All Time Favourite Songs #40-31

40. Hey – Pixies

Pixies basically invented Indie Rock, but to confine them to any sort of genre classifications would be insulting: they’re funny and puerile yet disturbing and political: they’re childishly extravagant yet elegantly accomplished: they’re radio-friendly yet flippantly avant-garde. ‘Hey’ is Black, Deal and co. at their darkest, a pensively contemptuous blast of anti-establishment ponderings masquerading as some guy complaining about being oversexed, ‘go “uh” all night… we’re chained’. Or is it just about the emptiness of sex addiction? Regardless, the funkiness of the bass guitar gives ‘Hey’ a soulful, aromatic quality distinguishing it from an already ingeniously diverse album.

SEE ALSO: ‘Gouge Away’ – Pixies, ‘Caribou’ – Pixies

39. The Rat – The Walkmen

Even the most contemplative pickings from early Walkmen taste boisterous and unhinged, but ‘The Rat’ is off the scale. It’s not so much a song as an experience, a deranged, abrasive kick to the face. The backstory, although not necessary, contextualises well; an ex who trampled Hamilton Leithauser’s heart calls him up and voices her regret in breaking up with him. Leithauser unleashes himself and his tag team of malevolent guitars, drums and bass on her, and us, ‘you’ve got a nerve to be asking a favour’. This is pure, uncut, violent emotion powered by fury, pain and miscomprehension. After the antagonism wanes he’s left with nothing, ‘now I go out alone if I go out at all’.

SEE ALSO: ‘On The Water’ – The Walkmen, ‘Heaven’ – The Walkmen

38. Turn The Page – The Streets

Has there ever been an opening track as thematically encompassing, as tonally representative, or as downright magnificent as ‘Turn The Page’?  The most discomforting, attention-grabbing string sample begins to slap you about and refuses to stop for three-and-a-half minutes. Skinner ruminates on death and killing, specifically related to his Roman ancestry, and then coils the gaudy imagery into a promise to destroy every other Grime MC. Now, ‘I’m better than you, bruv’ tracks are hardly sporadic, Kendrick’s verse on Big Sean’s ‘Control’ being the most markedly recent, but rarely have they sounded so punishingly tense.

SEE ALSO: ‘Blinded By The Lights’ – The Streets, ‘It’s Too Late’ – The Streets

37. Da Funk – Daft Punk

Homework is still Daft Punk’s best album and ‘Da Funk’ is still Daft Punk’s best song. It was the track which united the Indie scenesters and the rave kids, its eccentric amalgamation of new-wave Trip-Hop beats (and what a beat) and, supposedly anachronistic, House song-structure crafting a dance anthem which can only really be described as ‘universal’. Daft Punk turn what should be a backing drum loop into the centrepiece, the space between each mechanic hit as important as the malleable synth line. Its greatest achievement is that its exacting precision remains undented by its determination to barrage you into wild abandon.

SEE ALSO: ‘One More Time’ – Daft Punk, ‘Around The World’ – Daft Punk

36. Christmas Card From A Hooker In Minneapolis – Tom Waits

Most songs could be improved by Waits’ gargling, slurring croon, but in ‘Christmas Card’ he adapts and eclipses the written word rather than the spoken, the lyrics being ripped from a Charles Bukowski poem, Charlie I’m Pregnant. The crinkly yet sombre jazz piano conjures up a crisp Winter evening in some nameless American city, the melodious setting of one of the most devastating pieces of music I’ve ever heard. It’s initially heart-warming, gentle, even funny, ‘I think about you every time I pass a fillin’ station/account of all the grease you used to wear’, but when the truth is blurted out in the final verse, it, and you, are inconsolable.

