"THE BED'S TOO BIG WITHOUT YOU" THE POLICE (1979)

The decade in which I was born has given me a strange perspective on its music. I discovered pretty much all of the 70’s sounds – from prog rock to punk to disco – well after they came into the world. It wasn’t until the late 80’s that I discovered what I was missing. I would characterize the decade as one where budding genres leaped off their inspiration pads and came to fruition. For the month of February, Mental Jukebox will feature some of these gems with a different 70’s song each day. #28DaysOf70sSongs

The Police are that unique breed of rock that we can look back at and affirm one thing: no one else was doing what they were doing at the level in which they were doing it. There are countless bands that merged rock with punk. Many others who merged rock with new wave. But no other relevant band did what they did with rock and reggae so seamlessly. The sound is invigorating and has a very improvisational feel even in its calculated nature. One of the more pronounced examples of this is the eighth track off Regatta De Blanc: “The Bed’s Too Big Without You”.

It’s a song about a former girlfriend of Sting’s. It’s a song of loneliness and remorse. It’s not an unusual topic for a rock song, but it’s a lament told on a bed of reggae rock, a genre that The Police seemed to be defining almost overnight. There’s nothing else like it. Over the course of the band’s career, Sting’s most obvious contributions have been his songwriting abilities and his soaring tenor vocals. But critics have said his bass playing is a bit lacking, almost pedestrian. Well, that’s simply not the case with “The Bed’s Too Big Without You”. The song puts the bass playing at the forefront. The bass line cascades downward along with Sting’s waning spirit. Just maybe you might feel a little bit of what Sting was feeling when he wrote the song.

“Living on my own was the least of my fears.”

"THE BOXER" SIMON & GARFUNKEL (1970)

The decade in which I was born has given me a strange perspective on its music. I discovered pretty much all of the 70’s sounds – from prog rock to punk to disco – well after they came into the world. It wasn’t until the late 80’s that I discovered what I was missing. I would characterize the decade as one where budding genres leaped off their inspiration pads and came to fruition. For the month of February, Mental Jukebox will feature some of these gems with a different 70’s song each day. #28DaysOf70sSongs

Bridge Over Troubled Water is the final studio album from Simon & Garfunkel, an album so good it prompts the listener to greedily beg for more. Simon carried the songwriting duties, but the harmonies are just as much a part of those songs as the melodies. The album spawned iconic songs that have made an indelible impact on the musical landscape: “Bridge Over Troubled Water” which features Art Garfunkel on lead vocals, “Cecilia” which has a persona driven mostly by its memorable percussion elements, and then there’s my favorite of the bunch: “The Boxer”.

The song is autobiographical, a rare treat inside the mind of the songwriter. The theme of being misunderstood and only remembered for what people want to remember are prevalent in the song. “The Boxer” is a masterpiece from a lyrical perspective. It bends words like poetry (“Such are promises. All lies and jest. Still, a man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest”). It paints images like prose (“Asking only workman's wages I come looking for a job. But I get no offers. Just a come-on from the whores on Seventh Avenue.”). And it goes beyond coherent words using syllables as expressions with the iconic refrain “Lie-la-lie”. There are simply few songwriters as gifted as Paul Simon.

“Asking only workman's wages I come looking for a job. But I get no offers. Just a come-on from the whores on Seventh Avenue.”

"SOLSBURY HILL" PETER GABRIEL (1977)

The decade in which I was born has given me a strange perspective on its music. I discovered pretty much all of the 70’s sounds – from prog rock to punk to disco – well after they came into the world. It wasn’t until the late 80’s that I discovered what I was missing. I would characterize the decade as one where budding genres leaped off their inspiration pads and came to fruition. For the month of February, Mental Jukebox will feature some of these gems with a different 70’s song each day. #28DaysOf70sSongs

My exposure to the music of Peter Gabriel started with MTV. Great, artistic videos. Songs like “Shock the Monkey” and “Sledgehammer” were these infectious, mid-tempo bangers. The videos looked great and the music sounded great. But it wasn’t until I was later introduced to Gabriel’s wider palette in his solo work that I truly became a fan. “Biko”, “Games Without Frontiers” and “Solsbury Hill” were the bridge to this proggy world of rock. The latter is playing non-stop today on my Mental Jukebox.

