"DRIVE" R.E.M. (1992)

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.

A new, evolved side to R.E.M. emerged on Automatic for the People. The mid-tempo pacing that was the band’s longstanding sweet spot was quite suddenly replaced with slow tempo-driven songs which, in my opinion, were the best songs on the album, including “Nightswimming”, “Everybody Hurts” and the most underrated track of the bunch: “Drive.”

On “Drive”, R.E.M. hopped in the car and took us on a slow, prodding journey through a myriad of musical expressions. Its pit stops were western, taking us through a landscape of cactuses, tumbleweeds and abandoned drive-in theaters. But the destination was orchestral, featuring some of the band's most iconic symphonic moments. What makes “Drive” one of the best R.E.M. songs are the lyrics. Stipe’s poeticism is on full display with lyrics that don’t require musical accompaniment.

“Maybe I ride, maybe you walk. Maybe I drive to get off, baby.”

"GET UP" R.E.M. (1988)

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.

R.E.M.’s ascent or descent (depending on how you look at it) into the mainstream was building slowly with singles like “It’s the End of the World” and “The One I Love”, but by the time Green came out, it seemed like there was no turning back. “Stand” established the band as a household name, which makes it easy to overlook the fact that some of the band’s best songs are on this album, including “Get Up”.

Michael Stipe names it as one of his favorite R.E.M. anthems. And it’s one of mine as well for a few reasons. First, it’s compact. I think the band’s best songs are all under three minutes. Second, here was an example of the band taking proprietary elements like their mid-tempo melodies, backing vocal chants and Buck’s signature riffs and combining them with brand new elements, most notably the use of music boxes to create a vivid dream world for its fans.

“Dreams, they complicate my life. Dreams, they complement my life.”

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

Document is still my favorite R.E.M. album, and Side A is one of the best sides of the decade in my opinion. Document was an about-face for the band. They found a new producer and added more muscle even while staying in their mid-tempo comfort zone. It all started with “Finest Worksong”, which did everything you want and expect from an opening track.

In just the first 10 seconds of “Finest Worksong”, R.E.M. set the agenda for Document and signaled the next stage of their evolution, led by Peter Buck’s ferocious guitar riff. It’s hardly one of Buck’s more complex jams, but it drew you in immediately and somehow the repetition doesn’t get old. At the 3:23 mark, the song peters out with power on the heels of Mike Mills’ slap and pop bass outro, leaving you wanting more.

“What we want and what we need has been confused.”

"SO. CENTRAL RAIN" R.E.M. (1984)

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.

Over a 25-year period, R.E.M. went from under-the-radar college rock band to Rock & Roll Hall of Fame inductees. It’s a rare story in rock & roll. And it’s a band that I listen back to fondly. In truth, this is a band that I got bored with after the early 90’s. But I would be lying if I said those early 80’s records didn’t mean something to me. Listening back to Murmur, Reckoning, Lifes Rich Pageant and others, I can’t imagine what alternative rock music would be like without them. Just beneath the holy grail of “Radio Free Europe”, “Everybody Hurts” and “Losing My Religion” is a massive catalog of masterpieces, including an early college rock staple called “So. Central Rain”.

This is Thom Yorke’s favorite R.E.M. song. The Radiohead frontman once praised Michael Stipe for being able to surface an emotion and then take a step back from it to give it more power. This is certainly true of Stipe, of R.E.M. and the song “So. Central Rain”. Only I would phrase it this way. I think what R.E.M. has done masterfully on this track and on so many others is have a laser-focused consciousness of emotion that seems to get stuck on repeat. Why? Because that’s how it often plays out in our lives. We say sorry. But then somehow saying it once doesn’t always seem to be enough.

“Go build yourself another dream, this choice isn't mine. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.”

"ROCK THE CASBAH" THE CLASH (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.

Growing up, I remember seeing the “Rock the Casbah” video air incessantly on MTV. I didn’t fully appreciate The Clash sound back then. It just wasn’t my cup of tea, but I couldn’t pull myself away from the video. The song’s story went over this elementary school kid’s head. Looking back, I wonder if I was listening to it over and over again to try to understand what the hell Strummer was singing about. Maybe I really liked the unusual word “casbah”. Or maybe I just dug the melody.

Years later, I understood “Rock the Casbah” as a narrative about an Arab king trying to ban rock music among his population. But the people rebelled and played the music even louder. At its root, it seems the song was the essence of punk: hard-edged, anti-establishment. But in true Clash fashion, they opted against a stripped-down sound, adding an iconic piano jam, a variety of percussion sounds and synth samples. “Rock the Casbah” was just one more prime example of a band willing to push punk rock further ahead.

