"GETTING AWAY WITH IT" ELECTRONIC (1991)

As an eighties kid, synth pop has been pumping in my blood ever since that first day I turned on my MTV. There’s some debate as to who’s considered a synth pop band and who isn’t. For this September Music Twitter challenge – #SynthPopSeptember – I’m focusing more on what’s considered synth pop, not who. The songs I’m featuring on Mental Jukebox this month aren’t solely composed of synthesizers. There may be drums, bass, and dare I say, electric guitars. But each of these songs were picked because the synthesizer is core to its being.

I recently gained new perspective on the forming of supergroup Electronic from Peter Hook’s New Order memoir, Substance. It’s clear that New Order’s sound was becoming more and more synth-driven. What I didn’t realize was how significant the musical and personal tensions were between Barney and Hooky. Through this new lens, Electronic seems almost like a rebound fling. Barney escaping to pursue more of what he wants with the synths – and Johnny Marr fresh off the heels of The Smiths breakup. There is beauty in the chaos though, right? “Getting Away With It” is a perfect example.

Johnny Marr is playing guitars on this one, but the majority of the album’s focus is on the synthesizers. Electronic is the name of the band, after all. “Getting Away With It” was like a breath of fresh air on my beloved radio station WDRE. I listened to it incessantly, Barney’s vocals were as good as they’ve ever been. The melody fit his everyday tone perfectly. Neil Tenant’s distinct backing vocals were like the icing on the cake. And let’s not forget the synth riffs, one of Barney’s more underrated skills as a band member – whether he’s the frontman or co-leading.

“However I look, it's clear to see That I love you more than you love me.”

"PORCELAIN" MOBY (1999)

For the next 30 days, I’ll be taking the #AprilAcrossAmerica challenge, picking one song a day as I make my way across the country and across genres at the same time.

Day 4: Fairfield County, CT

My early experience with Moby’s music consisted of devouring “techno” CD compilations and attending the occasional rave. These middle-of-the-night dance parties were fueled by Moby’s electronic vision. They were fun times. But it wasn’t until Moby released Play that I appreciated not just how his music made me move, but how it made me feel. From the first moment I heard Play, I just thought it was one the finest, fullest albums ever recorded, from top to bottom – rewriting elements of soul, funk, gospel and classical, just to name a few of the genres. “Porcelain” is one of the standouts from this breakthrough album.

This is the one track I always want to hear first. Delicate. Gorgeous. Soulful. Not rave Moby. This was a totally different side we hadn’t heard before. And it almost didn’t make it onto the album. Moby’s manager had to convince him this song was more than just “average”. Moby reluctantly agreed to include it. Thank God. Unlike many of the other tracks on Play, “Porcelain” relies mainly on its original synth compositions, not samples. There are still samples, but it’s Moby’s angelic keyboard wanderings and symphony-like chords that steal the show every single time.

“IN MY DREAMS I'M DYING ALL THE TIME. THEN I WAKE IT'S KALEIDOSCOPIC MIND. I NEVER MEANT TO HURT YOU. I NEVER MEANT TO LIE.”

"NEW DAWN FADES" MOBY (1994)

This month, I’m looking back at movies and tv shows to rediscover songs that graced the screen. The scenes and the music are inseparable. They’re engrained in our heads and our hearts. And they’re proof that the best music we have doesn’t exist in isolation. It attaches itself to a moment or an experience. #SceneSongs

Movie: Heat

Heat is one of my all-time favorite movies. It’s not just a crime thriller. It’s the story of how hate and respect can indeed co-exist. It’s a reminder that we might have a lot more in common with our enemies than we might dare think. And few movies capture the dark, ominous and isolating veneer of L.A. as powerfully and as beautifully as Heat. Michael Mann needed an equally ominous soundscape, which he found in Moby’s cover of Joy Division’s “New Dawn Fades”. It’s the musical background for an unforgettable chase scene. When Pacino catches up to De Niro, he doesn’t take him in for questioning. He takes him to coffee.

While Joy Division’s original felt like it played out inside a dark cellar, Moby’s version sprawls across the L.A. cityscape. There’s an expansiveness felt in the performance and the production. The guitar riff soars up while the bass notes descend down. Can anybody be on the same level as Ian Curtis? Maybe not. But Moby certainly fared well in getting inside Curtis’ skin and into his shoes for a few epic, haunting minutes. I can’t think of a better track to rear its head as Heat neared its climax.

