"SOME GIRLS ARE BIGGER THAN OTHERS" THE SMITHS (1986)

You can get off to a fast start. You can sustain your opener with the main course, not filler. But can you end on a high note? Sometimes I wonder if recording a strong closer is the most difficult thing to pull off when it comes to album rock. When it comes to the cream of the crop in music, I can think of more strong openers than strong closers. Nonetheless, I still have my favorites which I’ll be featuring on Mental Jukebox all month.

I’ve written a few times before about the impact that The Queen Is Dead has had on my experience as a music fan. Hearing it for the first time was transformative. It was an album that I had to listen to from beginning to end from the moment I picked up my cassette at Tower Records that fateful Saturday evening. This is very much attributed to the strength of every track and the sequence in which they appear. The Queen Is Dead starts out with a banger and then takes the listener on a rollicky journey of mid-tempo, slow ballads, bangers and then culminates unexpectedly with the iconic closer “Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others”.

The track picks up here where Morrissey left off with the historical references earlier in the album. With Keats, Yeats and Wilder in “Cemetry Gates” and Joan of Arc in “Bigmouth Strikes Again”, The Smiths rewrite the textbooks one more time in “Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others” – this time with Anthony and Cleopatra. The lyrics are powerful in their witty, imaginative state. The music is unexpected with fade-ins and fade-outs on the volume and as expectantly jangly as we want it to be with Marr’s melodic guitar riff. It’s not my favorite Smiths anthem, but it is my favorite closer from these Manchester boys.

“As Anthony said to Cleopatra As he opened a crate of ale: ‘Oh I say, Some girls are bigger than others’.”

"THE QUEEN IS DEAD" THE SMITHS (1986)

Great album openers get the listeners to keep on listening. They can do this in any number of ways. Some openers set the tone by easing us in. Others jump right in and blow our minds from the very beginning. A great album opener isn’t an easy thing to create. More than a great song, it’s all about the sequence. Track 1 has to be the perfect starter. This month, I’m highlighting my favorites. #AlbumOpeningSongs

Before I got my Queen is Dead cassette on that fateful Saturday evening at Tower Records, I already knew the more well-known songs: “Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others”, “The Boy With The Thorn in His Side”, “Bigmouth Strikes Again” and, of course, “There is a Light That Never Goes Out”. But, hearing the entire album was a completely different experience. From the very beginning, it was an album that I had to listen to from beginning to end. Perfectly sequenced with not a lackluster track on either side, The Queen is Dead opened with a banger: the song of the same name.

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.

“Past the pub that saps your body. And the church who'll snatch your money. The Queen is dead, boys. And it's so lonely on a limb.”

"FINEST WORKSONG" R.E.M. (1987)

I generally gravitate to the music first before the lyrics. But as a writer, I still marvel at well-spun verses and choruses. This month, I’m joining the music Twitter community in #SeptSongLyricChallenge

Day 29

I miss 80’s R.E.M. It seems the band has seen a recent resurgence. And as music fans recall some of the band’s greatest moments, I’m reminded how deep and prolific their catalog was. Murmur, Reckoning, and Fables of the Reconstruction are all classics. But my favorite album from the band is Document – and “Finest Worksong” is my favorite track from the record. Up until Document, R.E.M. made a name for themselves on college rock radio stations as mid-tempo rockers. But on Document, they expressed that mid-tempo agenda with a variety of intensities and sonic power. “Finest Worksong” is an ode to doing what we gotta do, and sometimes that’s all you can ask for in a rock song.

“Take your instinct by the reins. Better best to rearrange. What we want and what we need has been confused, been confused.”

"FOOL'S GOLD" THE STONE ROSES (1989)

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: Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels

The Stone Roses was one of those bands that made me want to be in a band myself. They didn’t last long, but for a couple of years, it seemed like they were almost larger than life. They paved new musical territory and are considered by many to be the catalysts of the Madchester scene. The debut album is one of my Top Ten albums of all time, and several of the songs are among some of my favorites. At the top of that list is the infectious “Fools Gold”.

