"IMITOSIS" ANDREW BIRD (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

I didn’t discover the world of Andrew Bird until he was about eight studio albums into his brilliant career. It might be one of my deepest musical regrets. That was a lot of time lost that I could’ve spent pouring through his prolific canon, dissecting album after album, all while whistling along in unison. I missed a ton of shows that would’ve allowed me to hear live renditions of some of his earlier material. Luckily, however, when I caught Bird at Terminal 5 in 2016 I got to hear him play this beauty of a track, “Imitosis”.

Bird’s music covers a wide range of genres, but his base has always been the use of a variety of stringed instruments with a folk rock demeanor. The other more well-known track off of Armchair Apocrypha was “Plasticities” which showcased Bird’s more experimental rock tendencies. This made “Imitosis” stick out like a sore thumb because, if anything, it was a tango. The bass, drums, guitar and violin do what they can to recreate a hot summer night in Argentina. But the ringer was the Glockenspiel, the instrument that gave “Imitosis” its playful character and soul.

“What was mistaken for closeness, was just a case of mitosis.”

"SOMEBODY TOLD ME" THE KILLERS (2004)

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

When Hot Fuss first came out, it felt like a strange trip back to the 80’s. It didn’t simply borrow synth pop influences, it unabashedly took on the form of a new wave album. In doing so, it made the album irresistible to me. The songs rocked hard and took on giant slabs of synth jams without holding back. I have memories of riding shotgun in my friend’s car with Hot Fuss blasting out his speakers as we played air keys on his dashboard and did our very best Brandon Flowers when “Somebody Told Me” came on.

“Mr. Brightside” might be the track that everyone remembers and the one that has had the longer shelf life, due to the fact that it’s been covered by everyone, including indie bands and football marching bands alike. But “Somebody Told Me” rocked like it was on a mission to blow your mind. It’s hard to imagine songs that rocked harder with synthesizers as the main instrument. The lyrics were about a boy pining for a girl. But the hooks sounded like they came from outer space, like the soundtrack to an alien invasion. “Somebody Told Me” had this musical paradox built into it — one of worldly romance and otherworldly musicality.

“Breakin' my back just to know your name.”

"THE GOLDEN AGE" BECK (2002)

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 an artist who’s known for his experimental approach and use of samples, I could never quite explain why Beck’s purist and slow-moving Sea Change was my favorite album of his by far. I just liked it. Sea Change feels like the perfect albium for some days. As a New Yorker, I don’t mind its slow pace one bit. In fact, I’ve come to crave it on a semi-regular basis. It was an album that was birthed out of Beck’s breakup with a longtime girlfriend. The dude was miserable, but the beauty and introspection shined through the misery. Every track was spot on, but today my pick is “The Golden Age”.

Is it a wake-up call or a lullaby? Maybe it’s both. “The Golden Age” is less about self-loathing and more about self-discovery. It reminds us that sometimes it’s okay to not be okay. The irony is that “The Golden Age” and the Sea Change album at large, is some of Beck’s finest work. He was totally dialed in to the melody and the key instrumental themes — with no samples, distortion or Dust Brothers production maneuvers to hide behind. “The Golden Age” was just another great example and reminder that you can create a wonderful song simply by picking up an acoustic guitar and singing from the heart. They’re just timeless methods.

“These days I barely get by. I don't even try.”

"ISLANDS" THE XX (2009)

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

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

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

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

"C'MERE" INTERPOL (2004)

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

There aren’t many years that were as rich and prolific in terms of music recordings as 2004. That year, we saw key studio releases from Modest Mouse, TV on the Radio, Franz Ferdinand, Keane, Broken Social Scene, The Killers, Interpol, among others. Interpol’s Antics is my favorite album from that year. While the debut record Turn on the Bright Lights may have carried greater significance and helped establish the New York City post-punk revival scene, Antics has always been my go-to. It is Interpol absolutely and resolutely locked in from beginning to end. There’s a confidence in every note — and one of the tracks that led the charge was “C’Mere”.