SEE ALSO: ‘Gun Street Girl’ – Tom Waits, ‘Hell Broke Luce’ – Tom Waits

35. Straight Outta Compton – NWA

You are about to witness the strength of influence-of-‘Straight Outta Compton’-on-gangsta-rap knowledge. This is Rap’s genesis, this is where it all began; no more stories of meeting pals at the deli for a cold soda on a warm day, no more tales of buying plumed hats with your sweetheart; as Ice Cube concisely states, ‘do I look like a motherfuckin’ role model?’. NWA dragged America kicking and screaming into a new, perversely evil era of hip hop, one gesticulated by a siren-imbued, rampantly erratic beat and impertinent, filthy rhymes which still shock even in a world in which Tyler, The Creator operates.

SEE ALSO: ‘Fuck Tha’ Police’ – NWA, ‘Wicked’ – Ice Cube

34. Dancing On My Own – Robyn

I’m in love with Robyn because of her enigmatic, empowering arrogance, yet her best song sees her emphatically vulnerable, at her most insecure; standing alone in a club, gazing helplessly at the boy she can never have, ‘I’m right over here, why can’t you see me?’. The production is immaculate, the dense synth lines and thunderous kick-drums composing the chorus signal her mission of seduce and destroy. It’s vintage Robyn. The chorus strips this back to something unheard of: the drums subside: the synths loosen: her confidence dissipates in a foggy cloud of dry ice. The razor sharp ‘Stilettos and broken bottles’ line refer to the daggers entering her decadent heart, and so she has no other option than to dance.

SEE ALSO: ‘Be Mine!’ – Robyn, ‘I Belong In Your Arms’ – Chairlift

33. What’s Going On? – Marvin Gaye

In What’s Going On? Marvin Gaye translated his own internal crisis into a globalised plea for peace; he had lost his friend and duet partner Tammi Terrell to a brain tumour and was stuck in a vindictive marriage with Anna Gordy. Each respective comment on race, war and poverty is validated by Gaye’s private torment, providing an enduringly resonant song with an (importantly) intimate touch. The light jazzy-cum-Motown arrangement is nothing more than a soundtrack for Gaye’s compelling imploration. He commented after its release, ‘if I was arguing for peace, I knew I had to find peace in my heart’.

SEE ALSO: ‘I Heard It Through The Grapevine’ – Marvin Gaye, ‘Mercy Mercy Me (The Ecology)’ – Marvin Gaye

32. Peach Plum Pear – Joanna Newsom

‘Peach Plum Pear’ is normally the first Joanna Newsom song you hear, and it’s not uncommon to hate it. But the song, just like Newsom’s voice, grows on you until you honestly can’t cope without it. The harpsichord remains consistent, but the way its melody twists, turns and reboots around her (for some, offputtingly) waifish vocals is incredible. The cute, childlike assonance of the opening lines, ‘we speak in the store/I’m a sensitive bore’, collapses rapidly and Newsom is left bare; a ghost of paranoia, fear and rejection. ‘Peach Plum Pear’ is a love song about the tragedy of missed opportunity, the heart-rending interruption in the final line testifies to that.

SEE ALSO: ‘Clam, Crab, Cockle, Cowrie’ – Joanna Newsom, ‘Emily’ – Joanna Newsom

31. Kashmir – Led Zeppelin

‘Kashmir’ is the least melodramatic rock-opera of all time; it possesses all the grandeur and none of the camp. Led Zeppelin’s experiment in orchestral stadium rock was inspired by a seemingly endless road in the Sahara Desert, ‘oh let the sun beat down upon my face’. Plant described ‘Kashmir’ as ‘bigger than [him]… I was petrified. I was virtually in tears’, such is its apocalyptic scale and innately terrifying power. The now notorious chord progression generates a frenziedly sinister tension, hardly pacified by Plant’s towering falsetto and John Paul Jones’ exuberantly unnerving string arrangement.  And, oh God, that scream.