"POLICE ON MY BACK" THE CLASH (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.

A year after recording the legendary double album London Calling, The Clash chose not to rest on their laurels. Instead they came back right away with the triple album Sandinista! It probably could’ve been tighter and a lot leaner, but you can’t fault The Clash for their ambition and creativity in pushing their brand of punk into even more genres. “The Magnificent Seven” was the indisputable banner track and it’s still one of my all-time favorite Clash songs, but “Police on My Back” isn’t far behind.

This cover classic showed The Clash could put serious social issues out there, but do it with a sense of humor. The opening guitar riff doubles as a police car siren and the rebellion-fueled chorus once again feels like it always belonged to The Clash, not to the original songwriters. “Police on My Back” proved that, more often than not, it was The Clash that influenced the rest of the music world, not the other way around.

“I been running Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday.”

"CLAMPDOWN" THE CLASH (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.

The fact that London Calling is universally hailed as one of the greatest rock albums of all time is a well-known fact. But what may not be as obvious is why. What the casual fan may miss is that this was not just a record by a punk rock band transitioning to new sounds. This was an album that helped build new genres from the ground up. Some say it was the first post-punk album, many describe it as a seminal new wave LP. And about halfway through it, “Clampdown” laid down the gauntlet.

In many ways, “Clampdown” sounds like the antithesis of punk rock. There’s still that Clash grit, but with it comes an unusual finesse and instrumental nuance. It’s not just an incredibly catchy song, it’s a foreshadowing of the new wave invasion. It’s an introduction to the early sounds and sensibilities of the genre with eerie resemblances to Talking Heads and Elvis Costello. What “Clampdown” made clear was that The Clash actually never lost their punk roots. Instead they brought their punk agenda to the masses.

“The men at the factory are old and cunning. You don't owe nothing, so boy, get running. It's the best years of your life they want to steal.”

"I FOUGHT THE LAW" THE CLASH (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.

“The only band that matters”, The Clash were musical pioneers in every sense of the expression. They inspired. They led. They explored existing genres like ska and reggae, and paved the way for new ones like post-punk and new wave. They were fiercely political. And they simply rocked — whether they were penning originals or reinventing other people’s songs like “I Fought the Law”.

One of the marks of a great cover song is a band’s ability to reset a song as if it was their very own. That’s the one similarity among all the great ones, from Hendrix’s “All Along the Watchtower” to Cash’s “Hurt”. “I Fought the Law” is the same. You think of it as a Clash song first and foremost, and it’s how most music fans will always remember the song. On it, they proved punk didn’t have to be basic, merging riffs from Strummer and Mick Jones to create something far more than just noise and rebellion.

“I fought the law and the law won.”

"SOUTH LONDON FOREVER" FLORENCE + THE MACHINE (2018)

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.

Four albums in, High as Hope was wiser. More reflective. More versatile. But still Florence through and through. The singing on the entire recording is exceptional, as Florence’s vocals only got better. And many of the songs on the album have an epic feel, each of them demonstrating a storytelling genius akin to Kate Bush’s catalog. One of my favorites is “South London Forever”.

It’s a song of tension. From prose to poetry. From whispering verse to powerful rant. From slow to fast, back to slow, back to fast again. “South London Forever” combines the spunk of her early recordings with a more mature voice and perspective. This underrated song — and the album at large — are helping Florence to live up to — and even exceed — those lofty Kate Bush comparisons.

“But everything I ever did was just another way to scream your name.”

"SHIP TO WRECK" FLORENCE + THE MACHINE (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.

After Ceremonials, four years passed without another Florence album. So when How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful made its way into the world, there were enormous expectations. And in my mind, the album overdelivered. It was not only better than Ceremonials, it was wiser. More mature. It was still distinctly Florence, but there was an evolution of her sound and approach without any doubt. And “Ship to Wreck” showed that she was becoming increasingly open to singing about her personal demons.

It’s a perfect opening track in many ways. We had waited so long for this, so on “Ship to Wreck” Florence wasted no time and got right to it. It starts off at full speed, barreling through to an opening verse about how we sometimes end up destroying the things we love the most. The irony of it all is that this song about self-destructive behavior is very much a vessel that Florence used to build up her influence in the music world.

“My love remind me, what was it that I said? I can't help but pull the earth around me to make my bed. And, my love remind me, what was it that I did?”

"NO LIGHT, NO LIGHT" FLORENCE + THE MACHINE (2011)

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.

Rock is rough. Rock is personal. Rock is emotional. “No Light, No Light” exhibits all of these things. There’s nothing delicate about it. In it Florence hits on themes that seem so core to the human condition, yet it’s a little surprising that no other artist has been able to articulate it as clearly and poignantly as her.