“C’Mere” might be one of Daniel Kessler’s most versatile guitar showcases from the Interpol catalog. The hooks just keep coming, barely coming up for air as Kessler launches into one post-punk riff after another. Together, Carlos D and Fogarino formed one of the decade’s boldest and brashest rhythm sections. Beats that started, stopped and stuttered their way along, bar after bar. On “C’Mere” they seem to be surfing on a tidal wave. Meanwhile, Paul Banks gave this sinister vocal performance that more than made up for forgettable lyrics. The vocals truly captured the haunting aura of Antics, like a modern day Ian Curtis.

“It's way too late to be this locked inside ourselves. The trouble is that you're in love with someone else.”

"JOEY" CONCRETE BLONDE (1990)

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

1990 was an interesting year in music. Synth pop seemed to be having a late resurgence with acts like Electronic and Anything Box. Grunge was laying down its roots with Nirvana, Alice in Chains and others. And a new genre called shoegaze was taking shape off the heels of Cocteau Twins and new artists like Ride and Slowdive. But that same year, a simple, straight ahead rock song called “Joey” made its way onto the radio and I couldn’t get myself to stop listening to it.

I never got into Concrete Blonde as a band, but “Joey” might be my favorite song of 1990. It lived in this vanilla, mid-tempo world, but the lyrics were so personal and sincere. It’s a song about being in love with an alcoholic, but it turns out lead singer Johnette Napolitano was writing about her boyfriend Marc Moreland, guitarist for Wall of Voodoo. Like some of the best songs in history, “Joey” was able to go from a deeply personal song from Napolitano to a song that every listener could make its own. You didn’t have to be in love with an alcoholic to have that song mean something to you. That’s the power of the song.

“I know you've heard it all before, so I don't say it anymore. I just stand by and let you fight your secret war.”

"ACROBAT" U2 (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

In my freshman year in college, I think I unconsciously surveyed everyone’s taste in music that I came across, focused mainly around my hall mates. The tastes were varied — from grunge feigns hooked on Nirvana to funk rock freaks who couldn’t get enough of the Chili Peppers to industrial rockers whose daily intake consisted of Skinny Puppy, Ministry and Front 242. But the one universal album that everyone seemed to play and revere was U2’s Achtung Baby. In college, it served as the great equalizer because there seemed to be something for everyone on that album, from the distortion-soaked banger “The Fly” to the quiet-loud dynamics of “Until the End of the World” to the pop-soaked and melodious “Mysterious Ways”. For me, the finest track was the second to last song on the album: “Acrobat”.

It may be one of the most overlooked tracks on the whole album, but I don’t know why. I saw somewhere that the band didn’t play it live until 2018. It certainly wasn’t a common U2 anthem, but what it had going for it were these great experimental elements. The time signature felt somewhat eccentric, but slightly reminiscent of the cadence that the band took for “Bullet the Blue Sky”. The eccentricity carries over on The Edge’s guitar work, from the sonic surges in the verses to those jaw-dropping cascading effects coming out of the chorus. I think what I appreciate most about “Acrobat” is that it’s a track that’s not reliant on a single, signature guitar riff. Instead, each hook seems to evolve and grow out of one other throughout the entire song.

“You know that your time is coming 'round, so don't let the bastards grind you down.”

"LIGHT FROM A DEAD STAR" LUSH (1994)

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

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

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

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

"LEAST COMPLICATED" INDIGO GIRLS (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

When I first discovered Indigo Girls around 1990, I was drawn to their songs in a way that I haven’t experienced much before. Songs like “Love’s Recovery”, “History Of Us” and “Secure Yourself” felt like old photo albums with faded edges to flip through. The songs had a way of adding gravity to the most important moments in life, giving me a deeper, wiser perspective on family, life and love. I saw them in ‘91 and ‘92, once at Port Chester’s Capitol Theatre and once at Foxboro Stadium as part of the Earth Day concert lineup. What I found fascinating is how well their songs translated in vastly different venues. Two years later, Swamp Ophelia was released, featuring one of my all-time Indigo Girls songs, “Least Complicated”.

