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

All Time Favourite Songs #90-81

(See start of list for rules I've set myself. Pretentious? Yes. Yes it is.)

90. U.N.I.T.Y. – Queen Latifah

Queen Latifah expands upon Aretha Franklin’s Black Power classic ‘Think’, only this time with a merciless censure of gender politics. An impertinent saxophone line signifies the calm before the storm, then Latifah crashes her way into the track bitterly spitting ‘WHO YOU CALLIN’ A BITCH?’ She references instances of street harassment and domestic abuse, sputtering her livid, and at times even exposed, verses before spelling out the inequality in the hook. ‘U.N.I.T.Y.’ is a violent denouncement of Dre and Ice Cube’s indifferent use of ‘bitch’ and ‘hoe’, and a rallying call for women to stand up and respect themselves.

SEE ALSO: ‘Doo Wop (That Thing)’ – Lauryn Hill, ‘Killing Me Softly With His Song’ – The Fugees

89. Get Ready – The Temptations

An energetic brass, piano and strings threesome establishes this statement of (romantic) intent. There’s an initial tension in the verses, Eddie Kendrick’s assertive falsetto wailing over one of the 60s most stomping backing instrumentals. During the chorus this gives way to a sweeping, philanthropic enthusiasm, a simple, joyful yippee (for lack of a better word). It’s wonderful, a playful warning of competitive wooing, ‘I’m gonna try to make you love me too/so get ready, get ready.’ This track symbolises Motown’s appeal to me; when most 60s Americans suffered through socio-political revolution and national paranoia, they chose fun instead.

SEE ALSO: ‘My Girl' – The Temptations, ‘Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow' – The Shirelles

88. Spooky – Dusty Springfield

The sexiest song ever written. Although originally by Classics IV, ‘Spooky’ is all Dusty’s. Her gorgeously seductive vocals waver mystifyingly while reciting a tale of neo-noir, and a lightly smiling percussion induce the smoke-drenched, dimly lit atmosphere. Dusty elucidates the excitement of meeting the handsome, rebellious, mysterious stranger; the one who asks ‘to go see a movie’, with nothing more than a charming hello. She thrills in the spontaneous breaking of dating conventions, the shameless breach of conservative protocol. It’s just so naturally cool. You feel like you’re wearing a collar-up leather jacket just by listening to it.

SEE ALSO: ‘Look Of Love' – Dusty Springfield, ‘Son Of A Preacher Man' – Dusty Springfield

87. Archangel – Burial

Burial (William Bevan) is the David Lynch of Dubstep, the Franz Kafka of Electronica, the Harold Pinter of Ambience. It’s progressive house found in the farthest reaches of the galaxy-spanning genre, the most striking arrangement of obscure, absurd sounds you’ll ever hear. ‘Archangel’ is his most perfect song, as cavernous, rhythmically off-centre drums smash against each other across a chorus of angelic… somethings. ‘Archangel’ is a tribute to Bevan’s dead dog, and the persistent key changes delicately accentuate his fraught, impenetrable loneliness and pain, ‘holding you/couldn’t be alone.’ ‘Archangel’ was allegedly written and produced in twenty minutes.

SEE ALSO: ‘Street Halo’ – Burial, ‘Endorphin’ - Burial

86. Long Live The Queen – Frank Turner

‘Long Live The Queen’ is unbearably heart-breaking to listen to, so how must have Turner felt writing it? The bright introductory riff is at odds with this elegiac lament, stressing the suddenness of Turner’s shock: ‘I was sipping on some whisky when I got the call/yeah my friend Lex was lying in hospital.’ It’s the perfect eulogy; it describes succinctly the emptiness you feel swallowing every fibre of your being when you lose someone you love, the pervading bubble of hopelessness that lingers, but also the pride you feel in commemorating them: ‘sing with all your heart/the queen is dead.’

SEE ALSO: ‘I Miss You Beau Velasco’ – The Death Set, ‘The Funeral’ – Band of Horses

85. Rid Of Me – PJ Harvey

‘Rid Of Me’ is one of the best anti-love songs of all-time, a disconcerting back-and-forth between an impossibly quiet, difficult introspection and a scarily plausible, violent confrontation. The switch is dynamic, representing the bipolar passive-aggression of the obsessive, psychotic protagonist. Harvey doesn’t explode until two minutes in, a menacingly reserved riff initially her only corroborator, before her damning refrain antagonises everyone in its path; ‘don’t you wish you never, never met her,’ which implies a multiple personality disorder among everything else. A Freudian goldmine, and a frightfully intense voyage through the fanatical psychology of a sadistic nutjob.