“WE'LL GIVE YOU EVERYTHING AND MORE. THE STRAIN IS TOO MUCH, CAN'T TAKE MUCH MORE.”

"MR. DISCO" NEW ORDER (1989)

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: Technique (1989)

There are two sides to one of my favorite bands of all time, New Order. There’s the rock-based side, which has always been my preference. There, the band relies mainly on Hooky’s melodic bass lines, Sumner’s contributions on guitar and Stephen Morris on live drums. Then there’s the dance rock side where Stephen typically joins his wife on keyboards and sequencers and the drum machines kick in for a more electronic aesthetic. Technique undoubtedly is an example of the latter, born out of the group’s time in Ibiza, soaking in the rays during the day and the club scene at night. While it’s not my favorite side of the band’s sound, I believe Technique is New Order’s most cohesive and consistent album. Every track could’ve been a single, including the fan favorite, “Mr. Disco”.

The track starts with that throbbing, sputtering synth bass line with Hooky’s own electric bass line humbly – and perhaps resistantly – taking a backseat by dotting the club-like landscape in the background. The band wastes little time getting to Sumner’s catchy melody and lyrics, affirming his ability to write lasting pop songs with the best of ‘em. But Gillian is the star here, concocting not just one irresistible synth hook, not two, not three, but four. “Mr. Disco” is surprisingly resilient over thirty years later.

"PORCELAIN" MOBY (1999)

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: Play (1999)

My early experience with Moby’s music consisted of devouring “techno” CD compilations and attending the occasional rave. These middle-of-the-night dance parties were fueled by Moby’s electronic vision. They were fun times. But it wasn’t until Moby released Play that I appreciated not just how his music made me move, but how it made me feel. From the first moment I heard Play, I just thought it was one the finest, fullest albums ever recorded, from top to bottom – rewriting elements of soul, funk, gospel and classical, just to name a few of the genres. “Porcelain” is one of the standouts from this breakthrough album.

This is the one track I always want to hear first. Delicate. Gorgeous. Soulful. Not rave Moby. This was a totally different side we hadn’t heard before. And it almost didn’t make it onto the album. Moby’s manager had to convince him this song was more than just “average”. Moby reluctantly agreed to include it. Thank God. Unlike many of the other tracks on Play, “Porcelain” relies mainly on its original synth compositions, not samples. There are still samples, but it’s Moby’s angelic keyboard wanderings and symphony-like chords that steal the show every single time.

“In my dreams I'm dying all the time. Then I wake it's kaleidoscopic mind. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to lie.”

"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.”

"MER DU JAPON" AIR (2007)

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: Pocket Symphony (2007)

Air built its momentum from soundtracks off of three Sofia Coppola films: The Virgin Suicides, Lost in Translation and Marie Antoinette. They are chill-out at times and dance floor-ready at other times. But all of their musical output is subtle, intricate and sophisticated no matter which end of the electronic spectrum they choose to lean into. Pocket Symphony is one of my favorite Air albums because it adds an unexpected layer of traditional Japanese instruments beyond the drum machines, synthesizers and assorted percussion instruments that are part of Air’s known arsenal. My favorite track off the album is “Mer Du Japon”.

Rather appropriately, many Air tracks create a sense of buoyancy and depth. On “Mer Du Japon”, it feels like we’re cruising along the surface of the Japanese Sea at breakneck speeds in one moment, diving deep toward the sea floor in another, and gasping for air in another. The koto, a Japanese floor harp, joins forces with the shimmery synth waves, pristine piano arpeggios and menacing bass line. The sound of waves sashaying along the shoreline can be faintly heard toward the end, signifying that our little trip has also come to an end. We have reached land.

“J'EN PERDS LA RAISON DANS LA MER DU JAPON.”

"PEARL'S GIRL" UNDERWORLD (1996)

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: The Saint Soundtrack (1996)

There may not be another soundtrack with as unified a vision as The Saint’s. The album was nearly all-electronic by design, featuring Orbital, Moby, The Chemical Brothers as well as lesser electronic-inclined artists like David Bowie and Duncan Sheik. The album, as a whole, jacks up its collection of musical notes on steroids. I’ve already paid homage to Bowie’s “Dead Man Walking” in an earlier post on Mental Jukebox, so this time I’ll go with the frenetic, relentless “Pearl’s Girl” from electronic masters Underworld.

