'Civilization Three,' Professor Murder
From 2007's 'On a Desert Island'

I've been listening to dance music a lot lately -- even in my own apartment, rather than at parties and bars. I want music that makes my feet tap and my hips shake.

Professor Murder is a dance band that sounds refreshingly different. Their music can be narrowly defined as dance punk mixed with island riddims. Imagine them a marching band, with the lead singer blowing a whistle when it's time for the three other members to jump in line. This makes for quite the riotous time, whether you're hearing it through your headphones on the train or through speakers in your apartment. Though of course, as with most party-time dance bands, it's heard best live.

'Let Me In,' Hot Hot Heat
From 2007's 'Happiness Ltd.'

In March of last year, I happened to be vacationing in Hot Hot Heat's home territory of British Columbia. One overcast afternoon, a friend of mine and I picked up some coffee and set about taking a stroll through Vancouver's Stanley Park -- an awesome 1,000 acre expanse surrounded by the Pacific -- when I happened to catch out of the corner of my eye Dustin Hawthorne, HHH bassist, lunching at an outdoor cafe with a friend. We kept walking, but now I wonder if at some point, their conversation turned to recording and the new, then-unreleased 'Happiness Ltd.,' and if Hawthorne ever said something like, 'Dude, we have this badass song. It doesn't have a name yet, but it's gonna be huge. I'm talking like way bigger than 'Bandages' or 'No, Not Now.' Just wait.' I'd like to think he did. His boasting, as far as I'm concerned, would've been totally justified.

So, 'Let Me In.' Let's talk about it. It's good. Like chocolate in your peanut butter good. Like a sunny, 90 degree day at the beach with drinks good.

But why?

'Milkcow's Calf Blues,' Robert Palmer
From 2001's 'Hellhound on My Trail: Songs of Robert Johnson'

Robert Palmer may never shake off his reputation as the sophisticated '80s rocker who was surrounded by supermodels in the 'Addicted to Love' and 'Simply Irresistible' videos. It's really a shame because that's just only one aspect of this Englishman's career. If you look at Palmer's overall body of work, you will find he explored almost every musical genre: pop, hard rock, reggae, New Wave, R&B, funk and standards. In addition to writing his own songs, Palmer has covered material by Allen Toussaint, Little Feat's Lowell George, Marvin Gaye and many others.

Palmer, who sadly died of a heart attack five years ago on Sept. 26 at age 54, also delved into blues music. In 2001, he contributed his rendition of 'Milkcow's Calf Blues' to a Robert Johnson tribute album. On the song, Palmer displays his versatility as a vocalist with a performance that channels the spirit of the legendary bluesman. With excellent musical accompaniment by guitarist Carl Carlton and drummer Mauro Spina, this version of the Johnson song is pure soulful blues.

'I've Been Thinkin',' Handsome Boy Modeling School feat. Cat Power
From 2004's 'White People'

Have you ever had a perfect day? A day where the world floats past you and you are enveloped in a constant and singular sensation of comfort?

My hopes for that perfect day were dashed years ago, on the day when I naively ventured to a chocolate festival -- lured to the long train ride by promises of swimming in a chocolate lake. I obviously did not think it through (in hindsight, it sounds disgusting) but I leapt onto the train, swimsuit on and towel in my hand, followed by two friends decked only in swimshorts. All of our Willy Wonka dreams were dashed upon arrival -- there would be no chocolate lake. Rather, a tub of hot cocoa as a paltry replacement. At that moment I was convinced perfect days didn't exist, that they resided in the same place as Never Never Land, the Hollywood Storybook Ending and whatever dreams Hallmark is selling this year.

My faith was only recently restored, when I unexpectedly happened across that mythical day. It was a gorgeous Southern California spring day, sun-kissed and radiant, with the scorched Indio desert giving way to the cool breeze of the Pacific. 'I've Been Thinkin'' was wafting in the air, providing the picture perfect soundtrack.

'Touch the Hem of His Garment,' Sam Cooke
From 1956

I was born three months premature and deaf, with minimal chance of ever gaining my hearing. On Easter Day four months later, the organs rang out at church, I let out a cry and my hearing was miraculously restored. This early childhood experience and years of worrying about my hearing led to my total obsession with music -- constantly seeking out new discoveries with an insatiable hunger, like an archeologist on a never ending dig, always knowing that hearing was a privilege, not a right, and could easily be lost.