While Ceremonials isn’t one of my favorite Florence albums, it contains at least four or five of my favorite songs from the artist. What’s particularly impressive about “No Light, No Light” is the level of versatility and creativity from a then relatively young artist. One moment, she’s unleashing angst-ridden wailing, the next moment she’s barely whispering to us. Florence and music partner Isabella Summers concocted a melody and words that are easy to ingest. At a Florence show you’ll belt every single word, and then the very next day you’ll find that they’re all still there inside your head.

“It's so easy to sing it to a crowd. But it's so hard, my love, to say it to you, all alone.”

"COSMIC LOVE" FLORENCE + THE MACHINE (2009)

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.

Some music acts take a couple of albums to get going. Some start strong, but fizzle out just as quickly. Then there are a select few that begin with an overly impressive debut and only keep getting better. Florence + the Machine is one of the few acts that have been able to accomplish this impressive feat. Lungs isn’t just a superb debut album, it’s one of the greatest albums of the 2000s period. And “Cosmic Love” is arguably the best track on the LP.

Florence was one of the first acts to pioneer the use of the harp in indie rock — and “Cosmic Love” is a shining example. The harp ended up being the perfect instrumental choice. They’re like treble notes from the heavens. There’s a swagger and confidence in Florence’s vocals in this song — and throughout Lungs — that’s almost unfathomable for a debut recording. But as my #RockBlock series on Florence continues, we're reminded this is only the beginning.

“I took the stars from my eyes, and then I made a map, and knew that somehow I could find my way back.”

"DISINTEGRATION" THE CURE (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.

It’s ironic that one of the most underrated songs on Disintegration is the title track. The album is viewed as a masterpiece because it showcased several of the band’s most storied recordings. “Pictures of You”, “Fascination Street”, “Lovesong”, “Plainsong” and “Lullaby” all have a right to be considered among the band’s top ten songs. But somehow lost in the shuffle is a title track that’s arguably better than all of the aforementioned classics.

When I saw the band perform at NYC’s Madison Square Garden in 2016, they played over 30 songs that night and closed the first set with “Disintegration”. The gravitas of that performance said it all. “Disintegration” had all the maturity, depth and precision to feel like a band’s swan song. But instead of ending, The Cure just keeps going. They keep writing. They keep recording. They keep performing. It’s the great paradox of “Disintegration”, which becomes more apparent with each passing year.

“I never said I would stay to the end.”

"CATCH" THE CURE (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.

Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me was electric. There was a hop in the band’s step during this period, which resulted in a prolific treasure trove of songs that could’ve been enough for two full-length albums. It bore the band’s most popular song “Just Like Heaven” and also classics like “Why Can’t I Be You? and “Hot Hot Hot!!!”. But with “Catch”, the band wrote and recorded one of their most beloved songs among its loyal fanbase.

“Catch” showed a sleepy, yet whimsical side to the band that they explored only sparingly throughout their career. It was far lighter than the band’s dark goth roots. But its musical and lyrical undercurrents still felt core to the band’s identity, something that can’t be said of overly happy songs like “Friday I’m in Love”. “Catch” showcased the band’s sense of humor, that even in rejection you can still sorta laugh it off and not take yourself too seriously.

“Yes, I sometimes even tried to catch her, but never even caught her name.”

"PUSH" THE CURE (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.

The Head on the Door was the first album from The Cure that I loved from beginning to end. Each song seemed to flow perfectly into each other. They worked together brilliantly as a cohesive collection of songs, and the band seemed to strike the perfect sequence of tracks. “Push” was the mid-tempo connective tissue between the slow meanderings of “Six Different Ways” and the manic pacing of “The Baby Screams”. It’s also one of my favorite Cure songs of all time.

“Push” was written to thrive in the live performance. While the band is well-known for launching into long musical preludes prior to the first verse of many of their songs, “Push” literally pushed the band’s own limits, not introducing Robert Smiths’ vocals until after the 2:23 mark. This delay gave all the gorgeous, swirling layers of instrumentation the spotlight — from the percussion fills of new drummer Boris Williams to the guitar and synth attack from Smith, Tolhurst and Porl. More than 35 years after it was recorded, it still holds up.

“A smile to hide the fear away. Oh smear this man across the walls. Like strawberries and cream. It’s the only way to be.”

"CHARLOTTE SOMETIMES" THE CURE (1981)

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.

Trent Reznor once credited The Cure for creating a world for its fans. I think this recognition is spot on. Hearing a Cure album or going to a show feels a lot like you’re entering a different world from your own reality. Sometimes that world was dismal and full of despair. At other times it was a world of ecstasy. But it was always immersive and always a form of musical escapism. This is the most noteworthy thing about the early single “Charlotte Sometimes”.