SEE ALSO: ‘On Battleship Hill’ – PJ Harvey, ‘Fuck And Run’ – Liz Phair

84. Pictures of You – The Cure

The highlight of The Cure’s best album, Disintegration, isn’t the vividly whimsical lyrics or the pretty, impeccably structured compositions, but how its introductions paint the band’s sonic dreamscapes before Robert Smith even utters an inescapably forlorn syllable. ‘Pictures Of You’ is as close to a (dark) fairytale as music can get, Smith’s achingly touching longing and regret, ‘I've been looking so long at these pictures of you/that I almost believe that they're real,’ (lovely line by the way) aided by the twang of Smith’s distorted guitar and Gallop’s looming, pervasive bass. A song to lose and find yourself in.

SEE ALSO: ‘Disintegration’ – The Cure, ‘Lullaby’ – The Cure

83. The Predatory Wasp Of The Palisades Is Out To Get Us! – Sufjan Stevens

Sufjan Stevens should really be a lot higher on this list. Stevens’ music is magnificently unpretentious; it peels back and reveals what we are, not instructs us on what we should be. It’s a celebration of humanity and all our faults; there’s isn’t a cynical note in his entire back catalogue. On ‘Predatory Wasp,’ an extraneous anecdote about an imaginary mutant wasp chasing his eight year-old self, he employs trumpets, clarinets and an entire backing chorus to support his gentle guitar in its illustration of his narrative; the result is a stunning homage to the gloriously incomprehensible vastness of the child’s imagination.

SEE ALSO: ‘Casimir Pulaski Day’ – Sufjan Stevens, ‘To Be Alone With You’ – Sufjan Stevens

82. Takeover – Jay Z

Jay Z’s diss track to Nas is the definitive burn. He lists almost every East Coast rapper (except for Nas) working the early Noughties as ‘running this rap shit’, demeans Nas’ commercial success ‘I sold what your album sold in my first week,’ and slates his consistency by claiming Illmatic to be his only good album. This is hip-hop decimation. With the help of a young Kanye West, the production matches the irreverent verses; bass guitars, keyboards, but it’s instrumentally minimalist. The samples, particularly ‘Sound Of Da Police’, are textbook; clever, funny and a weighty symbol of Jay’s overwhelming confidence.

SEE ALSO: ‘99 Problems’ – Jay Z, ‘Crazy In Love’ – Beyonce (featuring Jay Z)

81. Maps – The Yeah Yeah Yeahs

The final track on Fever To Tell dismisses the indie-rock/post-punk fusion which came before it. ‘Maps’ is pure ballad, a tender, profoundly moving plea for a lover to stay. Even the tribal drums hold a warm sensitivity to them. Karen O’s voice reaches invisible levels of intimacy, the cocksure bite of the past half-an-hour dissipates in an instant of repressed vulnerability: the ‘wait’ is the key here, a small murmur of unabashed, unsentimental desperation that tears you in two. The climactic bridge doesn’t feel inappropriate; if anything it’s understated, as the most ferocious apex couldn’t do Karen O’s pain justice.

SEE ALSO: ‘Y Control’ – The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, ‘Laura’ – Bat For Lashes

All-Time 100 Favourite Songs 100-91

A far more comprehensive and ordered list than my previous tame, uninspired effort. In order to make as strong and diverse a list as possible, I’ve set myself some rules for its composition. Firstly, I’m only allowed one song per artist (although I’ve used a ‘SEE ALSO’ section to highlight other great songs, from either the same artist, or ones similar in genre or theme). Secondly, to ensure variety over the course of the list, I’ve split the 100 into ten groups of ten. For each ten, I’ve assigned the number of places according to genre; my favourite genre, Rock, receives three places per ten. My next favourite genres, Hip Hop and Indie/Folk, are assigned two each per ten, while Modern Pop and Motown each receive one per ten. Old Pop and Dance are each assigned one per twenty, but cannot be in the same ten as the other. Therefore, I’d choose my 30 favourite rock songs, 20 favourite hip hop and indie/folk songs, 10 favourite modern pop and motown songs, and 5 favourite old pop and dance songs. Thirdly, I’ve set myself a limit of 100 words per song, except for number one which is allowed 150. Lastly, just to clarify, while the placement of a song on my list is a reasonably decent barometer of my opinion of that artist, there are a few anomalies, for example Crystal Castles, The Flaming Lips, Built To Spill and The Rolling Stones would be far higher on a 100 Artists list, while Fugazi, Guided By Voices, The Libertines, Nick Drake, Interpol, Dean Martin, Simon And Garfunkel, Wire, The Strokes, Tame Impala, Prince, The Postal Service, Depeche Mode and, of course, Frank Sinatra would actually be on it. They are some of my favourite artists, but they lacked an exceptional stand-out track. There are also the inevitable one-hit wonders, although these are supplemented by fantastic songs of the same genre. Now that I’ve explained my self-indulgent pretensions, enjoy!