Highly unusual, the album version of the song clocked in at nearly ten minutes. It was the last song on the debut album, serving as the coda to a brilliant record. It was all funk, all beats. While many rhythm sections do their thing in the background, Mani and Reni were often thrusted into the foreground — and “Fools Gold” was their song. The bass line cascades down and the trippy snare hits are relentless. John Squire adds the funk with his wah-wah effects while Ian Brown murmurs a story about the unlikely perils of searching for gold with friends. Every song on the band’s debut album seemed to be a brash statement — and on “Fools Gold” the band used the rhythm to deliver it.

“Sometimes you have to try to get along dear. I know the truth and I know what you're thinking.”

"ODE TO MY FAMILY" THE CRANBERRIES (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

The great paradox of The Cranberries is this: While they seemed right at home in the 90’s alternative music scene, at the same time no one else sounded like them. Nobody. Then again, most rock singers don’t yodel. And most rock band’s can’t fluctuate with ease in a single album from apocalyptic bangers like “Zombie” to jangly strut fests like “Ridiculous Thoughts” to one of the most unrock & roll songs ever written and recorded by a rock band: “Ode To My Family”.

It might not even be my favorite Cranberries anthem, but “Ode To My Family” is undoubtedly one of the most endearing songs I’ve ever heard from any band or artist. It’s the antithesis of rock & roll — this was Dolores O’Riordan’s look back at simpler times before stardom and sold-out arenas. It’s unapologetically tame, not trying to be palatable for the masses. There is nothing exceptional about the guitar or bass lines. It’s all about O’Riordan’s lyrics and vocals delivering one of the most genuine musical expressions of the decade. The words say it all: “Does anyone care?”

“Understand what I've become. It wasn't my design. And people everywhere think something better than I am.”

"FOOL'S GOLD" THE STONE ROSES (1989)

For the month of October, I’m selecting a song each day from the decade that has the most meaning to me: the 80s. It was the decade that I grew up in. The period of time where I discovered my love for music — and explored many different genres. For the next 31 days, I’ll highlight a handful of songs that I truly loved and that were representative of the decade. #31DaysOf80sSongs

The Stone Roses was one of those bands that made me want to be in a band myself. They didn’t last long, but for a couple of years, it seemed like they were almost larger than life. They paved new musical territory and are considered by many to be the catalysts of the Madchester scene. The debut album is one of my Top Ten albums of all time, and several of the songs are among some of my favorites. At the top of that list is the infectious “Fools Gold”.

Highly unusual, the album version of the song clocked in at nearly ten minutes. It was the last song on the debut album, serving as the coda to a brilliant record. It was all funk, all beats. While many rhythm sections do their thing in the background, Mani and Reni were often thrusted into the foreground — and “Fools Gold” was their song. The bass line cascades down and the trippy snare hits are relentless. John Squire adds the funk with his wah-wah effects while Ian Brown murmurs a story about the unlikely perils of searching for gold with friends. Every song on the band’s debut album seemed to be a brash statement — and on “Fools Gold” the band used the rhythm to deliver it.

“Sometimes you have to try to get along dear. I know the truth and I know what you're thinking.”

"WHAT I AM" EDIE BRICKELL & NEW BOHEMIANS (1988)

For the month of October, I’m selecting a song each day from the decade that has the most meaning to me: the 80s. It was the decade that I grew up in. The period of time where I discovered my love for music — and explored many different genres. For the next 31 days, I’ll highlight a handful of songs that I truly loved and that were representative of the decade. #31DaysOf80sSongs

Shooting Rubberbands at the Stars was a breath of fresh air when it arrived on the scene. The sound was this unusual, quirky mix of folk, jangle pop and Jerry Garcia-like guitar playing. The album artwork was also a statement, looking like no other album cover before it. I realize the album was a bit polarizing, but it just made it so easy for me to love at the time. Songs like “Little Miss S.”, “Air of December”, and “Circle” would lure me into a daydream state. And none of it would’ve been possible without the breakthrough single “What I Am”.

“What I Am” was this weird bohemian anomaly. I thought it was catchy, but, more than anything, its oddball eccentricity is what attracted me to it. There was nothing else like it on the radio. It didn’t sound current. But it also didn’t sound like something out of the past either. In many ways, I’m surprised that it was so successful and so well-known beyond the alt rock music fans that first discovered it on stations like Long Island’s WDRE, Boston’s WFNX and L.A.’s KROQ. I could sense that it was a gift in a brief moment in time — and that moment was gone just like that.

“Philosophy is the talk on a cereal box. Religion is the smile on a dog.”