"WHAT I'D SAY, PT. 1 & 2" RAY CHARLES (1959)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 1959

For as long as music has been around, jam sessions have been around, too. That thing that brings musicians together – their love for music – and an openness to whatever may come of it. There’s a thrill in that. The night will be fun regardless. But on some occasions, the night can go down in history. Like the night this song was born. “What I’d Say” was a song born out of a late night improv jam session.

Ray Charles and his band finished their set and just kept on playing. And when they kept playing, “What I’d Say” is what came out, right there out on the stage. Over the course of eight minutes, “What I’d Say” defined soul music, won the adoration of music fans and managed to piss off quite a few as well. It combined electric piano with real piano and it turned the high hat into a central percussion element.

“WHEN YOU SEE ME IN MISERY, COME ON BABY, SEE ABOUT ME.”

"NOTHING CAN CHANGE THIS LOVE" SAM COOKE (1963)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 1963

It’s time to pay homage to a legend. The king of soul. The man whose voice and music influenced Aretha Franklin, Al Green, Curtis Mayfield, Stevie Wonder, Marvin Gaye, Otis Redding and so many others. Play a single note from any one of his songs and his voice is instantly recognizable. In 1963, he released two albums – Mr. Soul and Night Beat. The latter is considered to be the stronger of the two, but I love the track “Nothing Can Change This Love” from Mr. Soul.

This was the one song from Mr. Soul that Cooke wrote – and it’s one of the best from the bunch. I can listen to it a hundred times in a row – and never grow tired marveling at Cooke’s effortlessly sublime vocals. His voice is as smooth as molasses, but it’s also his delivery that is worth taking note of. It’s his timing that allows Cooke to create a sense of gravitas in every line. It’s why something so simple sounds so exceptional.

“If I go a million miles away I'd write a letter each and every day. 'Cause honey nothing, nothing Can ever change this love I have for you.”

"THE GIRL FROM IPANEMA" STAN GETZ & JOAO GILBERTO (1964)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 1964

Gilberto and Getz hail from two different worlds, but come together as one on this classic recording. In one instance, I can listen to “The Girl From Ipanema” and feel like I’m transported to a hot summer night in Rio. In another, I’m transported to a cold, wintry night in Manhattan. Either way, the song does carry with it that certain carefree mood – somehow that love is all that matters. And maybe everything will be alright.

This bossa nova staple reminds me of fond old memories – my first year in NYC. At the same time, it gets me to slow down a few RPMs and look to better days ahead.“The Girl From Ipanema” is a plea to not take things so seriously, including itself. Don’t over-analyze it. Don’t over-critique it. Just go with the flow. Enjoy it. Even if a part of you thinks it’s the cheesiest thing in the world. It is what it is, and often it’s just perfect for the moment.

“The girl from Ipanema goes walking And when she passes, Each one she passes goes, ‘Ah’.”

"SKY PILOT" ERIC BURDON & THE ANIMALS (1968)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 1968

A friend from high school introduced me to The Animals with an enthusiasm that even exceeded his love for the biggest. classic rock icons like Zeppelin, Cream and the Stones. I think there were many reasons for this, but it was largely the power, swagger and testosterone-fueled vocals of Eric Burdon. Most casual listeners are familiar with their big hits: “House of the Rising Sun”, “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood” and “We Gotta Get Out of This Place”. But my friend encouraged me to go a little deeper. The song that I looked forward to playing most on my Animals mixtape was a minor hit toward the end of their years called “Sky Pilot”.

The track was an anti-war song written during the time of the Vietnam War. But it wasn’t about an Air Force pilot, it was an ode to a military chaplain. “How high can you fly. You never, never, never reach the sky”. The track carries intrigue from both an instrumental and production perspective. “Sky Pilot” soars on a bed of reverb and flanging complete with guitar solo, a string arrangement, bagpipe interlude and a host of war-themed audio samples. Then, of course, there’s the underrated, masterful lead vocals from Burdon. The song is a feast for the ears. I loved “Sky Pilot” from the very first listen and that love has never died.

“HE MUMBLES A PRAYER AND IT ENDS WITH A SMILE.”