SEE ALSO: ‘When The Levee Breaks’ – Led Zeppelin, ‘Stairway To Heaven’ – Led Zeppelin

All Time Favourite Songs #50-41

50. Passing Me By – The Pharcyde

Up until recently heartbreak was a relatively uncommon theme in hip hop, and even when it was touched upon it was anger rather than plaintive hurt which seemed to reverberate most. The trend has bucked recently with the likes of Earl Sweatshirt and Childish Gambino unafraid to expose their vulnerable side, but the original, The Pharcyde’s ‘Passing Me By’, remains the best, a sequence of unapologetically frank accounts of unrequited love. At the time of its release it was drowned out by prodigiously masculine gangsta rap, but the fearless, self-effacing heart of Fatlip’s verse aches like no confession, before or since.

SEE ALSO: 'Shook Ones Pt. 2' – Mobb Deep, 'Officer' – The Pharcyde

49. Sinnerman – Nina Simone

Perhaps biblical jazz-blues isn’t the most obvious addition to this list, but Nina Simone’s captivating masterpiece entrenches itself steadfastly in your subconscious. It’s an incredibly personal (Simone has known all the words since she was five), deeply immersive performance; she’s howling in exasperation, her incensed, heavy breathing completely audible and terrifyingly real. The blistering momentum of the irrepressible piano and hi-hats in the first two minutes carry Simone’s contralto on a throne of divine authority (and condemnation?) before her purifying collapse into flamboyant worship ‘Power! [power to the Lord]’ drags us down into some mystifying, inexplicable enchantment.

SEE ALSO: ‘I Put A Spell On You’ – Nina Simone, ‘My Baby Just Cares For Me’ – Nina Simone

48. As I Sat Sadly By Her Side – Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds

Nick Cave, the hero of noir-rock, recites his equivocally formed, headily dark myths with a graceful dominion under whichever moniker he adopts, be it the punkish informality of Grinderman or the folk-sheened primness of his Bad Seeds. My favourite song by his is a conversational duel between optimism and pessimism; Cave and his wife debate the nature of the secular and spiritual worlds, Cave embodying the voice of cynicism, his wife, the idealist. The argument intensifies, and so does the instrumentation, the flakey piano riff bouncing off the moody strings, fashioning a song as enjoyable as it is thought-provoking.

SEE ALSO: ‘Teenage Spaceship’ – Smog, ‘This Is How We Walk On The Moon’ – Arthur Russell

47. London Calling – The Clash

The obvious choice really, but ‘London Calling’ is unavoidably the definitive example of Strummer’s musical virtuosity and political relevance. ‘London Calling’ is a desperate plea for help: The Clash were without a manager and being slowly consumed by debt: the UK’s infrastructure was collapsing; rising unemployment, widespread substance abuse, racial and cultural tensions, ‘meltdown expected, the wheat is growing thin’. The jabbing guitars, carried in unison by Strummer and Jones, mechanically exact drumming, and impudent bass summon an urgency to corroborate Strummer’s distressing lament. As wretchedly resonant today as it was in the late 70s.

SEE ALSO: ‘Train In Vain’ – The Clash, ‘Anarchy In The UK’ – The Sex Pistols

46. Fight The Power – Public Enemy

From one significant piece of political-musical history to another, Public Enemy’s riotous ‘Fight The Power’ was blasted into the public cognizance on the back of Spike Lee’s 1989 magnum opus Do The Right Thing. Public Enemy recently derided mainstream rappers, Jay-Z etc., for concentrating on ‘self-mythologising’ and ‘artist branding’, rather than the music, and the message. ‘Fight The Power’ is the anti ’99 Problems’, a jarringly hardnosed call for revolution and evolution. They chastise icons of Americana, ‘Elvis was a hero to millions… but he was straight out racist a sucker, it’s simple and plain,’ to the most electrifying psych-ups of beats.