It was one of the tracks that shaped my soundtrack for the summer of ‘94. I stayed up in Boston that summer, and a few of us either bummed around or quit our summer jobs and drove up to the north shore to lounge on sandy beaches. Our road trip mixes included “Least Complicated”, which had everything that I like about the band. Melodies that feel like the stuff of campfire songs. Minimal instrumentation that bring the acoustic guitars to the forefront. And those lovely Indigo Girls harmonies that seem to boldly flank opposite ends of the octaves.

“It's awful quiet here since love fell asleep.”

"WALKING IN MY SHOES" DEPECHE MODE (1993)

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

Violator will forever be known as the album that put Depeche Mode on the map. It was the album that truly brought their music to the masses; ironically it wasn’t the one preceding it. Still, when you look at the album immediately following Violator — Songs of Faith and Devotion — one can argue that it was the better of the three albums from top to bottom. The band felt completely locked in, despite the growing tensions within the group. And one of the highlights from this rich album is “Walking In My Shoes”.

Did DM turn into a rock band overnight? The instrumentation showed a rougher edge to the band with live drums, muscular guitar riffs and large doses of feedback. But the songwriting was still Martin Gore at the core. The exceptionally crafted lyrics straddled that delicate balance of vulnerability and brashness as told through the voice of a convict inside a courtroom. I got to see the band perform this song live on the Devotional Tour. There was no question that the infighting happening with the band affected their energy. For a few years, Depeche Mode had earned a reputation for being great live performers. While the showmanship just wasn’t there, it was clear that DM turned a corner. By expanding their sound to include more rock elements, somehow they found their sweet spot musically.

“Now I'm not looking for absolution. Forgiveness for the things I do. But before you come to any conclusions, try walking in my shoes.”

"KIND & GENEROUS" NATALIE MERCHANT (1998)

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

It’s hard to imagine my listening experience without mentioning the importance 10,000 Maniacs played in expanding my musical tastes. They were a band that got their exposure on alt rock radio though they sounded nothing like the other acts. But it’s the band’s catalog — and In My Tribe, in particular — that kicked off my interest in folk rock. Songs like “Don’t Talk”, “Hey Jack Kerouac” and “Verdi Cries” drew my attention to Natalie Merchant’s lyrics. While I’m not as big a fan of her solo work from an instrumental perspective, the lyrics were always strong, including the simple and sincere “Kind & Generous”.

The song is timeless, but even more than that, it has seen periods of resurgence, taking on new significance with various world events. This is the power of “Kind & Generous”. It’s message of gratitude continues to resonate and find new meaning, most recently during the COVID-19 pandemic. The song was featured in a commercial last year thanking healthcare workers on the frontline. As universal as the song’s theme is, I can’t think of a track that uttered the words “thank you” better than this one. And with that, I wish you a Happy Thanksgiving. Thank you for allowing me to share my love for music with you.

“For your kindness I'm in debt to you. And I never could have come this far without you.”

"FROM THE EDGE OF THE DEEP GREEN SEA" THE CURE (1992)

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 Wish album cover reminds me of the whimsical world of renowned artist Joan Miro. The art didn’t always make you feel happy, but it always made you feel something. Every song on the album accomplished this feat — from ecstasy in “Wendy Time” and “Doing the Unstuck” to euphoria in “High” and “Friday I’m in Love” to sorrow in “A Letter to Elise” and “To Wish Impossible Things”. But the one song that creates in me the greatest emotional response is “From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea”.

A treacherous swamp of feedback and distortion surfaces in the opening of the song, only to pull us in deeper and deeper into the sea. Guitar feedback felt more pronounced on this track and on Wish, in general, compared to all the great Cure albums that preceded it. But “From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea” benefited from an iconic wailing guitar riff that seemed to tug at a dozen different emotions. It’s the defining element of the song – one which I got to hear live as the band added it to their setlist on the second night at MSG on their 2016 North American tour. “Deep Green Sea” is one of the great underrated Cure songs, which somehow pulls me in deeper every time I hear it.

“Looking for something forever gone. But something we will always want.”