“Solsbury Hill” is a song about letting go from the past and looking ahead to the future. It’s a sentiment captured in the amazing lyrics and reflected in the timing. It was Gabriel’s solo debut, written and performed on the heels of his departure from Genesis. And it’s a sentiment revealed in the music. Each note bearing an apparent sense of optimism. Without being corny or insincere. Which, when you think long and hard about it, puts “Solsbury Hill” in a very small group of distinguished rock songs.

“Standing, stretching every nerve. Had to listen. Had no choice.”

"LANDSLIDE" FLEETWOOD MAC (1975)

The decade in which I was born has given me a strange perspective on its music. I discovered pretty much all of the 70’s sounds – from prog rock to punk to disco – well after they came into the world. It wasn’t until the late 80’s that I discovered what I was missing. I would characterize the decade as one where budding genres leaped off their inspiration pads and came to fruition. For the month of February, Mental Jukebox will feature some of these gems with a different 70’s song each day. #28DaysOf70sSongs

Fleetwood Mac fans might be some of the most loyal music fans out there. To them, Rumours is like Citizen Kane. And Stevie Nicks is a goddess. I’ve never really stopped and wondered why these fans adore this band so much. But it is a peculiar thing. It rivals the level of devotion in Deadheads. Fans that will travel on planes and quit their jobs to see their band open with “The Chain”, close with “Go Your Own Way”, and play a Stevie Nicks ballad right smack in the middle of the setlist. A beautiful, timeless song called “Landslide”.

It occurred to me that “Landslide” might be a microcosm of everything that fans love about Fleetwood Mac. Stevie Nicks’ signature raspy delivery is the centerpiece of the song. Wise beyond her years, written and sung with perspective we don’t often see in a rock star. And then there’s Lindsey Buckingham’s iconic acoustic guitar, steady, un-flashy, but absolutely critical to the sound of the song. The instrumentation is minimal because “Landslide” doesn’t need to be covered in layers. It’s the heart of the song that matters. And maybe that’s what Fleetwood Mac fans are truly after.

“Time makes you bolder. Even children get older. And I'm getting older too.”

"SEPTEMBER" EARTH, WIND & FIRE (1978)

The decade in which I was born has given me a strange perspective on its music. I discovered pretty much all of the 70’s sounds – from prog rock to punk to disco – well after they came into the world. It wasn’t until the late 80’s that I discovered what I was missing. I would characterize the decade as one where budding genres leaped off their inspiration pads and came to fruition. For the month of February, Mental Jukebox will feature some of these gems with a different 70’s song each day. #28DaysOf70sSongs

Music plays such an integral role at weddings. Yet, there’s so much bad wedding music out there. You’ve heard ‘em. You probably danced to them. “Macarena”, “Electric Slide”, “Kung Fu Fighting”. They’ve somehow become wedding classics. But we know there are the real classics that seem to get everyone onto the dance floor. That’s something Earth, Wind & Fire knows a thing or two about. How to get your butt up off the seat. Your spirits up in the air. Your cheesiest dance moves out there for the world to see. They know all this because of the song “September”.

This is the song that launched a million wedding dance floors. It’s universally loved. 8 years old or 80 years old, Single or married, Everyone can appreciate it. As far as disco falsetto vocals and horn arrangements go, it doesn’t get much better. Maurice White added the unforgettable “bah-dee-ya” refrain to the song, When one of his co-songwriters questioned the inclusion of that gibberish, she quickly learned not to let lyrics get in the way of groove. “Bah-dee-ya” just works. The moment “September” plays, you’re in the moment. Ready to celebrate. Ready to cut a rug. Ready to let loose. And, if you’re not, well maybe you should’ve just stayed home.

“Do you remember the 21st night of September? Love was changing the minds of pretenders while chasing the clouds away.”