'Touch the Hem of His Garment' by Sam Cooke became the Rosetta Stone of my early searching, a song that to this day, I can't listen to without tearing up. The tears are not of sadness but tears of unexplainable joy, as the plaintive yet comforting wail of Cooke's voice and his innate soulfulness transcends traditional descriptions, and truly brings the listener to a higher, more soulful universe.

'Yes,' McAlmont and Butler
From 1995's 'The Sound of McAlmont and Butler'

'Yes' by McAlmont and Butler is one of those tracks where I can remember exactly what I was doing when I first heard it. I was standing in my friend's bedroom at his parent's house in London in 1995, and he had just bought himself a shiny new stereo system and was dying to show me how great it sounded. He put on a CD he had purloined off the front of a music magazine, and lo and behold! On came 'Yes.'

The song opened to the sound of a guitar being tuned and then a cool muffled Motown-esque backbeat accompanied by swirling strings. This in itself was nothing too unusual, but then David McAlmont's astonishing falsetto came in, grabbed my attention and held it tight. Of course my comment about the drums having that lo-fi sound would not have gone down well with my pal, who was all about his new rig sounding quite the opposite.

'Athene,' Hercules and Love Affair
From 2008's 'Hercules and Love Affair'

I love this song so much, it's my new puppy's middle name. Seriously.

When I found out Brooklyn's Hercules and Love Affair were on the bill for the Hideout Block Party in my homebase of Chicago this Saturday, I was a bit shocked, mostly because it didn't seem like a good pairing given that one of the fest's big names this year is Neko Case. (No offense to Case, but you can't exactly party to 'Deep Red Bells.') But then I realized that HLAF was only playing a DJ set. Not that I'm knocking DJ sets, either. It's an easy way to get up close(r) to artists you like, discover new, obscure music and possibly make a fool out of yourself by sharing that you, too, just love Salt-N-Pepa.

'Lion's Mane,' Iron and Wine
From 2002's 'The Creek Drank the Cradle'

It was in the bittersweet last months of college when I first heard Iron and Wine, and I was immediately warmed by the voice of Sam Beam. 'Lion's Mane' is the first track on the breakout album, 'The Creek Drank the Cradle,' from this then Floridian professor of film. It's acoustic and gentle, and sounds and feels just like a lion's mane -- welI , I'd imagine -- which could be comforting or scary, depending on who you ask.

The tune itself is about love and desire, expressed by beautiful and heartfelt lyrics. "The earth is warmer when you laugh," Beam sings. "So I'll clear the road, the gravel and the thorn bush in your path."

'Sweet Black Angel,' Rolling Stones
From 1972's 'Exile on Main St.'

This acoustic, country and blues-tinged track off the widely hailed 'Exile on Main St.,' is one of the best Rolling Stones songs of all time. At first listen, the tune seems a bit racist and derogatory to women, but the song was actually written in defense of political activist Angela Davis, who was accused of murder, kidnapping and conspiracy in 1970.

"She's a sweet black angel/Not a gun toting teacher/Not a Red lovin' school mom/Ain't someone gonna free her/ Free the sweet black slave/Free the sweet black slave," Mick Jagger sings.

'Ce Jeu,' Yelle
From 2007

I grew up spending every summer in France with my Mom's family, initially clinging to my cassettes of Madonna and Cyndi Lauper in order to escape endless language barriers. However, my thirst for music soon overpowered my linguistic shyness. I quickly discovered my first huge love in Francophile music -- a sassy pop star named Lio who sang the 1986 hit 'Les Brunes Comptent Pas Pour Des Prunes.' It was a brunette anthem, enticing boys to stay with their saucy brunettes, not textbook blondes -- an ode to Sophia Loren and the Mona Lisa. I was a blonde at the time, but I instinctively identified with future that laid in store for my roots.

Flashforward 20 years. I have forgotten the lessons of my youth -- shamelessly abandoned for "natural" highlights and Brigitte Bardot over Loren. Miraculously, as if the French pop-Gods realized how far I had strayed, I was brought a belated yet tantalizing remnant of my youth; this time in the form of another funky dark haired vixen, Lio's hipper musical "sister" Yelle.