"PINK MOON" NICK DRAKE (1972)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 1972

Word has been out for several decades now, but for a time Nick Drake was one of music’s best kept secrets. Artists like Robert Smith drew upon Drake’s inspiration early on, but many fans didn’t even know who Nick Drake was or heard anything from his relatively short, but profound catalog until years after his death. With a return to cleaner acoustic-driven, folk-inspired, singer-songwriter records after the grunge era, Nick’s music resonated with fans, including the title track to the last album before his death: “Pink Moon”.

In between verses, Nick sings “Pink, pink, pink, pink”, going lower with each repetition, demonstrating the deep richness of his oak-barreled baritone voice. It’s a marvel to behold that a voice so deep can be so delicate and even serene – a stark contrast to the raw edge found in singers like Johnny Cash, Ian Curtis and Tom Waits. Nick’s voice – not just his vocals, but his message – has no peers. Even still today.

“I saw it written and I saw it say, A pink moon is on its way.”

"THE OCEAN" LED ZEPPELIN (1973)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 1973

Start strong. End strong. This simple concept worked wonders for Houses Of The Holy – an album that kicked off with one banger, “The Song Remains The Same”, and then closed out with another in “The Ocean”. A bit of nostalgia, this is one of the Zeppelin anthems that made me a fan for life. It was like a loaded shot of testosterone for me as a teen. I remember hearing it for the first time in my friend Scott’s pickup truck. And, boy, was it a pick-me-up. I’ll go as far as to say I think it’s a bit underrated and underappreciated among the band’s heavy hitters.

“The Ocean” takes the rulebook on time signatures and throws it out the window with its iconic two-bar guitar riff from the riffmaster Jimmy Page. It’s also a track of excess – a strength in this case. The lack of restraint serves the song well with a key turning point in the song: a baptism by doo-wop at the 3:17 mark where everything – the drums, guitar and bass – suddenly goes rollicky and the wheels come off. A powerful statement of a closer if I ever heard one.

“SINGING ABOUT GOOD THINGS AND THE SUN THAT LIGHTS THE DAY. I USED TO SING ON THE MOUNTAINS, HAS THE OCEAN LOST ITS WAY?”

"ALISON" ELVIS COSTELLO (1977)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 1977

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.”

"EVER FALLEN IN LOVE" BUZZCOCKS (1978)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 1978

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.”

"PALE SHELTER" TEARS FOR FEARS (1982)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 1982

Like many young kids in America during the eighties, my first exposure to Tears For Fears was Songs From The Big Chair, not The Hurting. Songs like “Shout”, “Everybody Wants To Rule The World”, “Head Over Heels” and “Mother’s Talk” were unavoidable if you had MTV. Each song had its own unique flavor, but all the flavors unmistakably came from the same chefs. Hearing Songs From The Big Chair first made the discovery of The Hurting that much more of a delight. It possesses an incredibly mature sound for a debut album, and “Change”, “Mad World” and “Pale Shelter” are still some of my favorite songs to this day.

“Pale Shelter” was one of two songs that Tears For Fears recorded as a demo that eventually got them a record deal. It was the song that got them noticed, and one of a handful of tracks that has earned them enormous respect among fans over the years. “Pale Shelter” is timeless. It doesn’t sound a day old, even 40 years later. TFF did it with the dual vocal attack from Smith and Orzabal, where backing vocals carry just as much weight as the lead parts. From the guitar strums to the keyboard swirls, every instrumental element glides and glistens on the song. “Pale Shelter” is produced to perfection.

“HOW CAN I BE SURE WHEN YOUR INTRUSION'S MY ILLUSION?”

"UNION OF THE SNAKE" DURAN DURAN (1983)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 1983

Duran Duran is the first band that I loved. Looking back, I think this fact was unavoidable. My brother and I were glued to MTV – and Duran Duran was king of the station. It seemed like a new video from the band was constantly surfacing. Largely influenced by Japan and Roxy Music, Duran Duran weren’t exactly pioneers. But they were in many ways the perfecters. They knew how to write infectious pop songs, often highlighted by the frenetic stylings on John Taylor’s bass guitar. A prime example of this is “Union of the Snake”.