"40 DAYS" SLOWDIVE (1993)

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

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

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

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

"PARALLEL UNIVERSE" RED HOT CHILI PEPPERS (1999)

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

Few bands feature bass players who overshadow their guitarist counterparts. But such is the case with Red Hot Chili Peppers. While I really like Frusciante’s guitar playing style a lot, Flea’s ambitious funk-fueled bass lines are awe inspiring and the star of the show on many RHCP songs. His bass lines are like guitar parts in and of themselves, worthy of the highest volume on your subwoofer. But, in stark contrast to RHCP’s plethora of bass-prominent tracks is “Parallel Universe”, an anomaly with freakishly atypical instrumentation for the band.

There’s a lot of shredding happening on this song. But not a lot of funk. Kiedis’ vocals, as usual, are muscular, gut-wrenching and plain rock & roll. However, Flea humbly takes a backseat on “Parallel Universe” while Frusciante’s guitar work thrashes, strums and picks its way to the foreground. There’s not one or two great guitar riffs. There are three of them. The frenetic opening riff, the hefty power chords in the chorus, and the instrumental bridge that kicks up the distortion levels to create something galactic. It may not be a typical Red Hot Chili Peppers anthem, but it still rocks hard, which is really all we ever wanted from the band.

“Deep inside of a parallel universe it's getting harder and harder to tell what came first.”

"LIQUID" JARS OF CLAY (1995)

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

Since The Beatles, it seems bands have been able to state their political beliefs much more easily than their spiritual convictions without being lambasted or labeled or both. Artists like Dylan, Johnny Cash, U2 and Sufjan Stevens are the exception. But Jars of Clay was the rule. They came out of nowhere with “Flood”, which got extensive airplay on both mainstream and alternative radio formats. But very quickly, they got pegged as the next big Christian rock band, which they were. And, if “Flood” didn’t make it obvious enough that they were singing about Christian faith, “Liquid” certainly did.

Gregorian chants. String arrangements from Adrian Belew. Soaring three-part harmonies. And overt lyrics about the crucifixion. It wasn’t the typical rock & roll song by any stretch. And I think that’s partly why I gravitated toward it so much compared to the more accessible “Flood”. The song felt deeply sincere and assured, and as personal as faith can get. And somehow, it seemed every bit as remorseful as it was hopeful.

“Arms nailed down. Are you telling me something? Eyes turned out. Are you looking for someone?”

"ANGEL" GAVIN FRIDAY (1995)

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

Prior to the Romeo + Juliet soundtrack, I hadnever heard of Gavin Friday or The Virgin Prunes. Later, I found out that he collaborated with Bono on a few tracks. He’s clearly a somebody in the music world, particularly in Ireland. But that didn’t matter for me. When the soundtrack came out, I was completely enveloped by it, and it became an album that my then-girlfriend and I listened to incessantly just because we saw that crappy, yet beautiful-looking movie that it came with. There were plenty of standouts on the record, but “Angel” soared to the top.

The funny thing about “Angel” is that it was written before Romeo + Juliet, despite feeling like it was made just for the movie. The song mirrors the complicated situation that the main characters found themselves in. Like my then-girlfriend and I, they were helplessly in love to the point where it becomes impossible to put the brakes on it despite the impending doom. Flanked by gorgeous swirling synth layers, Friday’s falsetto feels like the whispering angel on one shoulder at times and the deceitful demon on the other.

“Angel.... hold on to me, love is all around me.”

"GOOD RIDDANCE (TIME OF YOUR LIFE)" GREEN DAY (1997)

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

Green Day is a bit of a guilty pleasure of mine. Many serious music listeners have written them off citing over-simplistic instrumentation and chord progressions. But I don’t mind so much that they’re simple. They are, after all, a punk rock band. No one ever gave The Ramones any grief despite them being guilty of the same musical “infractions”. What may actually be overlooked is the fact that Billy Joe Armstrong is quite a talented and underrated storyteller. For proof, just listen to Green Day’s rock operas American Idiot and 21st Century Breakdown. And then there was also that one anomaly of a song, “Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)”.