"BOTH ENDS BURNING" ROXY MUSIC (1975)

The decade in which I was born has given me a strange perspective on its music. I discovered pretty much all of the 70’s sounds – from prog rock to punk to disco – well after they came into the world. It wasn’t until the late 80’s that I discovered what I was missing. I would characterize the decade as one where budding genres leaped off their inspiration pads and came to fruition. For the month of February, Mental Jukebox will feature some of these gems with a different 70’s song each day. #28DaysOf70sSongs

There’s a scene in the music documentary Depeche Mode 101 where frontman David Gahan is singing gleefully to Roxy Music’s “Love is the Drug” while playing pinball. It would be easy to gloss over that scene because, on the surface, it seems meaningless. An extra shot thrown in to show the band unwinding behind stage. But it’s actually much more than that. It’s a poignant reminder that Roxy Music is an important band that went beyond glam rock and impeccable style. They are inspiration to many new wave bands and the genre’s various iterations. The influences can be heard throughout the Siren album, including the track “Both Ends Burning”.

While David Gahan’s vocals sound eerily similar to Bryan Ferry’s approach in “Love is the Drug”, you can make the argument that Duran Duran’s Simon Le Bon sings like Ferry does in “Both Ends Burning”. In fact, the song sounds like a foreshadowing of early Duran Duran. The rhythm section, in particular, sounds like an early glimpse of John Taylor’s bass hooks and Roger Taylor’s drumbeats. The shimmery synth interludes have Nick Rhodes written all over them and the guitar riff finds the right moments to shine just like Andy Taylor did in the 80’s. Hearing back “Both Ends Burning” today, it’s a marvel to know Roxy Music created this a good 7 years before Duran Duran made their big entry into new wave. “Both Ends Burning” and the entire Siren album were a launch pad for many great bands to follow.

“Both ends burning and I can't control the fires raging in my soul tonight.”

"BICYCLE RACE" QUEEN (1978)

The decade in which I was born has given me a strange perspective on its music. I discovered pretty much all of the 70’s sounds – from prog rock to punk to disco – well after they came into the world. It wasn’t until the late 80’s that I discovered what I was missing. I would characterize the decade as one where budding genres leaped off their inspiration pads and came to fruition. For the month of February, Mental Jukebox will feature some of these gems with a different 70’s song each day. #28DaysOf70sSongs

Some of the most impressive songs I know are ones characterized by dimension. These songs are like pieces of clay, stretched in different directions, taking on various tempos, chord progressions, instrumentation and genres. They give our ears a lot to listen to and plenty to think about. There are few bands that do this as well as Queen. Many of their more well known songs are epic pieces consisting of varying movements. One of the best examples of this appears on the first side of Jazz: the sing-songy “Bicycle Race”.

“I want to ride my bicycle”. Sounds simple, but then Freddie Mercury gets to the call-and-response verses and the song becomes a social commentary of the times. Like “It’s The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)” and “We Didn’t Start The Fire” did for the 80’s, “Bicycle Race” made certain we never forgot about the 70’s long after they passed us by. But unlike the R.E.M. and Billy Joel songs, it employed more musical dimension in the process. You might love “Bicycle Race” or you may hate it. But one thing we can all agree on about the song is this: It’s never ever boring.

“You say "coke", I say "caine". You say "John", I say "Wayne". "Hot dog", I say, "Cool it, man". I don't wanna be the President of America.”

"MEXICO" JAMES TAYLOR (1975)

The decade in which I was born has given me a strange perspective on its music. I discovered pretty much all of the 70’s sounds – from prog rock to punk to disco – well after they came into the world. It wasn’t until the late 80’s that I discovered what I was missing. I would characterize the decade as one where budding genres leaped off their inspiration pads and came to fruition. For the month of February, Mental Jukebox will feature some of these gems with a different 70’s song each day. #28DaysOf70sSongs

James Taylor’s version of folk has straddled two sides of the emotional spectrum: happy and sad. Songs like “How Sweet It is” and “Your Smiling Face” were uplifting, but more often JT was hanging out on the other end of spectrum as evidenced by signature tracks like “Fire and Rain” and “You’ve Got a Friend”. “Carolina in My Mind” and “Country Road” would’ve been light and airy if they were sung by someone else, but there’s an inescapable sadness in the way Taylor sings those classics. Thankfully, that isn’t the case with “Mexico”. The border town fantasy sounds like a place you want to escape to, not escape from.