One quick piece of trivia: Before I decided upon my ‘one song per artist’ rule, I drafted an initial list. It contained 14 Radiohead songs. Four from Ok Computer, three from Kid A, three from In Rainbows, two from The Bends, one from Amnesiac and one from Hail To The Thief; ‘Paranoid Android’, ‘Let Down’, ‘Climbing Up The Walls’, ‘No Surprises’, ‘The National Anthem’, ‘Idioteque’, ‘Motion Picture Soundtrack’, ‘All I Need’, ‘Reckoner’, ‘Videotape’, ‘Talk Show Host’, ‘Fake Plastic Trees’, ‘Pyramid Song’ and ‘There, There’.

Honourable Mentions:

ROCK: Today – The Smashing Pumpkins, Pork And Beans - Weezer, Admit It! – Say Anything

INDIE/FOLK: Suzanne – Leonard Cohen, Poke – Frightened Rabbit

HIP HOP: They Reminisce Over You – Pete Rock And CL Smooth, Yonkers – Tyler, The Creator

MOTOWN: I Want You Back – Jackson 5

MODERN POP: Sexy Boy - Air

OLD POP: Walk Away Renee – The Left Banke

DANCE: We Are Your Friends – Justice And Simian

100. Young Hearts Spark Fire – Japandroids

Written before Japandroids soared to critical darlingdom and commercial success, ‘Young Hearts Spark Fire’ is a celebration of carefree hedonism and a morose acknowledgement of mortality. Believing the opportunity to fulfil his dream of breaking into the post-punk scene had passed, Brian King had reached a stalemate in his life. Directionless, he expressed his disillusionment in the only way he knew how; songwriting. The result is double-edged; blissfully loud pop-punk on the joys of getting wankered, ‘beat up[…] but too drunk to feel it,’ but also unreservedly, powerfully morbid, ‘we used to dream/now we worry about dying’.

SEE ALSO: ‘The House That Heaven Built’ – Japandroids, ‘To Hell With Good Intentions’ – McLusky

99. Hey Boy, Hey Girl – The Chemical Brothers

It starts with two samples: the creepily enticing vocal from Rock Master Scott and the relentless synth from Joeski Love. Then, seconds later, the bassline resonates in the distance, approaching, and growing. When it arrives, it’s not with a bang, but a bow. The bass-drop is so ceaselessly satisfying because it’s more of an elegant bass-slide than a drop. It just clicks. The synths, drums, vocals, bassline. All of it. The Chemical Brothers are one of the most consistent dance groups because they understand the importance of a seamless sample arrangement. ‘Hey Boy, Hey Girl’ is their masterpiece.

SEE ALSO: ‘Midnight Madness’ – The Chemical Brothers, ‘Star Guitar’ – The Chemical Brothers

98. Myth – Beach House

Beach House don’t use the synth to excite, but to caress. ‘Myth’ is the finest track off the outstanding Bloom and the best representation of Beach House’s maturation as the quintessential dream-pop band. They’re often criticised for being too over-produced, squeakily clean and therefore empty; a polished shell. However, BH’s abstract, textured sound is opulent with striking imagery in itself, transiently evoking sunrises, sunsets, moments of happiness, moments of loss. In ‘Myth’, Legrand capsises lyrically from her introverted dispassion into the role of authoritative counsellor, ‘You can't keep hangin' on/to all that's dead and gone’.

SEE ALSO: ‘Zebra’ – Beach House, ‘My Girls’ – Animal Collective

97. White Winter Hymnal – Fleet Foxes

‘White Winter Hymnal’ is a song which simultaneously diverges and converges; it diverges out into effervescent synchronised harmonies, while converging on the same perversely pretty image at the verse’s close; ‘And Micheal you would fall/and turn the white snow/red as strawberries in the summertime’. The verse is repeated three times: as percussion is introduced, guitars are strummed with greater ferocity and vocals become fervent, the same lines become more and more horrifying, yet spellbinding. The light folksy melody is circumstantial to a tale of a brutal animal attack. An aesthetically glorious contradiction.

