"HEAVEN OR LAS VEGAS" COCTEAU TWINS (1990)

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.

It’s a shame more people don’t know the remarkable beauty and ingenuity of Cocteau Twins. The Heaven or Las Vegas album may have been their most well-known effort, but it still soars blissfully under the radar after all these years. The band helped create the soundscaped genre of dream pop much like how My Bloody Valentine helped shape the shoegaze equivalent. The title track, in particular, is one of my favorite Cocteau tracks to get lost in.

“Heaven or Las Vegas” emanates and enlightens. It could’ve made the darkest recesses of the earth sound euphoric. Elizabeth Fraser, once again, sounded more angelic than human. The swirling synths are practically hypnotizing, while the guitar holds you in a steady trance with these gorgeous cascading arpeggios and soaring riffs. Clocking in at nearly five minutes, “Heaven or Las Vegas” has become a shining example, not just of dream pop, but of any soundscape genre.

“I want to love. I've all the wrong glory.”

"PET GRIEF" THE RADIO DEPT. (2006)

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.

If you don’t know The Radio Dept., think Pet Shop Boys meets Cocteau Twins. Icy synth riffs go hand in hand with the dream pop world created on Pet Grief. Is it too polished? Possibly. But it’s that sense of gliding with the music that gives the record its edge. It’s an ambient record where one song bleeds seamlessly into the next. I had to table it at first when I was first introduced to them. The Radio Dept. didn’t rock hard enough for me. But eventually my openness to dream pop emerged, starting with the title track.

“Pet Grief” doesn’t rock to be sure, it rolls. This is the pace and stance of the entire album where the title track serves as a microcosm of the greater world that The Radio Dept. creates inside our heads. The Pet Shop Boys’ influence on the band is uncanny with the various synth parts all reminiscent of Chris Lowe’s canon. Johan Duncanson’s vocals seem almost despondent, which works well on this track whether he meant it or not.

“I'll shut my mouth for you. Anything you want me to.”

"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.”

"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.”

"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.”

"FALLING ASHES" SLOWDIVE (2017)

I started Mental Jukebox nearly three years ago at the beginning of the pandemic. During this time, I’ve discovered new music, rediscovered old favorites and I’ve met passionate music fans around the world. And when things opened up, I kept on blogging. This month, the jukebox goes deeper. The term “deep cut” has multiple meanings. It can refer to lesser known album tracks from well-known artists. It can also refer to tracks from lesser known artists. This month, I’ll be featuring both types. #DeepCutsFeb

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.”

"DRAG" LOW (1994)

I started Mental Jukebox nearly three years ago at the beginning of the pandemic. During this time, I’ve discovered new music, rediscovered old favorites and I’ve met passionate music fans around the world. And when things opened up, I kept on blogging. This month, the jukebox goes deeper. The term “deep cut” has multiple meanings. It can refer to lesser known album tracks from well-known artists. It can also refer to tracks from lesser known artists. This month, I’ll be featuring both types. #DeepCutsFeb

It is a bit ridiculous how many decades passed before I finally discovered this album. I love it now, but I can’t imagine the power it would’ve had on me had I listened to it during its era. It is the antithesis of two prevailing genres at the time: the loud, thrashing guitars of grunge rock and the feedback-soaked noise of shoegaze. Low’s debut record must’ve sounded strangely stark and naked in that era. It is how Low made a name for itself in the indie scene - that minimalist approach and, of course, those haunting harmonies from Alan and Mimi. God rest her soul. She’s still here when I play I Could Live In Hope once again in its entirety, which winds down with the treasured deep cut “Drag”.

“Drag” appropriately drags itself out in space with snare brushes dotting a haunting, finite landscape. Alan sounds young, hopeless and remorseful. The instrumentation is as minimal as it gets, starting with that bass line that reminds me of Joy Division. The lyrics are just as minimal. Alan wrote four lines in total, but somehow they speak volumes in their simplicity. Hearing “Drag” again, I want Mimi to be back. Alan’s artistry and musicianship are far better with her by his side.

“I'm sorry but I can't hold on. It works much better if I let it drag me around.”

