Pick four songs from any band and you can tell a lot about their sound. This summer, I’m featuring #RockBlocks, four picks from bands across various genres. They might be wildly different from each other, but what binds them together is the fact that they’re all a part of my life soundtrack.
"DEATH WITH DIGNITY" SUFJAN STEVENS (2015)
Pick four songs from any band and you can tell a lot about their sound. This summer, I’m featuring #RockBlocks, four picks from bands across various genres. They might be wildly different from each other, but what binds them together is the fact that they’re all a part of my life soundtrack.
Carrie & Lowell reminds me a lot of Beck’s Sea Change album. A recording born out of personal loss, featuring minimal instrumentation. Sufjan is often at his best with this stripped down sound, and this album was a return to those indie folk roots after a period of electronic exploration. As the opening track, “Death with Dignity” was a warm welcome back to Sufjan’s acoustic side.
I believe it will go down as one of Sufjan’s greatest songs. The musical scales are a vast playground for his melody. On “Death with Dignity”, his vocals climb, jump, soar, sit still and lay down, a self-contained metaphor for everything he must’ve been feeling after losing his mother. The song also proves that Sufjan never lost his acoustic touch. He was just off exploring other musical outlets there for a bit, like all the great music artists do.
“Spirit of my silence, I can hear you, but I'm afraid to be near you.”
"CASIMIR PULASKI DAY" SUFJAN STEVENS (2005)
Pick four songs from any band and you can tell a lot about their sound. This summer, I’m featuring #RockBlocks, four picks from bands across various genres. They might be wildly different from each other, but what binds them together is the fact that they’re all a part of my life soundtrack.
Sufjan Stevens’ state project is like Gaudi’s Sagrada Familia. It’s an unfinished masterpiece where we can only look to the individual elements of the greater vision in Sufjan's head for our own inspiration. We found that most prominently on the Illinois album, a collection of songs and clever musical interludes — with “Casimir Pulaski Day” right smack in the middle.
Sufjan has never been shy to explore Christian spirituality in his songs, which added a depth to Illinois. He made it far more than just an album about a state. On “Casimir Pulaski Day”, we hear references to bible study group prayers paired with Sufjan’s signature instrumentation. Evoking a Wes Anderson vibe, he made the banjo and the trumpet the stars — sucking out percussion entirely. Like many Sufjan Stevens’ acoustic recordings, it sounds like it’s being played in your living room.
“Tuesday night at the Bible study, we lift our hands and pray over your body. But nothing ever happens.”
"ALL THE TREES OF THE FIELD WILL CLAP THEIR HANDS" SUFJAN STEVENS (2004)
Pick four songs from any band and you can tell a lot about their sound. This summer, I’m featuring #RockBlocks, four picks from bands across various genres. They might be wildly different from each other, but what binds them together is the fact that they’re all a part of my life soundtrack.
Seven Swans isn’t just one of my favorite Sufjan Stevens albums, it’s one of my favorite albums period. It’s hard to come across another recording that’s as reflective, spiritual, melodic and personal. As the opener, “All the Trees” became an altar call for a new, pioneering musical expression.
The unique sound of “All the Trees” and the entire Seven Swans album is a musical paradox. It takes the banjo — an instrument typically used to accentuate energy, fast tempos and a sense of celebration — and turns it on his head. Sufjan used his slow, meandering banjo strums to create an aura of meditative reflection and slow down the tempo to a near halt. It’s not just about a spiritual experience. It’s a spiritual experience in itself.
“I am joining all my thoughts to you. And I'm preparing every part for you.”
"LOVE AND ANGER" KATE BUSH (1989)
Pick four songs from any band and you can tell a lot about their sound. This summer, I’m featuring #RockBlocks, four picks from bands across various genres. They might be wildly different from each other, but what binds them together is the fact that they’re all a part of my life soundtrack.
From my middle to high school years, I was fortunate to catch the end reaches of WDRE’s radio waves soaring across Long Island Sound. WDRE was my gateway to great music beyond the obvious artists. Where I grew up, it was easy to play Billy Joel, Zeppelin, the Dead, GnR and U2 to death. But no one was pointing me to Kate Bush. No one except my British cousin and WDRE. There was a four-year studio absence between Hounds of Love and The Sensual World, but when “Love and Anger” hit the airwaves, it was like Kate Bush made up for all that lost time overnight.