I still remember seeing the video on MTV and being reeled in by the images and the music. Every band member had his moment to shine on the track, yet none of the instrumentation feels excessive. The breakdown and musical arrangement at the 2:16 mark, in particular, is one of Duran Duran’s finest studio moments and one of the most imaginative musical expressions of the decade. On it, you’ll hear each member playing off of each other in a call-and-response structure, culminating in a sax solo by session player Andy Hamilton. While all the band members seemed to create a unified sonic boom on anthems like “Rio” and “The Reflex”, “Union of the Snake” marched to a different beat by thrusting each member into the spotlight at different points in time.

“There's a fine line drawing my senses together, and I think it's about to break.”

"THE DEAD HEART" MIDNIGHT OIL (1986)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 1986

Midnight Oil may not be the quintessential 80s band, but when it came to using music as a social and political voice, there was none better. The message was always loud and clear. Peter Garrett’s vocals were powerful and distinct. And the hooks were always on point — from “Beds are Burning” to the most obscure songs in their catalog. Somewhere in the middle was the album rocker “The Dead Heart”.

I think “Beds are Burning” is certainly more anthemic and representative of the decade’s music. But I always thought “The Dead Heart” was an underrated Midnight Oil song. It dealt with the mistreatment of indigenous Australians and took the message to the country’s mainstream airwaves. Peter Garrett rocked it as usual. But the backing vocals are what make the song. The “doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo” refrain is among modern rock’s most memorable interludes. And the chorus is sung by three of the band members in the same notes rather than in a three-part melody, symbolizing the unified conviction of the message.

“WE CARRY IN OUR HEARTS THE TRUE COUNTRY AND THAT CANNOT BE STOLEN.”

"PEEK-A-BOO" SIOUXSIE & THE BANSHEES (1988)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 1988

It takes a special kind of band to continually push boundaries, venturing beyond one’s comfort zone but simultaneously staying true to one’s essence. Siouxsie & The Banshees belongs in this prestigious category. Album to album, they have a history of folding in new genres into their post punk foundation. Even at their highest commercial success – the single “Kiss Them For Me” – they still stayed true to their essence. And one of the greatest examples of the band’s innovative side is “Peek-A-Boo”.

“Peek-A-Boo” sounds like one part circus, one part torture chamber, two parts industrial factory. Siouxsie sings with a highly unusual delivery, and every musical element – the accordion, the keys, and the drums – contributes greatly to the celebration of industrial noise. Gone are the guitar hooks. And even Severin’s bass is barely detectable on the track, aside from a few revs here and there. The track belongs to Siouxsie and Budgie, whose drums provide all the hooks you need.

“Peepshow, creepshow, Where did you get those eyes?”

"PURE" THE LIGHTNING SEEDS (1990)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 1990

My love for music really soared when two key events in my life came to fruition: getting my driver’s license when I was a junior in high school and finding out about an alt rock station that my county was able to barely catch on the airwaves. The reception wasn’t great, but it was more than good enough. WDRE – formerly WLIR – was the station where I discovered new bands and rediscovered ones that have been around for years. It’s the station where I first discovered The Lightning Seeds and the breakthrough alt single “Pure”.

“Pure” blasting in my Oldsmobile Omega, windows down, cruising through windy roads back from track practice, on my way to a friend’s house or to the Mt. Kisco Diner. “Pure” was light, upbeat, euphoric. It was like a drug. It didn’t matter how crappy of a day I had, “Pure” saved the day. It didn’t matter if the girl didn’t like me back, “Pure” saved the day. It didn’t matter if I had no plans for the weekend, “Pure” saved the day. Ian Broudie’s music is like a time capsule stored away in a closet. The music didn’t stay highly relevant over the past few decades. But it’s awesome seeing him at Glastonbury 2023. No one ever forgets great music – it’s pure and simple every time.

“Don't sell the dreams you should be keeping.”

"HUMAN BEHAVIOUR" BJORK (1993)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 1993

I’ll admit, while I liked a small handful of Sugarcubes tracks (“Hit”, “Leash Called Love”, “Motorcycle” to name a few), the band as a whole were just a little too cooky for me. Especially with the guy exclaiming random things into the mic. Why not just leave the vocals to Bjork? So, the minute Bjork went solo, I think that’s when things got a whole lot better. I thought her music got instantly stronger, smarter and more poignant. It all started with an opening track called “Human Behaviour”.