This is my favorite JT song of all time. Having harmony masters David Crosby and Graham Nash singing backing vocals certainly didn’t hurt. But it was JT’s acoustic guitar that was the musical highlight and the heartbeat of this song. From the opening sequence to the end refrain, he found a way to create a melodic masterpiece out of these unusual chord progressions—an uncommon achievement for pop music at the time. And the best thing about it, “Mexico” still holds up so well more than four decades later.

“Way down here, you need a reason to move. Feel a fool running your stateside games.”

"10:15 SATURDAY NIGHT" THE CURE (1979)

The decade in which I was born has given me a strange perspective on its music. I discovered pretty much all of the 70’s sounds – from prog rock to punk to disco – well after they came into the world. It wasn’t until the late 80’s that I discovered what I was missing. I would characterize the decade as one where budding genres leaped off their inspiration pads and came to fruition. For the month of February, Mental Jukebox will feature some of these gems with a different 70’s song each day. #28DaysOf70sSongs

The Cure cannon is a treasure trove of jams, bangers, dirges and moments of pure ecstasy. Songs like “Killing an Arab”, “Boys Don’t Cry”, “A Forest”, “Inbetween Days”, “Just Like Heaven”, “Lovesong” and “Friday I’m in Love” all played pivotal roles in the evolution of the band. You could make the argument for any of those songs to be the most important Cure song. As much as I detest “Friday I’m in Love”, it did introduce a wider audience to this incredible band. However, the song that maybe holds the most significance may not be any of those classics. It might just be “10:15 Saturday Night”, the song that got the attention of a record label executive and led to the band’s signing.

Robert Smith wrote the song one night when he was bored. I love the irony of a dull situation inspiring something far greater. "10:15 Saturday Night” started off as a b-side, but eventually became a single in some markets. Thing is, it’s very un-single in its composition. It’s not very accessible or catchy at all. It feels less like a song and more like a mood piece, using space and volume changes to evoke a series of emotions. A Saturday night might seem so trivial, yet Smith made us feel the gravity of those nights when you’re waiting for something, anything to happen.

“Waiting for the telephone to ring. And I'm wondering where she's been. And I'm crying for yesterday. And the tap drips. Drip drip drip drip drip drip drip drip.”

"PANIC IN DETROIT" DAVID BOWIE (1973)

The decade in which I was born has given me a strange perspective on its music. I discovered pretty much all of the 70’s sounds – from prog rock to punk to disco – well after they came into the world. It wasn’t until the late 80’s that I discovered what I was missing. I would characterize the decade as one where budding genres leaped off their inspiration pads and came to fruition. For the month of February, Mental Jukebox will feature some of these gems with a different 70’s song each day. #28DaysOf70sSongs

I’m a Ziggy Stardust guy all the way. As prolific as Bowie was in the 70s, it’s the only album of his that I truly enjoy from beginning to end. But my next favorite album is probably Aladdin Sane. It’s glammy at times. But it also rocks pretty hard at other times. Most Bowie albums have a couple of songs that outshine the others, but there was a consistency about Aladdin Sane that was unmatched by his other records. Still, I’m most drawn to the hard-edged “Panic in Detroit”.

It all starts with the guitar work. Widely considered one of the best session players of all time, Mick Ronson shined here. “Panic in Detroit” is considered essential listening for Ronson enthusiasts. His guitar solo starts at the 3:15 mark and captures the imagination of the Detroit riots that inspired the song. At one point, the solo evokes the rise of smoke and flames. At another, it sounds like a symphony of sirens. The backing vocals are fierce, like chants in the uprising. The percussion lays down a steady, insistent drum roll and congas that make it feel like the panic will never end. And then there’s Bowie. Being cool, just being Bowie.