"TELL" THE RADIO DEPT. (2006)

I started Mental Jukebox nearly three years ago at the beginning of the pandemic. During this time, I’ve discovered new music, rediscovered old favorites and I’ve met passionate music fans around the world. And when things opened up, I kept on blogging. This month, the jukebox goes deeper. The term “deep cut” has multiple meanings. It can refer to lesser known album tracks from well-known artists. It can also refer to tracks from lesser known artists. This month, I’ll be featuring both types. #DeepCutsFeb

Putting The Radio Dept.’s first two full-length albums side by side – Lesser Matters and Pet Grief – I have trouble saying which one I like better. They are quite different from each other. The band’s debut album has more guitars, more of that characteristics shoegaze distortion and fuzz, and more variations. But the remarkable consistency between the tracks on their sophomore release is Pet Grief’s biggest strength and it’s what makes it such a great listen from beginning to end in one sitting. Just as critical to the overall sound as the early tracks are the ones that bring up the rear of the record, including “Tell”.

That dream pop essence is captured so poignantly in those high synthesizer single notes that seem to soar wistfully and tragically at the same time. As with many of the other tracks on Pet Grief, the synthesizers are king here and the guitar plays a secondary role, complementing the atmosphere and textures defined on the keys. The “Tell” is perfect for slow, lazy afternoons. Perfect for rainy days. Just perfect, in general.

“Will you keep this up, As long as you can if I don't make it stop?”

"ISLANDS" THE XX (2009)

Electronic albums play a huge role in my fascination with music. For me, synthesizers and drum machines aren’t better or worse than live drums and guitars. They’re just different. They make music much more imaginative for me. I think Nick Rhodes’ synth parts on those early Duran Duran albums were some of my first loves. Shimmery one moment, jarring the next. Rhodes’ keyboard flourishes changed the complexion of every song. This month, I’m featuring my Top 15 electronic albums along with one featured track.

Album: XX (2009)

In 2009, the XX’s debut album was released, introducing a sound that seemed to fill a clear void. The music was minimalist in every way. Almost shockingly minimalist. Sparse in instrumentation, the melodies thrived in space. XX mastered pregnant pauses and the power of stripped-down riffs and notes. And the album cover reflected back this stark simplicity. Looking back at the album release, “Intro” was probably their most well-known song. It was the track that caught my attention, but “Islands” was the track that made me a believer.

“Islands” is an unassuming track that reeled me in with its simple groove and quiet strength. It was never a threat to be over-produced. There’s a tremendous confidence in how it was composed, clearing the way for Romy Croft and Oliver Sim to deliver the vocals. Like lovers lying in bed whispering sweet nothings, “Islands” had an unexpected vocal approach, treating it like words between two lovers who have sworn loyalty. They’re singing to each other, not to us. The guitar and synth interludes remind us that skill and complexity aren’t everything. Sometimes, the best musical arrangements place an equal emphasis on instrumentation and space. “Islands” is all the proof you need.

“SPEND MY NIGHTS AND DAYS BEFORE SEARCHING THE WORLD FOR WHAT'S RIGHT HERE.”

"LORELEI" COCTEAU TWINS (1984)

For the month of October, I’m taking the #OctAtoZBandChallenge challenge. The premise is simple. Pick a band starting with the day’s assigned alphabet letter and then choose a song from that band.

Day 3

The world of Cocteau Twins is one of mesmerizing euphoria. A world where Elizabeth Fraser’s vocals soar like stardust, while Robin Guthrie and Simon Raymonde create these dreamy soundscapes for you to get lost in. These musical expressions would later become some of the early inspiration for shoegaze bands in the decade to follow. Cocteau Twins were way ahead of their time. And yet, their music is still fresh even today. The resilience of albums like Treasure, Blue Bell Knoll and Heaven or Las Vegas cannot be contested. Just listen to “Lorelei” and you’ll know why.