Like her vocals with the Sugarcubes, the song still had her signature vocal gymnastics. It’s like she’s warming up in front of us and blowing our minds from the get go. And the singing is gorgeous. But where things diverge are in the instrumentation. “Human Behavior” was still experimental and imaginative, but it wasn’t fraught with a dual personality dynamic. The song, in its entirety, was going in a single direction that was exciting and cool.

“If you ever get close to a human and human behavior, be ready, be ready to get confused and me and my here after. There's definitely, definitely, definitely no logic to human behavior.”

"BONES" RADIOHEAD (1995)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 1995

Music fans have mostly heralded the originality and ambition of OK Computer and Kid A over all the other incredible Radiohead albums. OK Computer is one of my favorite albums of all time, no doubt. But it’s not even my favorite Radiohead record. That distinction belongs to The Bends. I love innovation just like any semi-serious music fan, but at the end of the day, I just want a great collection of bangers. Like the first six studio albums from Zeppelin, The Bends is an album built on monster guitar riffs, not monster ambitions. There’s not a weak link in the bunch. “Street Spirit (Fade Out)”, “Fake Plastic Trees” and “(Nice Dream)” are perhaps the most well known songs on the tracklist, but “Bones” is one of those that makes me wish Radiohead would keep rocking out a little more.
How about Jonny’s guitar chops on this one? On “Bones”, this makes me think of all the kids out there who want to play guitar. I think most of them want to play like Jonny. Thrashing, screeching and motoring his way across a three-minute piece de resistance. Everything else rides on this monster wave, that grooving bass line and Thom’s vocals that fluctuate from straight-ahead underground to falsetto in the heavens. “Bones” is the kid in Thom, Jonny, Ed, Colin and Philip jamming in the garage because there’s nothing remotely better to do with their time.

“NOW I CAN'T CLIMB THE STAIRS. PIECES MISSING EVERYWHERE. PROZAC PAINKILLERS. WHEN YOU'VE GOT TO FEEL IT IN YOUR BONES.”

"I USED TO LOVE HIM" LAURYN HILL FEAT. MARY J. BLIGE (1998)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 1998

Lauryn Hill has one studio album to her credit, but it’s one for the ages. A hugely ambitious effort, The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill was a concept album and a personal memoir. It rewrote the rules and redefined genres like soul and hip hop. It had that rare quality of making your whole being move. Not just your body, but your mind and soul. There were enough songs to get two albums out of it. And one song deserves more credit than it gets. The second half kicks off with one of the greatest, most glorious breakup songs ever: “I Used to Love Him”.

The doo-wop influences are all over Miseducation, and especially apparent in the opening harmony on “I Used to Love Him”. It’s one of the most memorable and iconic musical moments on the album. But the highlight is the dual rant from Hill and Mary J. Blige. The breakups described in the lyrics weren’t debilitating, they were liberating. The more I listen to “I Used to Love Him” the more I come to a beautiful realization. That the song is less about breakups and more about reclaiming your identity.

“I CHOSE THE ROAD OF PASSION AND PAIN. SACRIFICED TOO MUCH. AND WAITED IN VAIN. GAVE UP MY POWER. CEASED BEING QUEEN.”

"LEIF ERICKSON" INTERPOL (2002)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 2002

Turn On The Bright Lights, in retrospect, seems to garner even more accolades for its contributions to the post-punk revival movement than when it was first released. It was such an important album coming off the heels of 9/11. To this day, it’s viewed by many to be the best Interpol record from beginning to end. (Not for me though, that would be Antics). TOTBL is full of grating, rhythmic bangers that cut to the bone. They are anthems of early 2000s indie rock. And the track that I turn back to over and over again is one of the lesser celebrated ones: the closer “Leif Erickson”.

Images of navigating murky waters in the bedroom at the dead of night are conjured up every time I hear it. Kessler’s and Banks’ guitars weave in and out like they’re making love to each other. Meanwhile, Carlos D (God, I miss this guy) and Fogarino lay down a rhythmic bed that ships you off to sea in your pajamas and all. As a closing track, it leaves a certain taste in your mouth and a sense of anticipation of what’s to come next for this very important band.