“He looked a lot like Che Guevara. Drove a diesel van. Kept his gun in quiet seclusion. Such a humble man.”

"PLACE TO BE" NICK DRAKE (1972)

The decade in which I was born has given me a strange perspective on its music. I discovered pretty much all of the 70’s sounds – from prog rock to punk to disco – well after they came into the world. It wasn’t until the late 80’s that I discovered what I was missing. I would characterize the decade as one where budding genres leaped off their inspiration pads and came to fruition. For the month of February, Mental Jukebox will feature some of these gems with a different 70’s song each day. #28DaysOf70sSongs

Pink Moon was the third and final studio album from Nick Drake. His life vanished before most fans even had a chance to know his music. But his legacy has certainly lived on, and Drake has become somewhat larger than life several decades later. His music is appreciated more these days, but it also resonates more. His brand of folk was quite different from the Simon & Garfunkels and JTs of his era. But one could argue his version of the genre and his musical vision has had the most staying power. No better example of this than “Place To Be”.

Like the rest of the Pink Moon album, “Place To Be” is Nick Drake and no one else. He sings, he strums. It’s incredibly bare, like a friend playing a song for you in your living room. Much has been said about Drake’s bout with depression and his suicide. Pink Moon was released two months before his death, which adds a gravity to “Place To Be”. These were some of his last words and thoughts. It’s a melancholic treatise where Drake’s acoustic guitar strums are like logs in the fire and his vocals are like embers floating away in the dark, dark sky.

“And I was green, greener than the hill where flowers grew and the sun shone still. Now I'm darker than the deepest sea. Just hand me down, give me a place to be.”

"LESSONS" RUSH (2112)

The decade in which I was born has given me a strange perspective on its music. I discovered pretty much all of the 70’s sounds – from prog rock to punk to disco – well after they came into the world. It wasn’t until the late 80’s that I discovered what I was missing. I would characterize the decade as one where budding genres leaped off their inspiration pads and came to fruition. For the month of February, Mental Jukebox will feature some of these gems with a different 70’s song each day. #28DaysOf70sSongs

Rush is one of the most polarizing bands of all time. They have some of the most loyal fans. They also have some of the biggest naysayers. The naysayers say Geddy’s voice is atrocious. The lyrics don’t belong in rock music. Too much technique, not enough soul. While I’ve sometimes had these same gripes, it hasn’t stopped me from admiring this band. I adore this band. My brother and I got our first taste of Rush by borrowing cassettes at the town library. We heard Signals, Moving Pictures, Exit… Stage Left, Permanent Waves and Grace Under Pressure. And we were hooked. But no album was more addicting than 2112. A concept album that expanded my imagination and rocked hard all at once. One of the least heralded songs from that record is “Lessons”.

The funny thing about Geddy’s voice is his unusually high notes are pushed to the max on this song, yet it isn’t overblown. It feels like his vocal demeanor hits its sweet spot on “Lessons” more so than most songs. This is a true rock & roll song that would garner more interest in Rush if rock fans gave it a listen. “Lessons” has always been overshadowed by the mainstream’s limited view of Rush: “YYZ”, “Tom Sawyer”, “Spirit of Radio”, “Limelight” and the like. But, it’s the song that reminds me why I love Rush so much. Lee, Peart and Lifeson all have their moments here – there are some nice drum fills, guitar hooks and bass lines in there, but the three friends are totally locked in and in sync.

“Sweet memories. Flashing very quickly by. Reminding me and giving me a reason why.”

"ALISON" ELVIS COSTELLO (1977)

The decade in which I was born has given me a strange perspective on its music. I discovered pretty much all of the 70’s sounds – from prog rock to punk to disco – well after they came into the world. It wasn’t until the late 80’s that I discovered what I was missing. I would characterize the decade as one where budding genres leaped off their inspiration pads and came to fruition. For the month of February, Mental Jukebox will feature some of these gems with a different 70’s song each day. #28DaysOf70sSongs

The rise of an artist’s most celebrated music can be a fascinating thing. Chart success is just part of the story. More airplay = more exposure. But some artists’ most well-known songs are ones that never charted, while lesser celebrated songs had their commercial success. One example of the latter is The Cure’s “Friday I’m In Love”. As a Cure fan, I can attest to the fact that the hit is one of the band’s worst songs. There are at least 40-50 other songs that are better than it, including “Plainsong” a non-single anthem. Elvis Costello has a similar thing going on. While the more successful “Veronica” and “Everyday I Write The Book” aren’t bad songs, his finest song is arguably “Alison”, the non-charting single from his debut album My Aim Is True.