Cocteau Twins have always been more about the mood than the message. Often times, Fraser’s vocals are nearly indecipherable. I couldn’t tell you what “Lorelei” is about – or really what any other Cocteau Twins song is about, for that matter. But I can tell you what it feels like. Imagine being taken up in a cloud and brought into a kingdom of clouds where the sun shines like gold and angels float by you in slow-motion. A band is playing without a stage – just a musical trio in sync and fully buoyant in the bright, bright atmosphere. In other words, “Lorelei” feels a bit like heaven.

“We’re covered by the sacred fire. When you come to me, you come to broke.”

"BRIGHT AS YELLOW" THE INNOCENCE MISSION (1995)

This month, the Mental Jukebox revisits the movie soundtracks of the nineties. The music I’m highlighting are some of my personal favorites. In many cases, the movies themselves were huge for me as well. But the focus will still be on the music – as always. Let’s bring on the throwback classics, the grunge, the gangsta rap, and the indie gems. #31DaysOf90sMovieSongs

Movie: Empire Records

It goes without saying that a movie about music should have really great music. And the Empire Records soundtrack is truly a great album. Stacked top to bottom. Made to listen from beginning to end. But “Bright as Yellow” is the one song that I’ll listen to solo, detached from its soundtrack counterparts. It’s a song easily overlooked by the mid-tempo contributions from The Cranberries and Gin Blossoms as well as the louder, brasher tracks from Edwyn Collins, Cracker and Ape Hangers, among others. But it must not be overlooked. “Bright As Yellow” is a quiet beauty.

It’s a song that creates an immediate warmth and a mood that extends far beyond the reaches of the movie scenes. The kind of song that feels right at home on a warm summer evening or a cold winter night. “Bright As Yellow” can move you with its quiet, understated power whether it’s blasting from your speakers or you’re playing it quietly on your ear buds. Karen Peris’ vocals are inviting and unusual, yet eerily similar to The Sundays’ Harriet Wheeler. Next to her, her husband Don Peris wields his guitar to merge moody with melodic.

“And you live your life with your arms stretched out. Eye to eye when speaking. Enter rooms with great joy shouts. Happy to be meeting.”

"THE EDGE OF FOREVER" THE DREAM ACADEMY (1985)

It’s time to get back to my favorite decade. For the month of March, I’ll be looking back at some of my favorite jams from the 80s. These songs often came to me via MTV or the radio. NYC-area stations WDRE, WPLJ, WNEW, K-ROCK and Z100 introduced me to everything from irresistible pop confections to under-the-radar post-punk anthems. I would not be who I am today if it weren’t for the 80s. It was the decade when I discovered music can be a truly powerful thing. #31DaysOf80sSongs

In the States, The Dream Academy was a band that made a brief, but significant splash with their unique interpretation of early dream pop. You could tell which songs were Dream Academy songs by their ethereal and accessible brand of synth pop. “Life In A Northern Town” transported us to a time and place that seemed surreal. “The Salvation Army band played. And the children drunk lemonade. And the morning lasted all day.” Their cover of The Smiths’ “Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want” was a lighter, more buoyant version of the somber original. And then there was their minor hit: “The Edge Of Forever”.

The song may not have received an ounce of publicity if it weren’t for an unforgettable scene toward the end of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. While Ferris Bueller may have immortalized the track, there are a few things about “The Edge Of Forever” that marks it as a true relic of that generation on its own merits. Like “Life In A Northern Town”, the production helped the song to paint a picture. Co-produced by David Gilmour, this one was steeped in euphoric romanticism. It borrowed signature 80’s elements like a sax solo and synth-based instrumentation, but it did so in a way that wasn’t contrived or too familiar. Here, The Dream Academy created a dream state that you could easily get lost in.

“There's a million hearts beating in a row.”