SEE ALSO: ‘Harder Than You Think’ – Public Enemy, ‘Black Steel In The Hour Of Chaos’ – Public Enemy

45. Boy From School – Hot Chip

Hot Chip are the nerdy maestros of indie dance-pop, their employment of synthesisers, samples and drum machines more original, more intelligent and just funkier than anything their rivals could possibly hope to muster. ‘Over And Over’ is their grooviest, but ‘Boy From School’ is a hazy pop classic. Swirling around their most perfect assembly of synth lines and hi-hat loops is the band’s weary sigh of teenage missed opportunity. It positively reeks of nostalgia; ‘I got lost/you said this was the way back’. However it’s not languid or pensive, but actually gentrifies adolescent alienation into some sort of disco-infused meditation, the most kinetic of self-reflections.

SEE ALSO: ‘Over And Over’ – Hot Chip, ‘Ready For The Floor’ – Hot Chip

44. The City – The Dismemberment Plan

The Dismemberment Plan are possibly the best Indie Rock band of the late 90s, their insatiable riffs, chantalong choruses and succinct, constitutional understanding of what the genre means to so many people elevated them into the heads and hearts of millions. ‘The City’ is a song for everyone who’s ever felt alone in a crowd; ‘the ghosts of graffiti they couldn’t quite erase’. It’s also a (very clever) break-up song, Travis Morrison’s ex-lover leaves and it completely changes the perception of his metropolitan home, ‘the parks lay empty like my unmade bed’, yet he can’t bring himself to pack up and go. Morrison’s excruciating indecision culminates in the monumentally trashy refrain; ‘the city’s been dead/since you been gone’.

SEE ALSO: ‘The Ice Of Boston’ – The Dismemberment Plan, ‘What Do You Want Me To Say’ – The Dismemberment Plan

43. Slow Show – The National

‘Slow Show’ was one of the first songs to suffer the band’s experimental perfectionism (they’d record 50-80 versions of a track). To be fair, it is absolutely flawless. Humble guitars and unobtrusive percussion resound while Berninger (and his orgasmic baritone) relates his social discomfort, his inadequacy in communicating with other people. Then enters the girl who dispels these fears, who makes him feel normal, and loved; it’s a beautiful service to this liberating relationship, the immediacy of the pounding drums suggesting a euphoric epiphany. It closes with my favourite ever couplet, ‘you know I dreamed about you/for twenty-nine years, before I saw you’.

SEE ALSO: ‘About Today’ – The National, ‘England’ – The National

42. Get Me Away From Here I’m Dying – Belle & Sebastian

Glasgow’s Belle & Sebastian are so determinedly, wistfully light that they’re just as despised as they are loved. I cannot understand that. They’re poppy, so what? When they make songs as profoundly affecting as ‘Get Me Away’, who cares if Stuart Murdoch chooses to giggle rather than scream his pain? The opening two lines reveal its purpose; ‘get me away from here I’m dying/play me a song to set me free’. It’s a piece of music about music, and its ability to cheer you up, to console, to make you laugh, to make you cry, ‘I always cry at endings’. And you know what? It does cheer you up; it does console. It’s a celebration of the power of the guitar and the voice as a form of escapism.

SEE ALSO: ‘Dress Up In You’ – Belle & Sebastian, ‘I’m Waking Up To Us’ – Belle & Sebastian

41. Penny Lane – The Beatles

The only contention in music more tiresome than ‘The Beatles are the best band ever okay cool’ is ‘The Beatles are the most overrated band ever okay cool’. Can’t we all just agree that they are really, really good and leave it at that? ‘Penny Lane’ is McCartney’s response to Lennon’s ‘Strawberry Fields Forever’, his own memoir of that famous Liverpool bus stop. I love the richness of the imagery, ‘there is a fireman with an hour glass/and in his pocket is a portrait of the queen’, its glorious colour exploding with the good nature of the city's inhabitants. What’s amazing is how ‘Penny Lane’ is applicable for everyone, the unwavering pride and passion one feels about their hometown.