SEE ALSO: ‘Helplessness Blues’ – Fleet Foxes, ‘Upward Over The Mountain’ – Iron And Wine

96. Feeling Yourself Disintegrate – The Flaming Lips

Like the best Flaming Lips songs, ‘Feeling Yourself Disintegrate’ combines the innate catchiness of Bowie-lite pop-rock and the atmospheric, trippy otherworldliness of The Velvet Underground’s psychedelic rock while addressing themes of galactic significance. In its multi-layered build-up Coyne articulates the ultimate problem, that life should be dedicated to love (not purely romantic love), but that it’s too short to properly commit and that death’s omnipresence inevitably dictates everything. In a crash of guitars, strings and drums, Coyne concludes that death and living are forever interlinked, that to love, you must live, and in living, death’s footsteps echo closely behind.

SEE ALSO: ‘Do You Realize??’ – The Flaming Lips, ‘Race For The Prize’ – The Flaming Lips

95. Backstreet Freestyle – Kendrick Lamar

In the first three lines he compares himself to MLK Jr. before recalling a prayer for his ‘dick to get as big as the Eiffel tower/so [he] can fuck the world for 72 hours’. Public Enemy this is not. ‘Backstreet Freestyle’ is a bold self-endorsement, a tongue-in-cheek proclamation of charismatic arrogance. Lamar is one of, if not the, best rappers around, and he thoroughly enjoys rubbing it in. The production is excellent, an irretrievably deep bassline operating the flippant hook which in turn breaks up the exhausting verses. It’ll be iconised by the third verse’s repeated howl of ‘BIATCH’.

SEE ALSO: ‘Bitch Don’t Kill My Vibe’ – Kendrick Lamar, ‘R.A.P. Music’ – Killer Mike

94. Holocene – Bon Iver

Before their self-titled LP was released in 2011 Bon Iver had been a band whose music I enjoyed without truly, irrefutably loving it. They had pleasant melodies, touching lyrics and a unique voice in Justin Vernon, but seemed destined for Sun Kil-Moon level general agreeability rather than the universal adoration, acclaim and obsession of a Smog or Belle And Sebastian. Bon Iver and ‘Holocene’ changed that, demonstrating a thematically ambitious Vernon and an evidently refined (perfected?) folk songwriting ability. There’s an ambivalent beauty in the soothing guitars, distant claps and out-of-time clarinets accompanying Vernon’s ambiguous, haunting lyrics.

SEE ALSO: ‘Perth’ – Bon Iver, ‘The Snow Leopard’ – Shearwater

93. What Becomes Of The Broken Hearted – Jimmy Ruffin

One of Motown’s saddest songs, showcasing the darkness that comes as a side effect of the idyllic romance so jubilantly described by Ruffin’s contemporaries. The steady two-three bass-drum mimics the beat of Ruffin’s particular broken heart, and you can imagine him treading the pavement of an indefinite city seeing the tragedy in every interaction as he sings. The bashed piano and impassioned backing vocals stress that this is not a rhetorical question, but a helpless yearning; he’s desperate to find something, that ‘piece of mind’ which he can use as a launch pad to finally begin the recovery process.

SEE ALSO: ‘Standing In The Shadows Of Love’ – The Four Tops, ‘Behind A Painted Smile’ – The Usley Brothers

92. Common People – Pulp

Cocker’s sneering (eventually vindictive) assault on class tourism is just as relevant today as it was twenty years ago, and just as riotously epic. It’s the song everyone knows the words too, the perfect Indie Rock anthem, and as it builds up to its inescapably ballistic climax it’s infectiously dancey. But it’s often forgotten just how angry ‘Common People’ is, with Cocker gradually escalating from a condescending whisper to a furious cry of disaffection; ‘You will never understand/how it feels to live your life/with no meaning or control.’ Its transformation from satire to direct political condemnation is terrifyingly effective.

SEE ALSO: ‘Running The World’ – Jarvis Cocker, ‘Paint The Silence’ – South

91. The Next Episode – Dr Dre And Snoop Dogg

The continuation of ‘Nuthin But A G Thing’ indicated Dre’s return to the mainstream, and what a return it was. ‘The Next Episode’ succeeds because of, not in spite of, a paradox: Dre’s harsh verse and the pounding drums shouldn’t work alongside the effortlessly casual synth line and Snoop Dogg’s nonchalant moan. The strings sample, used to introduce the track and separate the verses, sets the chilled tone impeccably and complements the simple concept of friends getting together to make music, as Dre raps ‘Dre and Snoop chronic'ed out in the 'llac/with Doc in the back, sippin' on 'gnac.’

SEE ALSO: ‘Still Dre’ – Dr Dre And Snoop Dogg, ‘Nuthin But A G Thing’ – Dr Dre And Snoop Dogg