"LORELEI" COCTEAU TWINS (1984)

It’s time to get back to my favorite decade. For the month of March, I’ll be looking back at some of my favorite jams from the 80s. These songs often came to me via MTV or the radio. NYC-area stations WDRE, WPLJ, WNEW, K-ROCK and Z100 introduced me to everything from irresistible pop confections to under-the-radar post-punk anthems. I would not be who I am today if it weren’t for the 80s. It was the decade when I discovered music can be a truly powerful thing. #31DaysOf80sSongs

The world of Cocteau Twins is one of mesmerizing euphoria. A world where Elizabeth Fraser’s vocals soar like stardust, while Robin Guthrie and Simon Raymonde create these dreamy soundscapes for you to get lost in. These musical expressions would later become some of the early inspiration for shoegaze bands in the decade to follow. Cocteau Twins were way ahead of their time. And yet, their music is still fresh even today. The resilience of albums like Treasure, Blue Bell Knoll and Heaven or Las Vegas cannot be contested. Just listen to “Lorelei” and you’ll know why.

Cocteau Twins have always been more about the mood than the message. Often times, Fraser’s vocals are nearly indecipherable. I couldn’t tell you what “Lorelei” is about – or really what any other Cocteau Twins song is about, for that matter. But I can tell you what it feels like. Imagine being taken up in a cloud and brought into a kingdom of clouds where the sun shines like gold and angels float by you in slow-motion. A band is playing without a stage – just a musical trio in sync and fully buoyant in the bright, bright atmosphere. In other words, “Lorelei” feels a bit like heaven.

“We’re covered by the sacred fire. When you come to me, you come to broke.”

"SUNFLOWER" LOW (2001)

Each day in December, I’ll be reflecting back on a song from the 2000’s. The decade saw the return of post-punk and the popularization of folk music, all while some of music’s biggest acts gained their indie footing. Thankfully, it’s a period that I can look back at fondly without cringing. #31DaysOf2000sSongs

The holiday season is typically fast-paced and hectic for me. But, in many facets of life I’ve been taking deliberate steps to slow down, to reflect a little more and to savor the good things during these challenging times. Part of this personal journey has been reclaiming an appreciation for quieter, slower jams. This has included everything from folk to country to dream pop. While the band Low is one of those artists that I feel like I’ve barely scratched the surface with, the song “Sunflower” is among a few of their more well-known tracks that eggs me on to listen more.

Like many Low tracks, “Sunflower” is shockingly minimal and nearly naked before us. It’s a case of less is more. With such stark, simple instrumentation, all focus is on the melody and Alan Sparhawk and Mimi Parker’s hauntingly beautiful harmonies. The simple downward guitar strum patterns and isolated snare hits only enhance the mood. “Sunflower” is dark, melancholic and tremendously gorgeous in its quiet lament – a welcome track to get lost in as a difficult year comes to an end.

“With my half of the ransom I bought some sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet sunflowers and gave them to the night.”

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

Each day in December, I’ll be reflecting back on a song from the 2000’s. The decade saw the return of post-punk and the popularization of folk music, all while some of music’s biggest acts gained their indie footing. Thankfully, it’s a period that I can look back at fondly without cringing. #31DaysOf2000sSongs

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, brash guitar riffs and hard edges. 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.”

"ISLANDS" THE XX (2009)

Each day in December, I’ll be reflecting back on a song from the 2000’s. The decade saw the return of post-punk and the popularization of folk music, all while some of music’s biggest acts gained their indie footing. Thankfully, it’s a period that I can look back at fondly without cringing. #31DaysOf2000sSongs

In 2009, the XX’s debut album was released, introducing a sound that seemed to fill a clear void. The music was minimalist in every way. Almost shockingly minimalist. Sparse in instrumentation, the melodies thrived in space. XX mastered pregnant pauses and the power of stripped-down riffs and notes. And the album cover reflected back this stark simplicity. Looking back at the album release, “Intro” was probably their most well-known song. It was the track that caught my attention, but “Islands” was the track that made me a believer.

“Islands” is an unassuming track that reeled me in with its simple groove and quiet strength. It was never a threat to be over-produced. There’s a tremendous confidence in how it was composed, clearing the way for Romy Croft and Oliver Sim to deliver the vocals. Like lovers lying in bed whispering sweet nothings, “Islands” had an unexpected vocal approach, treating it like words between two lovers who have sworn loyalty. They’re singing to each other, not to us. The guitar and synth interludes remind us that skill and complexity aren’t everything. Sometimes, the best musical arrangements place an equal emphasis on instrumentation and space. “Islands” is all the proof you need.