SEE ALSO: ‘Eleanor Rigby’ – The Beatles, ‘Nowhere Man’ – The Beatles

All Time Favourite Songs #60-51

60. Autumn Sweater – Yo La Tengo

‘Autumn Sweater’ is referred to as ‘Indie Rock’s greatest make-out song’, assumedly because of its low-key romanticism, the kind OC and 90210 music researchers fall head over six-inch heels for. Personally, I love it because it’s an amalgamation of Yo La Tengo’s folk leanings, lo-fi shoegaze cuddliness, and intrinsic ‘poptimism’, the impenitent embracing of pop music in defiance of the disdain of purist musical snobs. It isn’t a love song, or a lust song, but a marriage between the two. Ira Kaplan’s soft monotone examines the evanescent moments of anxiousness, the entwined hope and fear entrenched in love’s beginnings.

SEE ALSO: ‘Damage’ – Yo La Tengo, ‘Tears Are In Your Eyes’ – Yo La Tengo

59. I Am The Resurrection – The Stone Roses

Though the concept of being a Stone Roses fan has been hijacked by quiffed, top-buttoned, NME-subscribed ‘Mods’, the same group secretly uncomfortable with Morrissey’s (a?)sexuality and chuffed that Pete Doherty is 10% human/90% uncut cocaine, their music, in particular their incredible debut album, remains the yardstick by which all contemporary British Indie Rock is measured. ‘I Am The Resurrection’ sounds like the epic finale of an ambitious musical, a rapturous resolution of the moral questions posed by the pensive opener, ‘I Wanna Be Adored’. Ian Brown achieves self-realisation and revels in it through a triumphant four-minute instrumental.

SEE ALSO: ‘I Wanna Be Adored’ – The Stone Roses, ‘A New England’ – Billy Bragg

58. Simon Says – Pharoahe Monch

It’s simple. Pharoahe Monch sampled the Godzilla theme tune by taking a four-note, rising brass section, and when speeding it up, decided to make it the lynchpin around which ‘Simon Says’ was built. The end product? Immortality. Monch is revered for his clever wordplay, making his introductory line, a hostilely simple command, ‘get the fuck up’, startlingly effective. Its ‘oh I’m sorry, did you not hear me?’ follow up even more so; ‘Simon says GET THE FUCK UP’. It isn’t smart, but it’s about as enjoyably corrupting as hip hop gets. The ultimate diss-track, directed at no one in particular.

SEE ALSO: ‘Vital Nerve’ – Company Flow, ‘Got Your Money’ – Ol Dirty Bastard

57. Blind – Hercules And Love Affair

Antony Hegarty is the trembling, ghostly voice of one of the noughties’ most brilliant folk bands, Antony & The Johnsons, and yet here he is, the heart and soul of the decade’s finest house track. The composition is flawless; the timing of the hi-hats, the thumping firmness of the bass guitar line, and the exultant blast of trumpet in the bridge. But naturally it’s Hegarty’s song. The fragile despairing over his loss of innocence is awe-inspiringly emotive, introducing the idea that dancing is an innate response in order to feel alive, and to fight against the inevitability of loneliness.

SEE ALSO: ‘House Of Jealous Lovers’ – The Rapture, ‘Me And Giuliani Down By The Schoolyard’ - !!!

56. Stuck Between Stations – The Hold Steady

The music industry is comprised of ingenius composers and expressive poets, but also fantastic storytellers; Bob Dylan, Neil Young for example, or contemporarily, Frank Turner and Conor Oberst. Perhaps the greatest of them all however, is The Hold Steady’s Craig Finn. On ‘Stuck Between Stations’ classic rock guitars and bursts of euphoric piano form the soundtrack to Finn’s just-before-midlife-crisis-crisis, inspired by Sal Paradise’s post-adolescent disillusionment in ‘On The Road’. That’s right. I’m advertising Kerouac and the Beat writers yet again. Lyrically dense, witty, undoubtedly moving, it’s a slice of timelessness; ‘Boys and girls in America have such a sad time together’.