“Pearl’s Girl” comes at you in attack mode, swarming your ears from every angle like a helicopter raid. It even sounds like a fleet of helicopters are hovering over the track from beginning to end. The drums are like machine guns, loading and reloading and unleashing, while the samples take over like brainwashing devices. Ever have one of those days where you just need to let it all out? Turning up “Pearl’s Girl” at full blast might help with that.

"SO FLUTE" ST. GERMAIN (2000)

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: Tourist (2000)

I don’t know how I first stumbled upon St. Germain. It was probably a friend who introduced me, although it sounds like music that could’ve easily seeped through the speakers at a cafe or at a Uniqlo. Maybe I should hate it because of that, but I can’t deny how fascinating I find his music to be. Its heart is electronic, but its soul is analog – comprised of brass, woodwinds and not your typical percussion elements. I love all of Tourist, but “So Flute” is still my favorite track to this day.

Outside of the orchestra woodwind section, you have to go way back to find anything that uses the flute as memorably as “So Flute”. Like Jethro Tull / Genesis / Peter Gabriel-way back. Hearing this track 20 years after it was recorded, I’m amazed at how well it holds up. The best compliment I can give “So Flute” is that it feels like it could’ve been recorded this year. That’s how timeless it is. Back in 2000, St. Germain made people who had no previous interest in flutes start to see the possibilities. Myself included.

"DA FUNK" DAFT PUNK (1997)

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: Homework (1997)

I’ve already covered French synth-pop earlier in my Electronic LP Top 15. Now it’s time for some French house from the motorcycle helmet-clad duo Daft Punk. In 1997, there was a New York City club called Au Bar that my crew frequented quite a bit. When I say “frequented”, I mean going Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday night within one week wasn’t exactly unheard of. We devoured the music. Daft Punk was a big part of that scene. The debut album introduced us to a genre that most of us didn’t know even existed. It was the soundtrack for our nights for the next couple of years until we all settled down and got girlfriends. One of those tracks was “Da Funk”.

A simple, repetitive synth hook that goes on repeat dozens of times. Driving, bass-heavy break beats. Electromagnetic treble chords. And not much else. The beauty of “Da Funk” is that it wasn’t overly complex. This minimalist approach had a way of making you feel it so viscerally. And what is music’s job to do other than allow you to feel it and experience it. Back at Au Bar, that’s all it was to us. And “Da Funk”, “Around the World”, “One More Time” and countless other Daft Punk tracks served their purpose. But what we didn’t realize was how pioneering the French duo was at the time, and how influential they would become.

"EL PICO" RATATAT (2004)

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. #15ElectronicLPs

Album: Ratatat (2004)

The world of Ratatat is a lot like video games. I’m not much of a gamer, but something about the music from this Brooklyn duo reminds me of the prodding and pacing and occasional explosiveness inside video game worlds. The music even sounds pixelated, like blips, beats and bits of animation that form together to create something mesmerizing. One of my favorite instrumental albums of all time, Ratatat’s self-titled debut album was an instant favorite of mind – and “El Pico” is still a track I turn to again and again.

Speaking of video games, “El Pico” seems almost perfect as a video game soundtrack. The progression from the instrumental “verse” section to the instrumental “chorus” section captures the rewarding feeling of slugging it out and earning one’s way to a battle with the boss. Ratatat accomplishes this feat with drum machines and synthesizers. Electronic bands have come and gone. But to this day, there’s nothing else that sounds like Ratatat, and likely there never will be.

"CLOSE TO ME (CLOSEST MIX)" THE CURE (1990)

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. #15ElectronicLPs

Album: Mixed Up (1990)

Hardly ever mentioned among the great Cure albums, Mixed Up was an oddity. It rode off the sweeping momentum of Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me and Disintegration, but never came close in terms of its significance in the greater Cure canon. For many fans, it was an album that we were preoccupied with for a short period of time and then we forgot about it just like that. The Cure, by nature, is far from an electronic band. Their emphasis on multiple guitars and live drums affirms this. But on Mixed Up, they gave their previous un-electronic staples an electronic feel. One of the best from this remix collection is “Close To Me (Closest Mix)”.

If you needed to validate the electronic prowess of this particular remix, all you need to do is name-check. The Cure enlisted the help of Paul Oakenfold on this Head On The Door classic. This is a delightful remake of an already delightful song. It proves that you don’t need to completely deconstruct a song to get a strong remix result. This one focused on replacing the sugary drum beat with a electronic, house-infused percussion. The unforgettable bass line is sharpened and turned up to help solidify the house vibes. “Close To Me (Closest Mix): and the entire Mixed Up album bring back fond memories of musical discovery and imagination during my high school years.

