Great songs, according to me (Part 39)

Yes, it's time for another ten great songs! Man, it's been a while! And because I've finally gotten around to labeling my posts, I don't have to link to previous posts. You can just click on the label to find the previous ones. I know my eight readers will be happy about that!

381. Next Year (by Foo Fighters on the album There Is Nothing Left To Lose, 1999): Dave and the boys are surprisingly good at writing ballad-like pop songs, and this is one of them. I'd like to say it's off one of their better albums, but all FF albums are good, so it's hard to say where this one ranks. This song, however, is great, as the gentlemen do a wonderful job with soaring melodies and music that uplifts without being schmaltzy. It's a marvelously hopeful song that manages to be mature but not dull. Grohl's lyrics are nice, too: "Into the night we shine/Lighting the way we glide by/Catch me if I get too high/When I come down/I'll be coming home next year." Like a lot of Foo Fighters songs, the first time you hear this you feel like you've always known it. It's quite odd but wonderful how that happens.

382. New Jack Hustler (by Ice-T on the album O. G. Original Gangster, 1991): I'm not sure if I've ever written about this before, but a few of my college friends and I went to see New Jack City in the theater in State College when it was released. We enjoyed it, but that's not the story. This was when people were rioting during screenings of the movie, and although State College is a pleasant little college town, we didn't know what we were in for, going to see the movie. It was pretty interesting, because white people were definitely in the minority, but I didn't feel like anyone was going to beat me up because of it. It was just a weird episode in my life, because it's very rare that I find myself in the minority when it comes to skin color. I reckon that's probably true for most white people - we don't often end up someplace where most of the people aren't white. I don't know why white people wouldn't want to go see New Jack City, because it's a damned good movie. Okay, maybe not damned good, but pretty entertaining. It was also the first time I had ever heard Ice-T's music, in the form of this anthem that plays during a chase scene. Later, I heard the entire song (the movie version is truncated) and absolutely loved it. it has a great groove, which propels the song along, and Ice's lyrics, which cut to the core of why so many poverty-stricken people don't care about the system and just look to get paid, are devastatingly honest. It's certainly not an excuse for criminal behavior, but when someone from the street raps, "The end justifies the means, that's the system; I learned that in school then I dropped out," you can't help but listen. But Ice also understands the cost: "Every dollar I get, another brother drops." That makes the allure - "So many hos on my jock, think I'm a movie star/Nineteen - I got a fifty thousand dollar car" - more tragic. Ice often thinks that there's a conspiracy against black people, which borders on the silly, but otherwise, he gives us a fascinating look into what's going on in the minds of young African-Americans. That he can lay it over such a funky track makes it great.

383. New Way Home (by Foo Fighters on the album The Colour And The Shape, 1997): Hey, look! it's another Foo Fighters song! What do you know? This song ends the boys' best album (although the new one challenges it, I'll tell you that much), and like a lot of Fighters songs, it's melodic but rocking all at once and fills you with a strange kind of nostalgia. Eventually, of course, it builds into a primal scream of defiance, as Dave sings "I'm not scared" over and over, altenating it with the two lines, "I felt like this one my way home" and "I pass the boats and the Kingdome." Maybe evoking the old stadium is why we get that sense of nostalgia. I don't know - all I know is that it's a great song.

384. Nice To Know You (by Incubus on the album Morning View, 2001): I only own this one Incubus album, even though it's pretty good, but there are a few great songs. This song opens the album, and it's a weird little tune that sets the stage well for the rest. Lyrically, it's a bit odd, but musically it really shines, with a strange meandering vibe that ramps up into a heavy beat for the chorus. As a mood setter, it previews the album's swing between surfer sensibility and metal grinding. You can't help but bang your head, and then you lurch back to laid-back. It's a weird mix, but it works well.

385. Nicotine & Gravy (by Beck on the album Midnite Vultures, 1999): Beck's 1999 album is so funky and weird, and this song is one of its standouts. Beck lazily drawls through oddball lyrics like "Her left eye is lazy, she looks so Israeli," but the Seventies vibe carries it through, and it becomes a charming love song. If it's just weird, it probably wouldn't work, but as with a lot of Beck songs, the foundation is solid.

386. Nights Of Mystery (by the Georgia Satellites on the album Georgia Satellites, 1986): Krys mocks me for liking the first Georgia Satellites album, but I do. Most of it I like despite it not being all that good (the songs rock, but they're not that good), but "Nights of Mystery" is a nice country-fried rocker that begins quietly and cranks up nicely. It's a strangely sweet song, too, as we get nice lyrics like "I got this genius of a heart that shines wild and free ..." Every Georgia Satellites song has this kind of vibe to it, but this song manages to be deeper, and therefore better.

387. 1999 (by Prince and the Revolution on the album 1999, 1983): "I was dreamin' when I wrote this, forgive me if it goes astray ..." Sing along, people! Do I really need to write any more about this? Prince at perhaps his peak (although he has had a lot of peaks, but let's call this his first one), his band kicking ass, and a elegy about nuclear war. "But life is just a party and parties aren't meant to last ..." Get out your vinyl and fire it up!

388. Nitro Burning Funny Cars (by The Dead Milkmen on the album Bucky Fellini, 1987): A simple guitar hook and hilarious lyrics. That's all that's needed sometimes, and while a lot of the Dead Milkmen songs fall into this category, some are simply more hilarious than others, and those reach greatness. Like this one: "This world is full of people who think a lot about bowling balls" and "This world is full of people who look a lot like Gavin McCloud" are eerily true. What's up with that? Just a great, great song.