SEE ALSO: ‘Constructive Summer’ – The Hold Steady, ‘You Can Make Him Like You’ – The Hold Steady

55. The Leader Of The Pack – The Shangri Las

It begins with an ominous humming and a coarse thud of a piano chord, an indication of the morbidity to come. ‘The Leader Of The Pack’ settles briefly into spoken-word before Mary Weiss implodes, almost farcically, in anguish; ‘I MET HIM AT THE CANDY STORE’. The clever production foreshadows the accident, in the tumbling percussion and recurrent motorcycle revs. It captures richly the aggrandised melodrama of adolescence, but with the subtext of a destined unfairness reminiscent of a Shakespearean tragedy; the night she’s forced to break up with the fancyeable rebel by her father, he dies in a car crash.

SEE ALSO: ‘Out In The Streets’ – The Shangri Las, ‘Give Him A Great Big Kiss’ – The Shangri Las

54. Nutmeg – Ghostface Killah

The gargantuan entrance theme from the best non-Kanye mixtape of the noughties, ‘Nutmeg’ presents Ghostface at his most proudly domineering, and his most intelligent. The duet of throbbing beat and renovated sample (from Eddie Holman’s ‘It’s Over’) is seamless, and RZA’s guest verse is all kinds of insane, but Ghostface himself is unavoidably the star. He controls everything like a lyrical puppet-master: triple rhymes, double metaphors, more pop culture references than you could shake a DVD of Community at, ‘Aiyyo spiced out Calvin Coolers, lounging with seven duellers’. Arguably the best thing to emerge from the ashes of Wu Tang’s break-up.

SEE ALSO: ‘Ice Cream’ – Raekwon, ‘4^th Chamber’ – GZA

53. Ya Hey – Vampire Weekend

Before Modern Vampires Of The City, Vampire Weekend were the unequivocal masters of guitar-pop, generating incessantly the fluffiest, most refreshingly light tunes in Indie music. Their 3^rd album, though thankfully keeping Ezra Koenig’s colourful wordplay, represented an impressive thematic maturation, covering the three-way relationship between life, faith and death. God is an omniscient presence on Modern Vampires, no more so than on ‘Ya Hey’. Koenig’s songwriting genius shines through in the vibrant arrangement, but it’s his internal conflict over the implications of an omnipotent entity which really hit home, ‘I think in your heart/you’ve seen the mistake/but you let it go’.

SEE ALSO: ‘Walcott’ – Vampire Weekend, ‘Hannah Hunt’ – Vampire Weekend

52. Midnight City – M83

It’s testament to Anthony Gonzalez’s brilliance that ‘Midnight City’ is concurrently an expansive synth-pop dansterpiece and an impassioned, breath-taking defence of club culture. One thing you can never criticise Gonzalez of being is understated; all four of his (consistently magnificent) LPs possess an affable grandiosity, but this blows everything out of the water: the immutable sense of nostalgia emanating from the catchy synths, the vivacious drums in the bridge, and the climactic saxophone in the coda which serves as the ultimate release from the song’s enveloping claws. It’s transcendent, it’s forever. The best pop song of the decade so far.

SEE ALSO: ‘Kim And Jessie’ – M83, ‘Raconte-Moi Une Histoire’ – M83

51. Sometimes – My Bloody Valentine

Loveless is potentially the most written about album this side of Dark Side Of The Moon. Articles range from praising its mind-blowing blend of abrasion and melody, the so-called ‘shoegaze effect’, to a surprisingly convincing theory that it annotates birth, the first hour of existence. ‘Sometimes’ is its most typical track, Kevin Shields’ layered vocals operating the most sedately textured guitar riffs you’ll ever hear. It’s just lovely. There’s no better word for it. While not reaching the psychedelic cool of ‘Only Shallow’ or the arena thrills of ‘When You Sleep’, ‘Sometimes’ stands on its own as their most exquisitely chilled.