“Did he leave your pretty fingers lying in the wedding cake?” The lyrics were absolutely genius. We don’t know the full story, but we are absolutely intrigued about this Alison from the very first verse. Costello has said it’s a song about a woman in a supermarket. Could it be that Alison is a figurative example of that stranger in the supermarket? Not just a stranger, but a person with all these complex things going on in her life. Searching for love in all the wrong places. Involved with the wrong person. Admired by someone who’s head over heels for her. The instrumentation is simple. The story is complicated. The melody is beautiful. My favorite Elvis Costello song didn’t climb charts, but it has climbed inside the hearts of many fans and found a safe place there.

“I'm not gonna get too sentimental like those other sticky valentines. 'Cause I don't know if you are loving somebody. I only know it isn't mine.”

"AS" STEVIE WONDER (1976)

The decade in which I was born has given me a strange perspective on its music. I discovered pretty much all of the 70’s sounds – from prog rock to punk to disco – well after they came into the world. It wasn’t until the late 80’s that I discovered what I was missing. I would characterize the decade as one where budding genres leaped off their inspiration pads and came to fruition. For the month of February, Mental Jukebox will feature some of these gems with a different 70’s song each day. #28DaysOf70sSongs

Songs In The Key of Life is such an appropriate title for one of the most ambitious and extraordinary albums of the 70’s. Its 21-song track listing tackles all kinds themes, including love, childhood and social injustice. It varies tempos, from mid-tempo to ballad pacing to frenetic. And, most noticeably, it spans a wide range of genres, from pop to soul to R&B to jazz. It truly showcases Stevie Wonder’s versatility as a songwriter, arranger, performer and producer. It seems like an impossible task to single out one track from Songs In The Key Of Life. So maybe today I’ll go with “As” and revisit more of the album’s treasures in a future Mental Jukebox write-up.

“As” is not only the title of the song. It’s the first word of the song as well. It’s a musical manifesto of unconditional love. It’s not clear who’s the narrator and who’s the beloved – is this a statement between two lovers? Between the Creator and the creation? Between the artist and the audience? The interpretation doesn’t really matter. What does matter is the sheer audacity of this unconditional love in a world predicated on conditions. “As” is a reminder of not what was, but what could be. In the key of life, it’s that C note on the highest octave.

“Until we dream of life and life becomes a dream. Be loving you.”

"JOLENE" DOLLY PARTON (1974)

The decade in which I was born has given me a strange perspective on its music. I discovered pretty much all of the 70’s sounds – from prog rock to punk to disco – well after they came into the world. It wasn’t until the late 80’s that I discovered what I was missing. I would characterize the decade as one where budding genres leaped off their inspiration pads and came to fruition. For the month of February, Mental Jukebox will feature some of these gems with a different 70’s song each day. #28DaysOf70sSongs

You couldn’t grow up in the 80s without hearing the Dolly Parton jokes outside at recess and in the backs of school buses. What a shame though, because it colored the way I saw her musically. I wrote off the music even before I heard a single note. It’s why it took me so damn long to see that she made a masterpiece back in 1974. There are many great songs on this album. Songs that others have made their own. But “Jolene” will always be hers. Not Whitney Houston’s or anyone else’s.

There’s an attitude here that we don’t often associate with country music. The desperate plea to Jolene is held together tightly by a killer guitar riff, a gorgeous string arrangement and an emotionally charged performance from Dolly. The vocals are absolutely superb. I recently saw a live performance Dolly gave at Glastonbury in 2013 where she sounds just as sharp and brilliant as her original studio recording. The youngish crowd is singing along. The security guards are dancing along. The band is having the time of their lives. And absolutely everyone at the venue is wrapped up in the moment. That’s a power most songs just don’t possess.

“Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene. I'm begging of you, please don't take my man. Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, please don't take him just because you can.”

"LOST IN THE SUPERMARKET" THE CLASH (1979)

The decade in which I was born has given me a strange perspective on its music. I discovered pretty much all of the 70’s sounds – from prog rock to punk to disco – well after they came into the world. It wasn’t until the late 80’s that I discovered what I was missing. I would characterize the decade as one where budding genres leaped off their inspiration pads and came to fruition. For the month of February, Mental Jukebox will feature some of these gems with a different 70’s song each day. #28DaysOf70sSongs

Many of the most legendary recordings in music got their legendary status from the strength of their cohesive sound. The ability to make the whole and the individual parts work equally well is no easy feat. Well, that isn’t London Calling. As legendary as it is, the album veers into various rabbit holes, exploring multiple sounds and genres. It’s a true mish-mosh. It’s exceptional, but it’s still a mish-mosh. Eight tracks in, we come up on a song that doesn’t even sound anything like The Clash. It’s the beautifully addictive “Lost in the Supermarket”.

What’s going on here? Is that a disco rhythm we hear? This isn’t the anti-establishment, Brit punk outfit we know and love. Instead, “Lost in the Supermarket” showcases a band that’s going beyond its comfort zone, stretching itself musically. My favorite track off London Calling, Track 8 is a wry commentary on suburban alienation. The lyrics and the way that they are sung are unforgettable. It may not sound anything like a punk rock song, but therein lies its punk rock essence. The refusal to simply follow suit.

“I'm all lost in the supermarket. I can no longer shop happily. I came in here for that special offer. A guaranteed personality.”

"SHE'S LOST CONTROL" JOY DIVISION (1979)

The decade in which I was born has given me a strange perspective on its music. I discovered pretty much all of the 70’s sounds – from prog rock to punk to disco – well after they came into the world. It wasn’t until the late 80’s that I discovered what I was missing. I would characterize the decade as one where budding genres leaped off their inspiration pads and came to fruition. For the month of February, Mental Jukebox will feature some of these gems with a different 70’s song each day. #28DaysOf70sSongs

The album title Unknown Pleasures is an appropriate one. The record is full of sounds and explorations never heard before. Ian Curtis, Bernard Sumner, Hooky and Stephen Morris all did things on it that were truly inventive and inspirational for bands and instrumentalists, even still today. One of the more well known tracks, “She’s Lost Control”, was infectious, but far from accessible — and that’s what I love most about it.

There’s something strangely addictive about the song. It starts with an unusual drum part from Stephen Morris, which feels deliberately industrial. In the film biopic Control, Morris is seen spraying an aerosol can into the mic to manufacture the signature sound. Then things get even weirder with Hooky’s mesmerizing bass line played way up high on the neck. The oddness continues as Curtis stumbles in singing about a woman who suffers from epileptic seizures — and it seems he’s having one himself as he sings it. This leaves us with Bernard Sumner who’s busy carving out a grating riff that’s lower than Hooky’s bass line. It’s a strange composition that I can’t seem to stop listening to once I start.

“Confusion in her eyes that says it all. She's lost control.”

"WHEN THE LEVEE BREAKS" LED ZEPPELIN (1971)

The decade in which I was born has given me a strange perspective on its music. I discovered pretty much all of the 70’s sounds – from prog rock to punk to disco – well after they came into the world. It wasn’t until the late 80’s that I discovered what I was missing. I would characterize the decade as one where budding genres leaped off their inspiration pads and came to fruition. For the month of February, Mental Jukebox will feature some of these gems with a different 70’s song each day. #28DaysOf70sSongs

My Led Zeppelin IV cassette in 9th grade was a defining album for my budding interest in classic rock. I assumed I was in for just the hard stuff and would be comfortably flanked by Robert Plant’s howl and Jimmy Page’s hard-edged riffs. But IV took me my ears on a bender from the opening verse to “Black Dog” to the final guitar riff in “When The Levee Breaks”. The album fuses folk elements, straight ahead rock, early heavy metal elements and a heavy dose of blues. And it’s the blues that makes “When The Levee Breaks” one of the greatest tracks on the album.

