80. Do You Love Me –
The Contours
Interestingly, The Contours
established the idea of romancing someone through dance with this 60s groover.
Equally interesting is that it was originally written for The Temptations. A
springy, startlingly uplifting story of winning a sweetheart’s affection
through sheer pragmatism, innocent devotion, and, of course, mastering The
Twist and The Mashed Potato. As adorable as it is, it’d be nothing without The
Funk Brothers’ surprisingly aggressive instrumentation, the cheeriest of piano
riffs being thumped to the beat of endless snares and hi-hats. Billy Gordon’s conquering
scream is awesome, ‘WATCH ME NOW!’, but my favourite part is the sardonically disguised
false ending.
SEE ALSO: ‘It’s The Same Old
Song’ – The Four Tops, ‘Rescue Me’ – Fontella Bass
79. Anthems For A
Seventeen Year Old Girl – Broken Social Scene
In my opinion, one the most
innately beautiful songs of all-time. The build-up is modest, humble; strings
and banjos go about their bars with a quaint stoicism to the laid-bare
helplessness present in the voices of Feist, Millan and particularly Haines. As
the title suggests, ‘Anthems’ is about adolescence, but it’s specifically
concerned with Haines. She looks lovingly back at the person she was growing
up, the rebellious, confused youth who morphed into the uninspired middle class
woman she’s quietly, tragically dissatisfied with; ‘used to be one of the
rotten ones and I liked you for that/now you’re all gone.’
SEE ALSO: ‘Stars And Sons’ – Broken Social Scene, ‘New
Slang’ – The Shins
78. Grindin – Clipse
‘Grindin’ began the ‘sparse’ fad
of hip-hop production and it’s easy to see why: despite the simplicity of its
percussion it’s almost aggrandised, a slamming, clapping, monster; the most
eternally Herculean beat. Thematically, it’s fascinatingly distinctive, a
dedication to the blue collar worker and their efforts to grind out a living…
as a cocaine dealer. Pusha T and Malice dismiss the hype of being a
drug-dealing gangsta’, purporting its ordinariness as a business, ‘I move
‘caine like a cripple.’ Pharrell’s shrill intrusions of ‘grindIIIIINNNNNN’ are
equally, unsettlingly poised. It shouldn’t be, but it’s one of the noughties’
coolest hip-hop tracks.
SEE ALSO: ‘Trill’ – Clipse,
‘Hacker’ – Death Grips
77. Alison – Slowdive
Slowdive remain one of the most
underappreciated bands of the 90s because, as Nitsuh Abebe explicably notes,
they weren’t quite as good as My Bloody Valentine. This is a tremendous shame:
their sound is constructed by hazy, languid, exquisitely textured guitar
melodies and Neil Halstead’s brooding, intense vocals. ‘Alison’ is an
intervention with a drug-addicted, nihilistic friend, a corporeal, bittersweet
imploration. Halstead is pained by Alison’s anarchic self-destruction and her
refusal to return his love. She rejects his appeal, ‘you laugh and tell me it’s
just fine’, and the concluding guitar crash paints his face of exhausted
despair.
SEE ALSO: ‘When The Sun Hits’ –
Slowdive, ‘Just Like Honey’ – Jesus And Mary Chain
76. One Day, After
School – Arab Strap
I love Aidan Moffat. He’s
Glaswegian, working-middle class, left-wing and a hopelessly angsty romantic.
What’s not to love? Him, according to his first significant girlfriend. A
quiet, leisurely stroll through Moffat’s emotional turmoil, ‘One Day, After
School’ educes the archetypal pain of a (unconventional) breakup with an
unabashed, indefatigable honesty and plainness; ‘she chucked me, then chucked
me out, and I cried all over the bus’. It’s a composed revelation, except for
one fleeting moment where Moffat shatters, ‘she came away with some pish about
still being friends’. Like all of Arab Strap’s work, it’s sincere, viciously
so.