“Good Riddance” was written about an old girlfriend of Armstrong’s who left the country. But, over the years, it has become a song for all of us. It’s a graduation song, a breakup song, a wedding slide show song, a college reunion song, the list goes on. It’s also usually the last song played at a Green Day concert. It’s a song that ushers us back in time. Not just in a purely sugarcoated nostalgic way, but in a way that takes all the good with all the bad. Somehow this song has helped me put all of it in its proper perspective.

“So take the photographs and still frames in your mind. Hang it on a shelf in good health and good time. Tattoos of memories, and dead skin on trial. For what it's worth, it was worth all the while.”

"GLAMOROUS GLUE" MORRISSEY (1992)

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

In the winter of ‘92, a few friends of mine at Boston College took a short T-ride over to the nearby campus of Brandeis University. Brandeis turned their Gosman Center into a money-making machine, attracting several great college rock acts, including 10,000 Maniacs, Live and many others. On this particular night, we saw Morrissey. His stage presence was quite something. There were times I felt like he was staring right at me. During the tour, Morrissey was clearly in love with his new album Your Arsenal — playing nearly every track from it. While I like Your Arsenal a lot, this meant that the older material sadly got shortchanged. But one new song that really excelled in the live setting was “Glamorous Glue”.

There’s an irresistible, head-nod-inducing strut driving “Glamorous Glue” from beginning to end. The drum beat reminds me of that old Smiths classic, “Panic”. But there were hints of rockabilly and glam rock seeping into the spaces. What made this song strangely addictive was the guitar, which sounded super-charged at points like a T.Rex guitar hook. Hearing it live, something strange occurred that I wasn’t expecting. I didn’t miss or crave The Smiths one bit. “Glamorous Glue” proved that Morrissey could rock out without his old bandmates.

“Everyone lies, nobody minds.”

"EVERYTHING IS EVERYTHING" LAURYN HILL (1998)

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

I was never a big fan of hip hop, mainly because I find original instrumentation to be much more satisfying than sample dropping and beats. That said, The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill is probably one of my all-time favorite albums. As a concept album, it told a larger story that I could practically visualize in my head. This made the album much more appealing aside from having just individual standout tracks. Scenes of an inner city classroom danced in my head as one song blended into another. There isn’t a weak track on the album, but my favorite, by far, is “Everything is Everything”.

It’s hard to think of another song based on two chords that’s as gripping as this one. Those two simple chords formed an irresistible, unforgettable hook, forged by John Legend on piano and the Indigo Quartet on strings. It’s the heartbeat of the song, But what made “Everything is Everything” even more unique was the vocal performance. Lauryn Hill criss-crossed genres so seamlessly, going from R&B to hip hop to soul. Perhaps this is what makes The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill so appealing. It’s not simply a hip hop record, it’s so much more.

“I wrote these words for everyone who struggles in their youth, who won't accept deception, instead of what is truth.”

"TODAY" THE SMASHING PUMPKINS (1993)

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

I’m not the biggest fan of the grunge era. But when it was happening, it seemed fitting for the times. The genre became so big that it was practically impossible to prevent it from defining our life soundtrack no matter how much we detested it. The band that I liked most of that period was The Smashing Pumpkins. First, the music rocked as hard as the band name did. Second, as much of a control freak Billy Corgan was, I always appreciated his respect and admiration for all the great bands that came before them. And any Rush fan is a fan of mine. Siamese Dream was on heavy rotation in our dorms at college. So many great bangers on that album, but “Today” was the standout.

I’ve written previously about my affinity for songs that employ quiet-loud-quiet dynamics. And The Smashing Pumpkins did it as well as anyone. “Today” is a tale of two cities in rock form, going from quiet, dreamy verses to absolute nightmare fits of distortion in the chorus. At one point in the song, the guitar riff sounds like a siren coming from a fire truck. Then moments later, it sounds like it lit itself in scorching flames. “Today” is not a song for the faint of heart. It’s explosive, and at times sounds more like metal than alt rock. There will never be another rock song quite like it again.

“Today is the greatest day I've ever known. Can't live for tomorrow. Tomorrow's much too long. I'll burn my eyes out before I get out.”