Plant’s harmonica and Page’s guitar riff seemed attached at the hip, playing along the same octave. “When The Levee Breaks”, by name, was overshadowed by monster Zeppelin hits like “Stairway to Heaven”, “Black Dog”, “Rock and Roll” and “Going to California”. But I think it surpassed all the aforementioned classics. Those songs mastered epic riffs. They really relied on Page and Plant mostly. But “When The Levee Breaks” mastered hard rock blues more than any other Zeppelin song I can think of. It took the whole band to give it their all – and I count the song as one of Bonzo’s best and biggest barrages on the drum set.

“Mean old levee taught me to weep and moan.”

"SO FAR AWAY" CAROLE KING (1971)

The decade in which I was born has given me a strange perspective on its music. I discovered pretty much all of the 70’s sounds – from prog rock to punk to disco – well after they came into the world. It wasn’t until the late 80’s that I discovered what I was missing. I would characterize the decade as one where budding genres leaped off their inspiration pads and came to fruition. For the month of February, Mental Jukebox will feature some of these gems with a different 70’s song each day. #28DaysOf70sSongs

There’s a category of music that I like to think of as “greater later” tunes. These artists and albums are less desirable to us early on. Some might even be repulsive. But later in life, we have a change in perspective. The songs we once dismissed become the ones we embrace. As an 80’s kid, Carole King’s songs were still making their rounds throughout my life. I don’t know the first time I heard Tapestry, but its songs have always been lurking – on tv shows, in doctor’s offices, on Lite FM. I thought it was old people music. Well, now I must be old because I think Tapestry is a masterpiece. It’s the great American songbook, stacked from top to bottom with unforgettable songs like “So Far Away”.

Why the change in heart? I think I’ve come to recognize how hard it is to write a really good song. There’s so much meaningless trash out there and so few songs that have an earnestness to them. I don’t just mean the earnestness of the lyrics. I’m referring to everything about the song. The way it’s sung. The way it’s played. This is the beauty of Tapestry and “So Far Away”. It’s one of the most honest expressions about the isolation of being on the road and apart from the person that matters most. “So Far Away” is a song from a pop star perspective that’s just as relatable to the average person.

“I sure hope the road don't come to own me.”

"EVER FALLEN IN LOVE" BUZZCOCKS (1978)

The decade in which I was born has given me a strange perspective on its music. I discovered pretty much all of the 70’s sounds – from prog rock to punk to disco – well after they came into the world. It wasn’t until the late 80’s that I discovered what I was missing. I would characterize the decade as one where budding genres leaped off their inspiration pads and came to fruition. For the month of February, Mental Jukebox will feature some of these gems with a different 70’s song each day. #28DaysOf70sSongs

The definitions of punk rock haven’t always done the genre much justice. These descriptions usually start with the simplistic structures. Three chords typically. Lots of repetition. Often you’re in and out within two minutes. Punk rock also gets pigeonholed when it comes to lyrical themes. It’s a genre that’s anti-establishment with a rebellion declared against anybody and anything – from the government to your parents. Well, the Buzzcocks are a part of the genre, but they don’t fit any of these descriptions. They took the veneer of punk rock – and made it their own with the classic anthem “Ever Fallen In Love (With Someone You Shouldn’t’ve)”.

Here’s the thing about punk rock. The assumption is that the message pushes some people away and, in doing so, the music draws others in. But that’s not the case with “Ever Fallen In Love”. The song is about as real and empathetic as it gets. Pete Shelley wrote something that struck a chord with almost anybody. An awful realization that most of us have encountered at some point in our lives - whether as teenagers or as full-fledged adults. The verses are as iconic as the chorus. The narrative is as simple as love. Which, turns out, is quite a complicated thing.

“And if I start a commotion, I'll only end up losing you and that's worse.”