The title track from one of my favourite albums of all time, Jim Guthrie's "Now More than Ever" is, ironically, an instrumental track. Ironic because Jim has a particularly adept way with words and my favourite moments of his songs usually lie in the lyrics. The great thing about this title is how personal it is to his work. In the first song on Now More Than Ever, "The Problem with Solutions," Jim laments, "the longer the hesitation, the smaller the celebration," and Jim is all to aware of the timeliness of his movements throughout this record. The title track is the centerpoint of the album, allowing the whole thing to breathe momentarily, while the singer can collect himself.

The phrase "it is what it is" has to be one of the most irritating things ever uttered, and the title to "Let X=X" from Anderson's 1982 debut, Big Science, skims dangerously close to the same sentiment but does so in an unfathomably superior manner. It's an anguished plea, and not an annoyingly self-satisfied cop out.

Kind of a depressing conceit that speaks for itself. At the time, Bowie was a recovering cocaine addict, and it's been said that the title of the record this song comes from, Low, was in part titled due to his "low" moods at the time. A very lovely way to describe feelings of pessimism and self-destruction.

Self-promotion alert! The new project I'm working on has a song called "Diddy Eyes." It's a working title so it will change, but for now, it's called "Diddy Eyes." My bandmate, Honus Honus, and I were watching a 1987 NBA All-Star game replete with some of the biggest players of the game: Magic, Jordan, Bird, Mozart. But there was one who stood out as player of the game. While Jordan was airballing threes and Magic was fumbling his passes, Rolando Blackman was an undeniable force of rebounding skills, deft ball handling and reliable free throwing. The most interesting thing we both noticed was how similar his eyes were to Puff Daddy, aka P. Diddy - beady and very close together.

During the time this song was hitting the airwaves, the pop art movement of the 60s was achieving a newfound respect within the upper crust of the art community, and Joe Meek's in-house backing band, the Tornados were riders on the storm. (ew, I just made a Doors reference).

Eno has always been good at naming songs after what the music sounds like. On "Here Come the Warm Jets," he wasn't naming that after "water play" (also known as a "golden shower"), but rather the similarity of a jet engine to the sounds of the guitars he'd recorded through a modular synthesizer. Same goes for "On Some Faraway Beach." The beginning really does sound like he's calling out from some far off beach, and he's perfectly content to live out his days there.

Moroder, the Italian progenitor of disco, is a producer best known for his work on Donna Summer's "I Feel Love" and his own solo work, "From Here to Eternity." Before synths and dance music were en vogue, Moroder had a U.K. hit with "Son of My Father," the title track from the 1972 Son of My Father. It's his stab at glam rock with a Beatles bent.

This title is funny because that's you, Giorgio!

Simple and succinct. Sometimes you need to learn how to fail.

I have a deep fear or dislike of public dancing, but I've done it before and I can say that it is quite a liberating experience. It can almost be transcendental if done correctly, and it ceases to become about impressive dance moves and more about a pure unadulterated joy from letting the "spirit move you." It's worth noting that Neil Young also has a song that has my least favourite title: "A Man Needs a Maid."

The name of Simon Jeffes' group, Penguin Cafe Orchestra, comes from a dream he had in which he walked into an imaginary venue, the Penguin Cafe, and heard beautiful music. He woke up and tried to recreate that music for the rest of his life. I'm guessing this song is from a dream he imagined Giles Farnaby, a baroque composer from the 16th and 17th century, would have. I bought a Giles Farnaby record at Amoeba Music in Hollywood years and years ago, and it did sound a little like bits of Penguin Cafe.

Wilhelm Reich, an Austrian psychiatrist, invented the Cloudbuster, a rain machine which could break up cloud cover or cause them to form. Kate Bush wrote a very literal telling of the development of the machine and Reich's subsequent incarceration, through the eyes of his son, based on his book, A Book of Dreams.

Sparks has a plethora of funny song titles, from "Lighten up, Morrissey" to "Don't Leave me Alone With Her" and "Barbecutie." This is their most well-known song, from their most well-known record, and it's great because the title is so inherently musical. The way Russell Mael chants the chorus in a clipped staccato, in a crazed rhythmic phrasing, showcases how funny oft-heard phrases can be interpreted in a tuneful way. Another example is Swizz Beatz's "Money in the Bank." When my friend and I used to hear that blaring in Brooklyn a few years back, she remarked how the line "She ain't got no money in the bank" sounds like it may have been an offhanded utterance in conversation that jumped out as being particularly musical and was subsequently written into a song.

There's some juiceboxes in the grocery store near my house called "Juicy Juice." Every time I walk by them, I think of this song and I wonder if that's where they got the song title from.