the music world an unusual, progressive rock tilt in the 70s, then elevated pop music in the 80s. Of course, there are more than two phases to the band’s musical journey. But these were the two broader eras. The title track to the renowned Avalon album is a perfect example of the latter.

I’ve been binging on Roxy Music lately, spurred on mostly by their big reunion tour. I’ve come to the hard, sober conclusion that I like the idea of Roxy Music more than I like the actual band. Scattered across several innovative and influential albums, there really are only one or two songs from each album that I really like. It’s a bit ironic that it’s the most mainstream of their albums – Avalon – that’s the one that I love from beginning to end. The production qualities on the title track are phenomenal with its rich, vast soundscape, and Ferry’s lyrics, equally sublime.

“Much communication in a motion. Without conversation or a notion. Avalon.”

"JOLENE" DOLLY PARTON (1974)

A great title track is par for the course when it comes to great albums. If the title track doesn’t cut it, what does that say about the album itself? This month, the Mental Jukebox will be playing some of my favorite title tracks – inspired by @NicolaB_73’s music Twitter challenge, #TopTitleTracks.

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.

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, please don't take him just because you can.”

"ZIGGY STARDUST" DAVID BOWIE (1972)

A great title track is par for the course when it comes to great albums. If the title track doesn’t cut it, what does that say about the album itself? This month, the Mental Jukebox will be playing some of my favorite title tracks – inspired by @NicolaB_73’s music Twitter challenge, #TopTitleTracks.

I don’t think I could ever summarize the impact that “Ziggy Stardust” has had on rock & roll in just a couple of paragraphs. But I’ll say this. When I was in high school, a half-decent set of musicians played it at Battle of the Bands and the thing was powerful. They weren’t exceptional. They weren’t in sync. But they unlocked Bowie’s emotion, ingenuity and attitude. That’s the power of Ziggy. In many ways, the song, like the main character, helped save rock & roll.

To really understand Ziggy’s power, you just have to look at two elements: the guitar and the vocals. The opening line in the first verse sets the tone: “As Ziggy played guitar…”. The song is a force to be reckoned with because of the riffs. Mick Ronson shreds his way through one of the most guitar-driven songs from the Bowie canon – and it is an ode to the electric guitar in many ways. Then there’s Bowie himself who croons and cries his way through the verses and chorus, a lyrical masterpiece that reminds us why we got into rock ‘n roll in the first place.

“Making love with his ego, Ziggy sucked up into his mind.”

"THE QUEEN IS DEAD" THE SMITHS (1986)

A great title track is par for the course when it comes to great albums. If the title track doesn’t cut it, what does that say about the album itself? This month, the Mental Jukebox will be playing some of my favorite title tracks – inspired by @NicolaB_73’s music Twitter challenge, #TopTitleTracks.

Any time is a good time for The Queen Is Dead. But with Andy Rourke’s recent passing, I think it’s important to remember and celebrate how integral both he and Mike Joyce were to the sound of The Smiths. They were the engine room. Johnny Marr has commented on how significant a music moment it was when he first heard Rourke play the bass line for this title track from my favorite Smiths album. I felt the same way the first time I heard it.

It is an album opener that makes other album openers seem so inadequate. “The Queen Is Dead” kicks off with the sample from “Take Me Back To Dear Old Blighty”. It was magnificent. Before long, Mike Joyce launches a barrage on the drum set and Andy Rourke creates a slinging, cutting bass line, both of which make you hate yourself for ever thinking The Smiths were all about Morrissey and Marr. They’re all firing on all cylinders here. And this title track sounds like nothing else that we’ve heard before. It’s luring us in. And our lives are never the same again because this is The Queen Is Dead.

“Life is very long when you're lonely.”

"C'EST SI BON" EARTHA KITT (1953)

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: 1953

1953. The Korean armistice is signed. Color t.v. is invented. Roman Holiday hits the big screen. The “buy now, pay later” approach starts to spread. And the Yankees win the World Series. Life seems pretty darn good. Perhaps Eartha Kitt’s version of “C’est Si Bon” couldn’t have come at a better time than this. A sign of the carefree spirit and optimism of the times.

There are few voices as seductive and sultry as Eartha Kitt’s, which gave “C’est Si Bon” a flirtatious edge that wasn’t there before. In this version, she pairs with Henri René and his Orchestra. They seem almost catatonic compared to Eartha. She even seems more French than they do, because Eartha wasn’t just singing it, she embodied it. It’s why this recording takes on so much meaning and importance – even if you don’t know a lick of French.