The Cure was only three members at the time of this song: Robert Smith, Simon Gallup and Lol Tolhurst. But they had already begun to master the use of complex instrumental layering to create a mood and an enveloping environment for us to get lost in. “Charlotte Sometimes” felt like a glimpse into a dream state. When I look back at all the great Cure anthems — and there are plenty of them — the swirling synthesizers on “Charlotte Sometimes” is one of the most iconic keyboard-centered expressions in the band’s history.

“All the faces. All the voices blur. Change to one face. Change to one voice.”

"LEAVE THAT THING ALONE" RUSH (1993)

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.

While Counterparts represented a return to the guitar-heavy side of Rush, some of the songs contain reminders of the power guitar riff era of “Working Man” and the band’s first album. But one track, in particular, showed a new side to Rush. “Leave That Thing Alone” helped bring up the rear on the album and ushered in an evolved sound as one of their best instrumentals in several years.

“YYZ” and “La Villa Stangiato” still stand the test of time as two of Rush’s best instrumentals, and two of their best songs period. But I don’t think “Leave That Thing Alone” is that far behind them. Like a classic jazz recording, Lee, Peart and Lifeson all take turns in the spotlight. But for the most part, it’s Lifeson’s multiple riffs that assert the most presence, echoing Counterparts’ heavy emphasis on guitars. Hats off to Peart for being one of rock’s most talented lyricists, but tracks like “Leave That Thing Alone” make me wonder why Rush hasn’t composed and recorded more instrumentals.

"RED SECTOR A" RUSH (1984)

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.

Grace Under Pressure is rarely mentioned among Rush’s best albums. On the surface, it seems that other recordings were able to assert a more clearly defined musical agenda, including Fly By Night, 2112, Permanent Waves, Moving Pictures, Signals, among many others. But one could argue that Grace Under Pressure is where Rush started to put multiple musical explorations together unlike any other album. While Signals was almost exclusively synth, Grace Under Pressure is where Lifeson’s guitar-driven attack collided with Lee’s synth explosions. You can hear it loud and clear on “Red Sector A”.

Uncharacteristic of the band, there isn’t a single bass line to be found on this song. Instead Lee focused solely on creating calculating synth jams and singing the harrowing story of life inside a prison camp. Meanwhile, Lifeson and Peart led the attack on guitar and drums, building a soundscape that washes over you. What’s more profound beyond the music is the influence of “Red Sector A”, which bears a striking resemblance to the epic musicality of Muse.

“All that we can do is just survive. All that we can do to help ourselves is stay alive.”

"RED BARCHETTA" RUSH (1981)

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.

Growing up, one of the albums that I’ve played from beginning to end incessantly was Moving Pictures. In the streaming age, this ritual has lost its luster a bit, as I’ve ended up playing its individual tracks probably more often than the entire LP. But in recent years, this has only helped reinforce how much each of these songs mean to me — and none more so than “Red Barchetta”.

“Tom Sawyer” had attitude. “YYZ” had technique. “Limelight” had melody. But “Red Barchetta” had heart. About a joy ride turned car chase, it had all the musical trappings to further the narrative — from Peart’s cymbal crashes to Lee’s adrenaline-fueled vocals. One of my favorite Alex Lifeson guitar solos happens at the 3:20 mark. Often overshadowed by Lee’s bass playing skills and Peart’s prowess on drums, Lifeson more than held his own on “Red Barchetta”.

“Drive like the wind. Straining the limits of machine and man.”

"THE TREES" RUSH (1978)

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 an easy task picking just four Rush songs for a Rock Block. I could easily dedicate an entire month of Mental Jukebox to the band. But we all know Rush isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. But it’s mine, and it has been mine since middle school. Rather than wax poetic about the brilliance of “YYZ” or “Freewill”, I’m going to skip ahead to the second and third upper echelons of Rush greatness, starting with “The Trees”.

“The Trees” was one of only two normal-length songs on Hemispheres. But regardless, it still had strands of prog rock throughout. The instrumental interludes and chord progressions were eclectic — and the lyrics are some of Neil Peart’s best, a story about trouble in the forest among the maples and oaks. Musically, The Trees covers a lot of ground in under five minutes, starting with a classical guitar introduction, shifting into hard rock Rush and then finishing off with a foreshadowing of the bass and guitar stylings that would later appear on Permanent Waves and, most noticeably, on Moving Pictures. Epic is an understatement.

“There is trouble in the Forest. And the creatures all have fled as the Maples scream ‘Oppression!’ And the Oaks, just shake their heads.”