SEE ALSO: ‘The First Big Weekend’
– Arab Strap, ‘Cherubs’ – Arab Strap
75. Suffocation –
Crystal Castles
Perhaps not my favourite Crystal
Castles song, but the one I believe to be the most concise synthesis of their
searing 8-bit basement electronica and smoky, hypnotic witch-house. Ethan Kath’s
symphonic, overpowering synthesisers collide with Alice Glass’ exposed whisper-cum-shriek
in a cacophonic assault on the ears, ‘you’ve waited for something/waited in
vain’, similarly to ‘Alice Practice’ and ‘Sad Eyes’. Crucially though, Kath’s
production settles, providing Glass with time to breathe and articulate; ‘I’m
wasting my days as I’ve wasted my nights and I’ve wasted my youth’. A harrowing
indictment of hedonism, and a brilliantly hypocritical one at that.
SEE ALSO: ‘Vanished’ – Crystal Castles,
‘Wrath of God’ – Crystal Castles
74. Sympathy For The
Devil – The Rolling Stones
No prizes for guessing what this
song is about. Unless you delight in small victories, then… *pats head*. An
expansive masterpiece which covers the entire history of mankind, from the
death of Jesus to the assassination of the Kennedys. Jagger’s epically narcissistic
first-person narrative is both terrifying, ‘if you meet me, have some courtesy…or
I’ll lay your soul to waste’, and ceaselessly cool thanks to its adoption of
samba rock in its shaky percussion, Richards’ idiosyncratic guitar weaving in
and out of verses, and Jagger’s bizarre mutation into high falsetto near the
song’s fade out. Rock-n-Roll’s Paradise
Lost.
SEE ALSO: 'Gimme Shelter' – The Rolling
Stones, 'Thru And Thru' – The Rolling Stones
73. Runaway – Del
Shannon
The original break-up song for
the post-modern age, Del Shannon meditates on his dating failures while drenched in
iconic sounds of 50s/60s Americana; the clinkety piano, surf-rock guitar riff
and clavioline (one of the first ever synthesisers) solo. Instantly
recognisable from its unforgettable vocal hook, that ‘wah, wah, wah’ that expresses romantic anguish more candidly than Rabby Burns or John Donne could ever
hope to achieve, ‘Runaway’ features an immensely clever switch-up: after
referring to his ex in maligned third-person, he addresses her directly, ‘wishin’
you were her by me’. The definition of a timeless classic.
SEE ALSO: 'Duke Of Earl' – Gene Chandler, 'Runaround Sue' – Dion And The Belmonts
72. Baba O’Riley –
The Who
What initially sounds like an anthem
for the teenage individual is actually a surprisingly philosophical, and
instrumentally grand, tribute to the transcendence of the human spirit. In
fact, it condemns the excessive drug-use at Woodstock. ‘Baba O’Riley’ is
Townshend’s vision of what would happen if the soul of his spiritual guru was
transported into music through a computer. The song itself is huge, not just in
its meaning, but in its scale. There is an incorrigible vastness in the way
Keith Moon absolutely plasters his drums, Townshend hammers the piano keys, and
Dave Arbus shreds the violin, especially in the coda.
SEE ALSO: 'Behind Blue Eyes' – The Who, 'Pinball Wizard' – The Who
71. I Luv U – Dizzee Rascal
Dizzee’s debut single, and,
arguably, his finest insight into contemporary society. The text-speak of the
title connotes a barefaced immaturity, only emphasised by the song’s purposely insipid,
chilling sample ‘I love you’ – a clear indication that this avowal is bullshit.
Dizzee spits about his hurt pride when his girlfriend starts blackmailing him
with sex once he falls for a college girl, the argumentative refrain embodying
the cruellest of relationship fights; a rap battle of the sexes. The sharp,
uncomfortable synthesisers and grainy kick-drums offer the 16 year-old Dizzee the
opportunity to contort ‘I Luv U’ into something both funny and horrifying.
SEE ALSO: ‘Fix Up, Look Sharp’ –
Dizze Rascal, ‘Jezebel’ – Dizzee Rascal
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