“SHE SAYS IT HELPS WITH THE LIGHTS OUT. HER RABID GLOW IS LIKE BRAILLE TO THE NIGHT.”

"STOCKHOLM SYNDROME" MUSE (2003)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 2003

I first discovered Muse on a car ride. My in-laws asked me if I heard the band Muse and then proceeded to play songs from Absolution. I wasn’t hooked immediately, but I was intrigued enough because I had heard nothing like them before. Muse is a genre masher. They sound like metal at time and attract their fair share of headbangers at their shows. They also have a progressive bent to them, both lyrically and musically with ambitious compositions soaked in heavy distortion. They even have classical music accents in terms of their song structures and chord progressions. You can hear Chopin and Rachmaninov imprinted all over their music. All of these genres come to a head in “Stockholm Syndrome”, one of the band’s most aggressive bangers.

“Sockholm Syndrome” lifts you up and then shoves you down. Every single note and word seemingly unleashing a fit of rage. You might just be casually listening to the music when you feel the slightest bit of insanity taking over. Interestingly, the song personifies the abuser in a Stockholm syndrome scenario, not the victim. Like the abuser, the music feels like it’s trying to sway you. Convince you. “Stockholm Syndrome” demands your obedience and that you never leave its side. Which is totally fine by me.

“AND WE'LL LOVE, AND WE'LL HATE AND WE'LL DIE. ALL TO NO AVAIL.”

"ALWAYS A RELIEF" THE RADIO DEPT. (2006)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 2006

When I was first introduced to The Radio Dept., I realized that all the other music that I was listening to at the time was characterized by bold, angular guitar riffs. Most of it probably had some association with post-punk revival. So when I first heard the Lesser Matters and Pet Grief albums, it felt like a soft landing into a new world. Less mind-numbing than the shoegaze pioneers, The Radio Dept.’s brand of dream pop seemed perfect for lazy music discovery days or the kind of thing you’d put on in the background for ordinary days. I could’ve picked any song off of Pet Grief to highlight, but I’ll go with the exceptional closing track “Always a Relief”.

The tones on the opening drum sequence are a warm welcome, feeling reminiscent of the opening drumbeat in Joy Division’s “Disorder”. “Always a Relief” then slips into its gorgeous minor guitar chords, with. progressions that are almost as resistant to movement as one might be lying in bed on a rainy day. Like many Radio Dept. songs, the lyrics aren’t extensive, and the instrumentation isn’t exactly the most versatile display of the band’s abilities. “Always a Relief” is like a mood piece. A perfect ending to an album full of similarly dreamy moments.

“IT FEELS LIKE OUR TIME HAS GONE TO WASTE.”

"WHITE WINTER HYMNAL" FLEET FOXES (2008)

The moment a song is born, the world is different. It’s now a part of our lives. We sing it in the shower. We dance to it at our wedding. We get pumped with it. We break up to it. We memorize it. We try to forget it. We rediscover it. This month, I’m joining Arron Wright’s Twitter music challenge: ##Popiversary2. Because why the hell not. Songs deserve their own anniversaries, too.

Year: 2008

By no means is Fleet Foxes on the same level as CSN&Y. CSN&Y are music legends, the kind that maybe come around once every 20 years or so if we’re lucky. But Fleet Foxes isn’t that far behind. What Fleet Foxes pulled off in the 21st century is impressive. They put power harmonies center stage once again. And they did it with a folk-inspired sound that’s earthy and natural, a far cry from post-punk, dream pop or any of the key genres of their contemporaries. “White Winter Hymnal” remains one of my go-to Fleet Foxes tracks.

Like many Fleet Foxes songs, “White Winter Hymnal” shimmers with a cascade of echoing melodies from the mountains. The song is sung in rounds, a traditional form of singing that seemed to be given a new lease on life through the ban'd’s trademark harmonies where each vocal part comes in round after round. This approach has a way of sweeping me up and away, regardless of circumstance. And the words overdelivered. They felt more like classic literature than song lyrics, leading me to believe the character Michael was an allegory for something far greater.

“I WAS FOLLOWING THE PACK. ALL SWALLOWED IN THEIR COATS WITH SCARVES OF RED TIED 'ROUND THEIR THROATS.”