“C'est si bon. De partir n'importe où. Bras dessus, bras dessous. En chantant des chansons.”

"I WALK THE LINE" JOHNNY CASH (1957)

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: 1957

Let’s get this part straight. I certainly don’t like Johnny Cash for the instrumentation. It seems like there’s one single bass line used on the majority of his songs. For me, the appeal has always been that deep voice like no other and the ability to spin masterful lyrics that feel so, Johnny Cash. There’s no other adjective to describe it. 1957 was a banner year for the legend. On With His Hot and Blue Guitar (extra points for the quirky album title), he released some of his biggest songs, including “Folsom Prison Blues”, “Cry! Cry! Cry!” and “I Walk The Line”.

I think the first verse says it all: “I keep a close watch on this heart of mine / I keep my eyes wide open all the time / I keep the ends out for the tie that binds / Because you're mine, I walk the line.” This is Johnny Cash to a T. There’s a resoluteness in what' he’s saying, but at the same time you know that his stance can change on a dime. There’s no balance. Which makes everything about the song – while simple as usual – feel so intense and true.

“I keep a close watch on this heart of mine. I keep my eyes wide open all the time. I keep the ends out for the tie that binds. Because you're mine, I walk the line.”

"BLUE SKIES" ELLA FITZGERALD (1958)

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: 1958

In 1958, Ella recorded her famous Ella Fitzgerald Sings the Irvin Berlin Song Book. The album pays homage to a legend whose songs make up a large part of the Great American Songbook. The album is also a mindblowing review of a voice like no other. Ella simply did things with her voice that nobody else could do – or even thought to do. Her vocals lived at a complex crossroads web of jazz, scat and experimentation.

Released as a bonus track on reissues of the album, “Blue Skies” showcases multiple facets of Ella’s vocals. There’s the silky, velvety smooth side. And then there’s the playful, scat-infused side that’s the antithesis of its counterpart. There are times, in fact, where Ella’s voice resembles an instrument, transcending the boundaries of traditional singing. It’s clear as the blue sky: Berlin may have written the song, but Ella owns it through and through.

“Blue days, All of them gone. Nothing but blue skies From now on.”

"WHAT I'D SAY, PT. 1 & 2" RAY CHARLES (1959)

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: 1959

For as long as music has been around, jam sessions have been around, too. That thing that brings musicians together – their love for music – and an openness to whatever may come of it. There’s a thrill in that. The night will be fun regardless. But on some occasions, the night can go down in history. Like the night this song was born. “What I’d Say” was a song born out of a late night improv jam session.

Ray Charles and his band finished their set and just kept on playing. And when they kept playing, “What I’d Say” is what came out, right there out on the stage. Over the course of eight minutes, “What I’d Say” defined soul music, won the adoration of music fans and managed to piss off quite a few as well. It combined electric piano with real piano and it turned the high hat into a central percussion element.

“WHEN YOU SEE ME IN MISERY, COME ON BABY, SEE ABOUT ME.”

"NOTHING CAN CHANGE THIS LOVE" SAM COOKE (1963)

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: 1963

It’s time to pay homage to a legend. The king of soul. The man whose voice and music influenced Aretha Franklin, Al Green, Curtis Mayfield, Stevie Wonder, Marvin Gaye, Otis Redding and so many others. Play a single note from any one of his songs and his voice is instantly recognizable. In 1963, he released two albums – Mr. Soul and Night Beat. The latter is considered to be the stronger of the two, but I love the track “Nothing Can Change This Love” from Mr. Soul.

This was the one song from Mr. Soul that Cooke wrote – and it’s one of the best from the bunch. I can listen to it a hundred times in a row – and never grow tired marveling at Cooke’s effortlessly sublime vocals. His voice is as smooth as molasses, but it’s also his delivery that is worth taking note of. It’s his timing that allows Cooke to create a sense of gravitas in every line. It’s why something so simple sounds so exceptional.

“If I go a million miles away I'd write a letter each and every day. 'Cause honey nothing, nothing Can ever change this love I have for you.”