“I never thought that this day would end. I never thought that tonight could ever be This close to me.”

"CRIPS" RATATAT (2004)

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 18

The debut album from Ratatat was like a rabbit hole for me. A journey to discover a new electronic expression where guitars are still relevant. They are almost computerized for the better. And rhythms are highly infectious, yet super simple. And the tracks are largely all instrumental. That was the Ratatat formula. Over the years, that formula has largely stayed intact from the start. It all began with an unexpected debut album – and “Crips” was one of the key tracks.

It all starts and ends with the synth work. On “Crips”, the synth chords and riffs are simultaneously mesmerizing and invigorating. I always felt like the song was ushering me into some kind of new dimension with a different space and time. At the 2:30 mark, the distinctive bass line takes things over and ushers the listener back from the new dimension into reality. It’s a short, memorable, unexpected trip that you never have to plan for.

"DA FUNK" DAFT PUNK (1997)

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 4

Now I’m bringing things back to early Daft Punk. When French house was taking form. And Daft Punk was already ruling the dance floor. In 1997, there was a New York City club called Au Bar that my crew frequented quite a bit. When I say “frequented”, I mean going Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday night within one week wasn’t exactly unheard of. We devoured the music. Daft Punk was a big part of that scene. The debut album introduced us to French house, a genre that most of us didn’t know even existed. It was the soundtrack for our nights for the next couple of years until we all settled down and got girlfriends. One of those tracks was “Da Funk”.

Simple synth hooks. Driving, bass-heavy break beats. Electromagnetic treble chords. And not much else. The beauty of “Da Funk” is that it wasn’t overly complex. This minimalist approach had a way of making you feel it so viscerally. And what is music’s job to do than allow you to feel it and experience it. Back at Au Bar, that’s all it was to us. And “Da Funk”, “Around the World”, “One More Time” and countless other Daft Punk tracks served their purpose. But what we didn’t realize was how pioneering the French duo was at the time, and how influential they would become.

"MER DU JAPON" AIR (2007)

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 1

Air got its leggings from soundtracks off of three Sofia Coppola films: The Virgin Suicides, Lost in Translation and Marie Antoinette. They are chill-out at times and dance floor-ready at other times. But all of their musical output is subtle, intricate and sophisticated no matter which end of the electronic spectrum they choose to lean into. Pocket Symphony is one of my favorite Air albums because it adds an unexpected layer of traditional Japanese instruments beyond the drum machines, synthesizers and assorted percussion instruments that are part of Air’s known arsenal. My favorite track off the album is “Mer Du Japon”.

Rather appropriately, many Air tracks create a sense of buoyancy and depth. On “Mer Du Japon”, it feels like we’re cruising along the surface of the Japanese Sea at breakneck speeds in one moment, diving deep toward the sea floor in another, and gasping for air in another. The koto, a Japanese floor harp, joins forces with the shimmery synth waves, pristine piano arpeggios and menacing bass line. The sound of waves sashaying along the shoreline can be faintly heard toward the end, signifying that our little trip has also come to an end. We have reached land.

“J'en perds la raison dans la mer du Japon.”

"DEAD MAN WALKING" DAVID BOWIE (1997)

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: The Saint

Few soundtracks have the cohesion felt and heard on The Saint. It took very different artists — Bowie, Moby, Duran Duran, Duncan Sheik, Daft Punk, The Chemical Brothers, Luscious Jackson, among others — and somehow miraculously put them all together on the same sonic wavelength. There are a ton of great tracks on the album. But my favorite is still Bowie’s “Dead Man Walking”. Fans have often commented that the eighties were not Bowie’s best years. But it appears that in the nineties, the famed artist had regained his form.

As we’ve seen throughout his career, Bowie evolved with each recording — always changing, but always distinctly Bowie. With “Dead Man Walking”, his music went into hyperdrive. There are a ton of delicious electronic layers to this thing. And while it works marvelously as an electronic symphony, something in me wants to pick out and isolate each individual layer. Each one captures the mood and frenetic pace of the film in its own unique way. One of those layers is a guitar riff that Jimmy Page handed over to Bowie on a platter. Page said: “I've got this riff and I can't do anything with it. Do you want it?” Bowie answered the call.

“And I'm gone through a crack in the past like a dead man walking.”