“Spend my nights and days before searching the world for what's right here.”

"LIGHT FROM A DEAD STAR" LUSH (1994)

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

One of my favorite bands from the 90’s shoegaze era is Lush. They made songs that I could get lost in. However, there was a sense of grounding that I felt in their catalog, even as the songs were resolutely ethereal and atmospheric. That grounding took the form of bass lines that stood clearly as rhythmic cornerstones and more pop-oriented melodies that you could sing along to a cappella. One of the clearest examples of these musical attributes is “Light From A Dead Star.”

As the opening track to the 1994 release Split, “Light From A Dead Star” consists of four key movements. The first one is a gorgeous overture that sounds like an orchestra tuning up before a shoegaze concerto. The second movement is a brief interlude before the song launches into the stratosphere, beginning like the opening bars to Depeche Mode’s “Black Celebration” before settling into a mid-tempo cloud of listlessness. The third movement is where the dead star illuminates at its brightest, riding on the rhythmic bed of Chris Acland’s drum kit and Phil King’s meandering bass lines. By the fourth movement, the light begins to flicker out, sounding like a star on life support. Absolutely frail and gorgeous.

“Don't listen when they say they wish I could stay. And now it's just too late to wish me back again.”

"40 DAYS" SLOWDIVE (1993)

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

Shoegaze is a genre that literally took me decades to appreciate. I’ve always loved its atmospheric predecessors, like the Cocteau Twins, The Cure and Siouxsie & the Banshees. But once bands like My Bloody Valentine and Lush started blending various sounds to a nearly indecipherable blur, I was ready to peace out. I loved hearing the distinct instrumental contributions of every band member. As I’ve gotten older, that mindset has changed. When Japanese Breakfast’s Michelle Zauner interviewed Sopranos actor Michael Imperioli, the actor stated that he loved Shoegaze because it creates a world for the listener to get lost in. This is exactly what I like about it now — particularly with Slowdive’s “40 Days”.

Like on many Slowdive tracks, the vocals, guitars, bass, drums and keyboards are blended into a euphoric smoothie. You can’t tell one instrument from the other. The band members are one, creating a beautiful, sonic daydream. But what makes “40 Days” a little different from the majority of the Slowdive catalog is the prominence of its infectious melody. For once, it seemed like the sounds were all riding the blissful wave of the melody, instead of the other way around.

“It's the summer I'm thinking of. 40 days and I'm blown away.”

"HEAVEN OR LAS VEGAS" COCTEAU TWINS (1990)

For the second half of September, I’m putting my Mental Jukebox into a time machine, featuring the best songs on the best albums from the very best years of music. #70sThrough90sBestAlbum

It’s a shame more people don’t know the remarkable beauty and ingenuity of Cocteau Twins. The Heaven or Las Vegas album may have been their most well-known effort, but it still soars blissfully under the radar after all these years. The band helped create the soundscaped genre of dream pop much like how My Bloody Valentine helped shape the shoegaze equivalent. The title track, in particular, is one of my favorite Cocteau tracks to get lost in.

“Heaven or Las Vegas” emanates and enlightens. It could’ve made the darkest recesses of the earth sound euphoric. Elizabeth Fraser, once again, sounded more angelic than human. The swirling synths are practically hypnotizing, while the guitar holds you in a steady trance with these gorgeous cascading arpeggios and soaring riffs. Clocking in at nearly five minutes, “Heaven or Las Vegas” has become a shining example, not just of dream pop, but of any soundscape genre.

“I want to love. I've all the wrong glory.”

"ONLY SHALLOW" MY BLOODY VALENTINE (1991)

On Mental Jukebox, I try to include some of the influential acts in music history. Not necessarily the most prolific or most successful bands. But ones that redefined music and inspired future artists and genres. It was just a matter of time that I would feature a My Bloody Valentine song. “Only Shallow” was a perfect expression of shimmering, textural soundscapes. You don’t so much listen to it as you let it wash over you.

“Where she won't dare. Anyway (where). Look in the mirror. She's not there. Where she won't care. Somewhere.”