"THE GIRL FROM IPANEMA" STAN GETZ & JOAO GILBERTO (1964)

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: 1964

Gilberto and Getz hail from two different worlds, but come together as one on this classic recording. In one instance, I can listen to “The Girl From Ipanema” and feel like I’m transported to a hot summer night in Rio. In another, I’m transported to a cold, wintry night in Manhattan. Either way, the song does carry with it that certain carefree mood – somehow that love is all that matters. And maybe everything will be alright.

This bossa nova staple reminds me of fond old memories – my first year in NYC. At the same time, it gets me to slow down a few RPMs and look to better days ahead.“The Girl From Ipanema” is a plea to not take things so seriously, including itself. Don’t over-analyze it. Don’t over-critique it. Just go with the flow. Enjoy it. Even if a part of you thinks it’s the cheesiest thing in the world. It is what it is, and often it’s just perfect for the moment.

“The girl from Ipanema goes walking And when she passes, Each one she passes goes, ‘Ah’.”

"SKY PILOT" ERIC BURDON & THE ANIMALS (1968)

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: 1968

A friend from high school introduced me to The Animals with an enthusiasm that even exceeded his love for the biggest. classic rock icons like Zeppelin, Cream and the Stones. I think there were many reasons for this, but it was largely the power, swagger and testosterone-fueled vocals of Eric Burdon. Most casual listeners are familiar with their big hits: “House of the Rising Sun”, “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood” and “We Gotta Get Out of This Place”. But my friend encouraged me to go a little deeper. The song that I looked forward to playing most on my Animals mixtape was a minor hit toward the end of their years called “Sky Pilot”.

The track was an anti-war song written during the time of the Vietnam War. But it wasn’t about an Air Force pilot, it was an ode to a military chaplain. “How high can you fly. You never, never, never reach the sky”. The track carries intrigue from both an instrumental and production perspective. “Sky Pilot” soars on a bed of reverb and flanging complete with guitar solo, a string arrangement, bagpipe interlude and a host of war-themed audio samples. Then, of course, there’s the underrated, masterful lead vocals from Burdon. The song is a feast for the ears. I loved “Sky Pilot” from the very first listen and that love has never died.

“HE MUMBLES A PRAYER AND IT ENDS WITH A SMILE.”

"PINK MOON" NICK DRAKE (1972)

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: 1972

Word has been out for several decades now, but for a time Nick Drake was one of music’s best kept secrets. Artists like Robert Smith drew upon Drake’s inspiration early on, but many fans didn’t even know who Nick Drake was or heard anything from his relatively short, but profound catalog until years after his death. With a return to cleaner acoustic-driven, folk-inspired, singer-songwriter records after the grunge era, Nick’s music resonated with fans, including the title track to the last album before his death: “Pink Moon”.

In between verses, Nick sings “Pink, pink, pink, pink”, going lower with each repetition, demonstrating the deep richness of his oak-barreled baritone voice. It’s a marvel to behold that a voice so deep can be so delicate and even serene – a stark contrast to the raw edge found in singers like Johnny Cash, Ian Curtis and Tom Waits. Nick’s voice – not just his vocals, but his message – has no peers. Even still today.

“I saw it written and I saw it say, A pink moon is on its way.”

"THE OCEAN" LED ZEPPELIN (1973)

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: 1973

Start strong. End strong. This simple concept worked wonders for Houses Of The Holy – an album that kicked off with one banger, “The Song Remains The Same”, and then closed out with another in “The Ocean”. A bit of nostalgia, this is one of the Zeppelin anthems that made me a fan for life. It was like a loaded shot of testosterone for me as a teen. I remember hearing it for the first time in my friend Scott’s pickup truck. And, boy, was it a pick-me-up. I’ll go as far as to say I think it’s a bit underrated and underappreciated among the band’s heavy hitters.

“The Ocean” takes the rulebook on time signatures and throws it out the window with its iconic two-bar guitar riff from the riffmaster Jimmy Page. It’s also a track of excess – a strength in this case. The lack of restraint serves the song well with a key turning point in the song: a baptism by doo-wop at the 3:17 mark where everything – the drums, guitar and bass – suddenly goes rollicky and the wheels come off. A powerful statement of a closer if I ever heard one.

“SINGING ABOUT GOOD THINGS AND THE SUN THAT LIGHTS THE DAY. I USED TO SING ON THE MOUNTAINS, HAS THE OCEAN LOST ITS WAY?”

"ALISON" ELVIS COSTELLO (1977)

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: 1977

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.”

"EVER FALLEN IN LOVE" BUZZCOCKS (1978)

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: 1978

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.”