Bush has stuck with many of the same recording musicians over the years. Such was the case with “Love and Anger” where Bush enlisted David Gilmour to play guitar. Gilmour noticed her talent early on before she signed with a record company. He ended up paying for a few of her demos. And he has also let his producer mind and guitar playing abilities on various Kate Bush recordings over the years. In “Love and Anger”, we hear Gilmour’s distinct soaring riffs combined with the maturation of Kate Bush’s voice from less whimsical to more wise.
“Looking for a moment that'll never happen. Living in the gap between past and future.”
"THE BIG SKY" KATE BUSH (1985)
Pick four songs from any band and you can tell a lot about their sound. This summer, I’m featuring #RockBlocks, four picks from bands across various genres. They might be wildly different from each other, but what binds them together is the fact that they’re all a part of my life soundtrack.
Hounds of Love contains some of my favorite songs of all time. Collectively they represented a vibrant evolution of Kate Bush’s music. It had many parallels to So, the album from her longtime collaborator Peter Gabriel that came out the very same year. What Hounds of Love — and “The Big Sky” in particular — did was beat her peers at their own game. She made pop better and more progressive.
“The Big Sky” is vast, grand and full, riding on the back of that relentless bass slap. It rocked a lot more than much of Kate’s previous catalog, but the vocals and the epic instrumental arrangements were still a nod to her musical past. “The Big Sky” is simultaneously a great introduction to the world of Kate Bush and a great example of her musical versatility.
“They look down at the ground. Missing but I never go in now. I'm looking at the big sky.”
"SUSPENDED IN GAFFA" KATE BUSH (1982)
Pick four songs from any band and you can tell a lot about their sound. This summer, I’m featuring #RockBlocks, four picks from bands across various genres. They might be wildly different from each other, but what binds them together is the fact that they’re all a part of my life soundtrack.
Listening to a Kate Bush track feels less like pressing ‘play’ and more like pulling a book off a shelf and diving in. Her songs are stories put to music. Like an exquisitely crafted musical. In 1982, the music world was enamored with synthesizers. But with “Suspended in Gaffa”, Bush went in a completely different and unexpected direction than her peers.
She chose the mandolin and synclavier instead of synths. Opted for stick hits instead of snare hits. And crafted a story about someone catching a glimpse of God. The melody makes the vocals a musical feat as there are barely moments for Bush to breathe in between certain lines. “Suspended in Gaffa”, in many ways, is a divine encounter — from its gripping storytelling to its musical ingenuity.
“I won't open boxes that I am told not to. I'm not a Pandora.”
"ARMY DREAMERS" KATE BUSH (1980)
Pick four songs from any band and you can tell a lot about their sound. This summer, I’m featuring #RockBlocks, four picks from bands across various genres. They might be wildly different from each other, but what binds them together is the fact that they’re all a part of my life soundtrack.
To enter Kate Bush’s world is to have one foot stepping back into history and one foot firmly planted in the future. It’s the way she straddles the role of historian and pioneer that makes her so unique and respected in music circles. The fact that she was commercially successful in England with several hit singles tells you how much more sophisticated fans and critics are on the other side of the pond. Because these songs, including “Army Dreamers”, are not exactly the most accessible things for your ears.
Listening back to “Army Dreamers”, I’m struck by the fact that there is nothing contrived about this music. Nothing else sounds like it. Kate Bush didn’t merely write music lyrics, she wrote a post-war epic. She didn’t merely record a rock song, she composed a musical masterpiece. She showed us another way beyond synths and electric guitars, making magic out of mandolins and bodhrans.
“The weather warmer, he is colder. Four men in uniform to carry home my little soldier.”
"CAROLINE" FLEETWOOD MAC (1987)
Pick four songs from any band and you can tell a lot about their sound. This summer, I’m featuring #RockBlocks, four picks from bands across various genres. They might be wildly different from each other, but what binds them together is the fact that they’re all a part of my life soundtrack.
Not even close to the iconic stature of Rumors, Tango in the Night still had its fair share of great music. At least 3 to 4 of the songs still appear on their live setlists. But my favorite track off the album isn’t “Little Lies”, “Big Love”, “Everywhere” or even “Seven Wonders”. It’s the less heralded “Caroline”.