SEE ALSO: ‘To Here Knows When’ – My Bloody Valentine, ‘When You Wake (You’re Still In A Dream)' – My Bloody Valentine

All Time Favourite Songs #70-61

70. Heartbeats – The Knife

An ambiguous documentary of the prototypical intense love affair. It’s weird; despite the passionate effusion of the synth arrangement ‘Heartbeats’ is strangely delicate, soft. The disparate soundscape is even more apparent in Andersson’s voice, its ethereal elusiveness conflicting with the fervent sentimentality of her feeling, ‘we had a promise made/we were in love’. It originally seems like a nostalgic ode to lost love (if you only concentrate on the refrain), but it’s actually a charming fable, an enlightening saga of that perfect, life-affirming romance, tweaked to the realms of fairy-tale by one of The Knife’s most benevolent compositions.

SEE ALSO: ‘Silent Shout’ – The Knife, ‘Oblivion’ – Grimes

69. Get Ur Freak On – Missy Elliott

Featuring the second eternally exuberant cry of ‘BITCH’ on this list so far, ‘Get Ur Freak On’ is brilliantly bonkers. Timbaland’s jungle drums sound out the absurdity while the creepiest bhangra sample wallows in the shadows: there’s even room for synths from some terrible 60s B movie. Missy Elliot here is cartoon, dictator and surrealist, there’s an unhinged mania to her that is somehow enchanting, even when she deviates her flow into more a traditional sing-song style there’s still a dangerous, awe-inspiring cockiness pouring through her collected façade, ‘I know you hear me loud/I scream it loud and proud’.

SEE ALSO: ‘Pass That Dutch’ – Missy Elliott, ‘Werkin Girls’ – Angel Haze

68. No Children – The Mountain Goats

The term ‘delightfully spiteful’ springs to mind. Not so much a break-up song as a promise of mutually assured destruction, ‘No Children’ exhibits John Darnielle firing on all cylinders. It symbolises his shift rightwards from his lo-fi folk leanings, and he celebrates the betrayal of his indie principles in the most viciously hateful way. As you’d expect from Darnielle he wittily lays out sprightly, buoyant guitar/piano riffs while devastating his wife with the most prejudiced discourse. They’re not getting divorced, they’re fated to drown together in a spiral of animosity, ‘hand in unloveable hand.’ It’s precise, ruthless, uncompromising, completely intolerant resentment, and I love it.

SEE ALSO: 'This Year' – The Mountain Goats, 'The Mess Inside' – The Mountain Goats

67. Car – Built To Spill

Alongside Pavement, Built To Spill are my favourite 90s Alt-Rock band. I have a lot to thank them for: finding the Holy-Grail middle ground between Sonic Youth’s angstscapes and Pixies’ Indie Rock formulations, inspiring Isaac Brock in The Lonesome Crowded West, and writing my 67^th favourite song. They’re capable of creating eight-minute rock epics, but it’s intimate ‘pop-rock’ like ‘Car’ where Built To Spill really shine. It’s a catchy ballad, but hardly straightforward structurally, Doug Martsch’s winding lyrics sneer at songwriting conventions while the cello that accompanies the chorus delivers a magical sheen, ‘I wanna see movies of my dreams’.

SEE ALSO: ‘Carry The Zero’ – Built To Spill, ‘Else’ – Built To Spill

66. 93 Til Infinity – Souls Of Mischief

’93 Til Infinity’ is the most beautiful hip-hop song ever recorded. Its layered production is soothingly underwhelming, having more in common with Spiritualized than Ice Cube, you can’t help but love the way it circulates behind the verses. Beyond its feeling, is its meaning. The members of Souls Of Mischief recount their daily lives; women; money; food, not exactly innovative subject matter, but it’s delivered with an appealing contentedness that suggests a sort of slacker empowerment, ‘this is how we chill from 93 til…’. ‘93’ is a vision of humanity without the stresses of responsibility, an aspirational ease and breeziness.