"NEW DAWN FADES" MOBY (1994)

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: Heat

Heat is one of my all-time favorite movies. It’s not just a crime thriller. It’s the story of how hate and respect can indeed co-exist. It’s a reminder that we might have a lot more in common with our enemies than we might dare think. And few movies capture the dark, ominous and isolating veneer of L.A. as powerfully and as beautifully as Heat. Michael Mann needed an equally ominous soundscape, which he found in Moby’s cover of Joy Division’s “New Dawn Fades”.

While Joy Division’s original felt like it played out inside a dark cellar, Moby’s version sprawls across the L.A. cityscape. There’s an expansiveness felt in the performance and the production. The guitar riff soars up while the bass notes descend down. Can anybody be on the same level as Ian Curtis? Maybe not. But Moby certainly fared well in getting inside Curtis’ skin and into his shoes for a few epic, haunting minutes. I can’t think of a better track to rear its head as Heat neared its climax.

“We'll give you everything and more. The strain is too much, can't take much more.”

"MY GIRLS" ANIMAL COLLECTIVE (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

For several decades, various bands have often been compared to the creme de la creme. Are you progressive enough like early Floyd? Can you combine various genres like Hendrix? Can you write melodies and experiment instrumentally like The Beach Boys? The latter comparison seems to be one of the most common ones. Seems like the minute Pet Sounds was released, critics wanted to see who could match it or even exceed it. Merriweather Post Pavilion certainly has earned a right to be in those discussions. It’s like a modern-day Pet Sounds and “My Girls” is Animal Collective’s own “That’s Not Me”.

The song opens with an audio sample from the Cassini-Hyugens spacecraft which explored Saturn, its rings and its moons. From there, the iconic and mesmerizing synth hook trickles in like a waterfall. The percussion elements are sparse, but powerful with every hit. The primary strength of “My Girls” is undoubtedly the vocals. The verses are sung in rounds. The buildup into the chorus features these background falsetto blips. And the chorus is anchored by Panda Bear and Avey Tare’s harmonies. A song about family and settling down, “My Girls” is experimental to the bone, as evident in its instrumentation, vocals and song structure. It is truly deserving of the lofty Pet Sounds comparisons it drew.

“I just want four walls and adobe slabs for my girls.”

"MER DU JAPON" AIR (2007)

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

Air got its leggings from soundtracks off of three Sofia Coppola films: The Virgin Suicides, Lost in Translation and Marie Antoinette. They are chill-out at times and dance floor-ready at other times. But all of their musical output is subtle, intricate and sophisticated no matter which end of the electronic spectrum they choose to lean into. Pocket Symphony is one of my favorite Air albums because it adds an unexpected layer of traditional Japanese instruments beyond the drum machines, synthesizers and assorted percussion instruments that are part of Air’s known arsenal. My favorite track off the album is “Mer Du Japon”.

Rather appropriately, many Air tracks create a sense of buoyancy and depth. On “Mer Du Japon”, it feels like we’re cruising along the surface of the Japanese Sea at breakneck speeds in one moment, diving deep toward the sea floor in another, and gasping for air in another. The koto, a Japanese floor harp, joins forces with the shimmery synth waves, pristine piano arpeggios and menacing bass line. The sound of waves sashaying along the shoreline can be faintly heard toward the end, signifying that our little trip has also come to an end. We have reached land.

“J'en perds la raison dans la mer du Japon.”

"GO" MOBY (1991)

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

The funny thing about music is that it will often get you to do things you thought you’d never do. The first time I really discovered this truth was probably in college. In my freshman year, I went to a Mighty Mighty Bosstones show at Boston’s The Middle East. Despite weighing maybe a buck twenty-five dripping wet at the time, something in that ska-drenched room told me to rush into the mosh pit. Not once, not twice, but several times. I came out of that mosh pit unscathed and utterly liberated. Fast forward to sophomore year, and I was ready for my next unexpected experience, led by Moby’s “Go”.

The legendary techno track was literally begging me to go. Where? To the rave. I was so hooked by this track and its peers that I went for it. My friends were somewhat impressed that I was able to scrounge up some threads worthy of a rave night. And so I boarded a yellow school bus that picked us up in Cleveland Circle on a Saturday night. It drove us off into the night to an abandoned health club on the outskirts of Boston. The glass-encased racquetball courts became chill rooms, and the gymnasium was our giant dance floor. I skipped on the recreational supplements, but I let the music carry me away. The night was headlined by Moby’s “Go” and several other tracks that I surrendered my heart until dawn. Like the mosh pit at the Middle East, I was once again liberated by this driving, unrelenting Moby classic.