It was written by Buckingham, and the gutsy vocals definitely put his performance in the spotlight. But what makes “Caroline” stand out to me from a solid track list is Mick Fleetwood’s percussion barrage. Less high hat. Less snare. Heavy on the floor tom and tom rack. Just deep, weighty drums that drive the rhythm and assert their presence throughout the song. It’s the one track on Tango in the Night that I can play over and over again.
“Caroline, time recedes with a fatal drop.”
"TUSK" FLEETWOOD MAC (1979)
Pick four songs from any band and you can tell a lot about their sound. This summer, I’m featuring #RockBlocks, four picks from bands across various genres. They might be wildly different from each other, but what binds them together is the fact that they’re all a part of my life soundtrack.
USC’s marching band made a cameo on “Tusk” to ensure this already percussion-driven track had all the power it needed to be exceptional at one thing only — which was to shove the rhythm into the foreground. On “Tusk”, a coherent melody is almost indecipherable. It was unlike any other Fleetwood Mac song, but it has become one of their most well-known songs and has frequently appeared on live setlists.
When I listen to “Tusk”, I think they’re talking about male-female dynamics. But the atmosphere screams jungles, warpaint, tribal dances around a fire and dead animals on a spit. Every percussion element plays an integral role in the ritual — from McVie’s bass line to the floor toms. But the most unusual aspect of the song is Mick Fleetwood’s use of non-musical objects. At one point, he’s literally slapping a leg of lamb with a spatula. “Tusk” is rough, raw and uninhibited, making a great song like Peter Gabriel’s “Games Without Frontiers” seem tame in comparison.
“Hooga haaga hooga. Don't say that you love me. Just tell me that you want me. Tusk.”
"GO YOUR OWN WAY" FLEETWOOD MAC (1977)
Pick four songs from any band and you can tell a lot about their sound. This summer, I’m featuring #RockBlocks, four picks from bands across various genres. They might be wildly different from each other, but what binds them together is the fact that they’re all a part of my life soundtrack.
One of the hardest tasks for a music blog is to pick just one song from Rumours. It’s generally regarded as one of the best albums ever produced, showing up on several Top Ten of all time lists. I’ll pick “Go Your Own Way” because, in many ways, it’s quite the opposite of my first #RockBlock entry for Fleetwood Mac, “Landslide”.
“Go Your Own Way” is ironically one of the band’s feel-good, upbeat anthems, even though it was an autobiographical account of the ending of Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks’ romantic relationship. Like many Fleetwood Mac songs, it has several things going for it that lurked beneath the surface. It wasn’t just a breakup song, it was a track that demonstrated the resilience of the band with everything that was going on personally. The end product was one of the best three-part harmonies from Buckingham, Nicks and Christine McVie — and one of my favorite Fleetwood Mac bass lines from John McVie.
“Loving you isn't the right thing to do.”
"LANDSLIDE" FLEETWOOD MAC (1975)
Pick four songs from any band and you can tell a lot about their sound. This summer, I’m featuring #RockBlocks, four picks from bands across various genres. They might be wildly different from each other, but what binds them together is the fact that they’re all a part of my life soundtrack.
The Fleetwood Mac fanbase is one of the most loyal and devoted followings you’ll ever come across. The affinity for this band’s immense canon of music cannot be denied. But for some reason, this band has often been overshadowed by others when it comes to my own musical preferences. Still, it hasn’t stopped me from noticing and appreciating what Fleetwood Mac has done for rock & roll music. As much as any other band, they have demonstrated a knack for nailing both instrumental complexity and simplicity. “Landslide” is a banner example of the latter.
Written by Stevie Nicks, “Landslide” unleashed the simple power of Nicks’ trademark rasp and gorgeous classical guitar-inspired instrumentation. It evokes themes that are pretty much the opposite of a physical landslide. Serenity. Peace. Control. But the most obvious quality of “Landslide” is perhaps the easiest one to overlook. In a band of several talented songwriters, vocalists and instrumentalists, egos were put aside to let Stevie Nicks be the spotlight. It’s a creative democracy that Fleetwood Mac has forged for more than 50 years.
“Well, I've been afraid of changin''cause I've built my life around you. But time makes you bolder. Even children get older. And I'm getting older too.”
"LIGHTS" INTERPOL (2010)
Pick four songs from any band and you can tell a lot about their sound. This summer, I’m featuring #RockBlocks, four picks from bands across various genres. They might be wildly different from each other, but what binds them together is the fact that they’re all a part of my life soundtrack.