SEE ALSO: ‘The Choice Is Yours’ – Black Sheep, ‘Concrete Schoolyard’ – Jurassic 5

65. Loser – Beck

Surely one of the most fun songs of the nineties, ‘Loser’ propelled Beck into the mainstream. It’s been interpreted by some as cool and cryptic when it’s really just silly and ludicrous, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that; ‘in the time of chimpanzees I was a monkey’ isn’t an elaborate metaphor, it’s excellently nonsensical. It epitomises Beck’s unique blend of rock, blues, folk and hip-hop sensibilities; producer Carl Stephenson loops Beck’s country guitar and (terrible) rapping while throwing his own drum and sitar tracks into the mix. It’s simultaneously self-parodic pop trash and underground avant-garde.

SEE ALSO: ‘Lost Cause’ – Beck, ‘Devil’s Haircut’ – Beck

64. I See A Darkness – Bonnie Prince Billy

Will Oldham is a strong contender for the best country singer-songwriter of all-time. There’s an inherent naturalism to him, his drunken-angel vocals hanging over the simplest, most pleasant melodies with a mystifying otherworldliness. Yet, as shown in ‘I See A Darkness’, his poetry is inescapably grounded in reality. It’s just as prudently crafted and spare as his other work, but he’s never made anything as misanthropically depressing, ‘That its dreadful antiposition comes blacking in my mind’. Heavy stuff. It’s an internalised suicide debate and a desperate hope for the camaraderie and trust of companionship.

SEE ALSO: ‘New Partner’ – Palace Music, ‘Nomadic Revery (All Around)’ – Bonnie Prince Billy

63. Insomnia – Faithless

The first six minutes of ‘Insomnia’ is the best kind of debauch. It’s gratuitously dark, depraved trance. There’s unnervingly restrained strings, downplayed drums, the faintest hint of a bassline echoing somewhere in the track’s cupboard, and it’s effectively moody house music. Maxi Jazz’s dissolute explanation of insomnia’s correlation with rave culture is equally murky. But the first six minutes isn't what makes ‘Insomnia’ great is it? No, it’s the last three. When Jazz closes ‘I can’t get no sleep’, the song takes off on a whirlwind of unforgiving, inexorable hedonistic bliss, and everybody, everywhere goes fucking mental.

SEE ALSO: ‘Red Alert’ – Basement Jaxx, ‘The Rockafeller Skank’ – Fatboy Slim

62. I Wish – Stevie Wonder

Stevie Wonder has the impossible gift of sounding jubilantly innocent while bearing an underlying tone of pensive world weariness. ‘I Wish’ is an example of this. Musically, it’s a breath-taking contest between Funk and Motown, the grooving rhythm guitar and animated trumpets (come the chorus) competing with the flustered organ/keyboard duet. Behind its orchestral funkadelica is an entertainingly wistful Wonder, as he reminisces about the happiest times of his life, the mischievous escapades, hectic family parties and long school days which made up his childhood, and, in an unspoken sadness, his desire to return to that kind of total, encompassing simplicity.

SEE ALSO: ‘Sir Duke’ – Stevie Wonder, ‘Superstition’ – Stevie Wonder

61. Hurt – Nine Inch Nails

‘Hurt’ isn’t subtle, refined or clever. It doesn’t define a generation or genre. It’s not anthemic, not necessarily thought-provoking, and it’s certainly not easy listening. In fact, it’s heavy-handed and laboured to the point of nauseating self-indulgence. But, it’s possibly the most vehemently cathartic song ever written. Disjointed white noise filters through while Trent Reznor’s protagonist breaks down over his drug addiction, bottomless depression and reliance on self-harm; his difficulty in finding a reason to live despite his pain. It’s insufferably abrasive. Johnny Cash’s cover somehow invests Reznor’s purging with even greater pathos.

SEE ALSO: 'The Hand That Feeds' – Nine Inch Nails, 'Closer' – Nine Inch Nails

All-Time Favourite Songs #80-71

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