By the time Interpol’s fourth album came out, I had begun to lose hope that they could recover to the stature of the first two albums. I don’t think they’ve been back at that level since. But “Lights” was an anomaly. It was epic. While Turn on the Bright Lights and Antics had the full body of work from top to bottom, “Lights” shined on a self-titled LP that lacked depth.
Like a good story, a good song has an arc. A good song doesn’t stay up at one level for 3 or 4 minutes and then call it quits. It goes somewhere. It takes you on a journey. This is the strength of “Lights”. Like so many Cure anthems before it, it builds with multiple layers, each coming in at their appointed time. It’s not a cheap pop thrill like “Barricade”, it instead envelopes you slowly and decisively.
“All that I see is peaceful eyes drawn away from me.”
"EVIL" INTERPOL (2004)
Pick four songs from any band and you can tell a lot about their sound. This summer, I’m featuring #RockBlocks, four picks from bands across various genres. They might be wildly different from each other, but what binds them together is the fact that they’re all a part of my life soundtrack.
As a band, Interpol peaked way too early. Antics is arguably their best recording, maybe only bested by the debut album Turn on the Bright Lights. Everything was clicking on Antics, which portrayed a band with an unbelievable confidence in their sound and aesthetic while others fell into their sophomore slump. There is no weak track on the album, but I think “Evil” had more ingenuity than all of them combined.
“Evil” is a masterpiece in music dynamics. It goes against the grain in just about every way. First, it begins with a killer bass line before anything else, a harsh reminder that this band is no longer the same without Carlos D. It speeds up, it slows down, it speeds back up. The pace catches you off guard. From the verses to the chorus, the guitar riffs come in before you expect them to slot in. The sound goes full, then goes stark, then flourishes once again. These dynamics give “Evil” intrigue and personality, making it extremely hard to grow old even after a hundred listens.
“It took a life span with no cellmate to find the long way back.”
"NYC" INTERPOL (2002)
Pick four songs from any band and you can tell a lot about their sound. This summer, I’m featuring #RockBlocks, four picks from bands across various genres. They might be wildly different from each other, but what binds them together is the fact that they’re all a part of my life soundtrack.
This might be the one song on Turn on the Bright Lights that continues to grow on me with every listen. Released about a year after 9/11, “NYC” gave us a glimpse of the city that was here before and after the attacks. It’s an unglamorous treatise on the alienation and the pressure to keep “turning on the bright lights”. It’s a side to New York City that’s surprisingly absent in music.
Paul Banks’ vocals are the centerpiece of the song, and they’re even more haunting than usual on “NYC”. It sounds like he’s singing beneath a subway grate, but the echo effect convinces you he’s not really there. Everything else on the track is subdued. This isn’t the edgy, rhythmic Interpol we know and love. The bass and drums are deliberately scaled back — and Daniel Kessler’s guitar riffs are quieter, using a variety of tamer strums and slides. “NYC” is a song with millions of different interpretations for each person that lives here — and it has taken on a whole new meaning during the pandemic.
“I had seven faces. Thought I knew which one to wear. I'm sick of spending these lonely nights training myself not to care.”
"PDA" INTERPOL (2002)
Pick four songs from any band and you can tell a lot about their sound. This summer, I’m featuring #RockBlocks, four picks from bands across various genres. They might be wildly different from each other, but what binds them together is the fact that they’re all a part of my life soundtrack.
There was a good four-year stretch when Interpol was my favorite band on the planet. They just got it. They wore my city on their sleeve. They recovered all the right elements of post punk. And they made me want to be in a band. Something I hadn’t felt since The Stone Roses. It all started with Turn on the Bright Lights and one of the lead singles, “PDA”.
Listening back to “PDA” again, I’m reminded how eerily similar Paul Banks’ catatonic vocals are to Ian Curtis. I remember how Daniel Kessler brought a new style of guitar grating that frankly no one else has gotten right — that strangely nauseating, yet entrancing pull. And I look back and marvel at the pulsating, rhythmic bed laid down by Carlos D. and Fogarino. “PDA” was decade-defining and a musical playground in the post-9/11 era.
“We have two hundred couches where you can sleep tight, grim rite.”
"STEP OUT" JOSE GONZALEZ (2013)
Exceptional soundtracks can make good movies great. They can also take on a life of their own, becoming a greater highlight than their respective films. In this series, I’m selecting some of my favorite soundtrack songs. While quite a few are well-known recordings, I’m also including a few that have flown under the radar over the years.
The Secret Life of Walter Mitty was an odd movie about an odd character that happened to have a pretty stellar soundtrack. “Step Out” came out as a single, and isn’t found on any of Jose Gonzalez’s full-length albums. It’s probably one of his most well-known songs, but in many ways it’s wildly different than most of his catalog.
For the most part, Jose Gonzalez’ music tends to exist in a slow, meandering tempo universe. His songs are reflective and atmospheric, often relying on his vocals, incredible acoustic guitar skills, and not much else. In “Step Out”, Gonzalez literally steps out of his comfort zone, revving up the RPMs and bringing in a much fuller sound. The high intensity isn’t built up, it exists from the very beginning — with more instrumentation, uncharacteristically loud percussion and full background vocals. It's a great song that happens to sound nothing like a Jose Gonzalez song.
“House on fire, leave it all behind you. Dark as night, let the lightning guide you.”
"FREE" THE MARTINIS (1995)
Exceptional soundtracks can make good movies great. They can also take on a life of their own, becoming a greater highlight than their respective films. In this series, I’m selecting some of my favorite soundtrack songs. While quite a few are well-known recordings, I’m also including a few that have flown under the radar over the years.
In just a little over a year, I believe this is already the fourth song from the Empire Records soundtrack that I’ve selected on Mental Jukebox. It’s one of my favorite soundtracks top to bottom, fueling both my imagination and my ambitions after graduating from college. Hearing The Martinis today I’m pleasantly surprised that “Free” has stood the test of time rather well.
The Breeders’ “Cannonball” was the more renowned Pixies side project. But The Martinis was no slouch in my mind. Pixies guitarist Joey Santiago teamed up with his then-wife to record two albums of unpretentious, melodic alt pop — a far cry from the pioneering two-minute musical rants from the Pixies. “Free” was easy to get, easy to listen to and easy to like.
“So free for the moment. Lost somewhere between the earth and the sky.”
"TAKE MY BREATH AWAY" BERLIN (1986)
Exceptional soundtracks can make good movies great. They can also take on a life of their own, becoming a greater highlight than their respective films. In this series, I’m selecting some of my favorite soundtrack songs. While quite a few are well-known recordings, I’m also including a few that have flown under the radar over the years.
Those who grew up in the 80’s often wonder why their minds are filled with such useless song lyrics and movie lines. They have taken up permanent residence in our heads. The decade had numerous expressions of synth pop. It had countless ballads. And it had Top Gun. At the intersection of all of these was Berlin’s “Take My Breath Away”.
This was a song that made hearts race in the lovemaking scene far more than the fighter jet scenes. You fell for it whether you had reached puberty or not. Maybe only bested by The Police’s “Every Breath You Take” or U2’s “With or Without You”, “Take My Breath Away” is one of the 80’s greatest and most memorable ballads. The synth sounds were era-defining. The key change delivered gravitas. And the melody still stands as an icon of the decade.
“Haunted by the notion somewhere there's a love in flames.”
"LAYLA" DEREK & THE DOMINOS (1971)
Exceptional soundtracks can make good movies great. They can also take on a life of their own, becoming a greater highlight than their respective films. In this series, I’m selecting some of my favorite soundtrack songs. While quite a few are well-known recordings, I’m also including a few that have flown under the radar over the years.
Martin Scorsese’s affinity for Eric Clapton’s music is undeniable — and The Goodfellas soundtrack contains two songs to prove it: Cream’s “Sunshine of Your Love” and Derek & The Dominos’ “Layla” — two of Clapton’s most well-known recordings. The former was a one-riff rocker. The latter was an epic piece consisting of two divergent movements.
“Layla” is a tale of two halves. The first half is driven by a siren-sounding guitar riff. It doesn’t ease in; it starts off in a hurry. Then halfway through the song, “Layla” downshifts its tempo and the piano takes over as lead instrument. Goodfellas featured this second movement prominently, which seemed to fit like a glove with the film. What makes “Layla” stand out among all the classics in rock history is that it’s like listening to two great rock songs, not just one.
“You've been running and hiding much too long. You know it's just your foolish pride.”