389. No Further Damage (by P. M. Dawn on the album Dearest Christian, I'm So Very Sorry For Bringing You Here. Love, Dad, 1998): As usual with P. M. Dawn songs, this features some beautiful lyrics about love and why it's important. It's a typically lush song, as well, and simply takes you along into that strange world that P. M. Dawn inhabits. I just don't have much else to say about it.

390. No Man's Land (by Billy Joel on the album River Of Dreams, 1993): Joel's "last" album gets off to a rollicking start with this anti-capitalism screed which stands as a companion piece to "Allentown" - where that was contemplative and sad, ten years later Joel is pissed off, and with good reason. Joel does a good job blending trenchant lyrics and throbbing music, and this song proves, for the last time, that he can rock out when he wants to. It sets the tone for the album, which is somewhat melancholy. It's not his best album, but it features some great songs, and this is one of them.

Well, that was fun. I've had this post sitting around for almost a year, and I finally got it finished. I don't know why it took me so long; that's just the way it is, I suppose. Anyway, that's ten more great songs for your iPod! You know you fill it based on my recommendations!

Great songs, according to me (Part 37)

It's been well over two months since I posted another ten songs I think are great. I know you've been waiting for the next one! I do like posting these, but things just get in the way. Before we get to the list, let's point you to the other lists:
Parts 1-15, Parts 16-30, Part 31, Part 32, Part 33, Part 34, Part 35, and Part 36.

Let's look at the next ten!

361. Monkey Wrench (by Foo Fighters on the album The Colour And The Shape, 1997): Tom loves this album, and I can't say I disagree with him, except for maybe the extent of how superb it is. This song, which should probably be paired with "Doll," the first, rather short prelude to the album, kicks so much ass I can't believe I first heard it on an episode of Beverly Hills 90210. Yes, I really did. The pounding music is straight-forward, grab-your-collar-and-shake-you rock, and Grohl's sneering lyrics make the song a perfect kiss-off to a manipulative significant other. When the song builds to Grohl's primal scream of rage, we've crossed into rock-and-roll greatness. Scream it with me: "One last thing before I quit I never wanted any more than I could fit into my head I still remember every single word you said and all the shit that somehow went along with it still there's one thing that comforts me since I was always caged but now I'm freeeeeee ..." Chills, I tell you, I get chills.

362. A Month Of Sundays (by Don Henley on the album Building The Perfect Beast, 1984): I'm not a huge Henley fan, but this is a pretty decent album, punctuated by a few great songs. "A Month of Sundays" is a sad song about farmers and how modern life sucks, something I have usually have no patience for, but Henley's smooth California drawl manages to make it work. It romanticizes the plight of the American farmer, sure, but it stays just on the non-mawkish side of sentimentality, and so it works. Henley sells it, too, as we believe he's a put-upon old farmer rather than a spoiled rich rock star. That's always helpful. This album, unfortunately, gave us "All She Wants To Do Is Dance," but it also gave us this song, so that's a nice thing.

363. More Fool Me (by Genesis on the album Selling England By The Pound, 1973): People tend to forget that Genesis with Peter Gabriel could crank out some excellent love songs, and this is one of them (although it's Phil on lead vocals). This is a quiet song with that quirky folksy style that a lot of early Genesis has, and the lyrics are extremely bittersweet: "The day you left, I think you knew you'd not be back; well at least it would seem that way because you never said goodbye." It's a sad song full of irony, as it ends with Phil singing, "Yes, I'm sure it will work out all right."

364. Mr. Integrity (by L7 on the album Bricks Are Heavy, 1992): I'm not a big fan of this album, but a few of the tracks rock, and this is one of them. The chorus, "Don't preach to me, Mr. Integrity," is simple and effective, and Donita and the gang scorch their way through a truly venomous song about posers. I rarely listen to this album anymore, but I really dig this song.

365. Mr. Self Destruct (by Nine Inch Nails on the album The Downward Spiral, 1994): Ah, Trent. Always ready with the depressing music! In this song, the first track off what is probably his masterpiece, he brings the creepiness with aplomb: "I am the sex that you provide (and I control you)/I am the hate you try to hide (and I control you)." The hypnotic repetition of the "I am ..." theme could become annoying, but Trent's reptilian vocals never allow that, and the fuzzy music ensures that we pay attention to the lyrics. Trent can often slide to easily into self-pity and self-loathing, but this song rises above that and drills right into our brain. Good stuff.

366. Muhammad My Friend (by Tori Amos on the album Boys For Pele, 1996): If you check out the lyrics to this song, they're somewhat strange. I'm not sure why I think it's so great. The music is strong, as Tori shifts from a quiet ballad to an approximation of a volcano erupting (with her piano, which is quite a feat). I love the "chorus": "Muhammad my friend, it's time to tell the world; we both know it was a girl, back in Bethlehem." The lyrics get weird after that, and I'm not sure I understand them, but it seems like Tori is wondering why we crave religion when nature is so religious in the first place. I don't know who Muhammad is, though. Oh, my brain hurts. I don't know, I just love this song. So sue me.

367. The Musical Box (by Genesis on the album Nursery Cryme, 1971): Man, I love this song. It runs over ten minutes, but it's so tight musically that it seems to fly by. As it's early 1970s Genesis, it has a weird, almost jazzy psychedelic buzz to it, but you can hear the boys beginning to move past that 1960s crap (really, did we need another psychedelic band?) and into the sprawling epics that they are known for. This is a riff on an old Victorian story which is rather creepy, telling of a boy who ages rapidly and can't express his love/lust for the girl who killed him. Yes, it's weird. I just love the way Gabriel uses his voice as an extra instrument, creating moods of sadness, weariness, lust, and finally desperation. The songs ends wonderfully in a frenzy of desire: "Why don't you touch me, touch me, touch me, touch me now, now, now, now ..." It's astonishing to listen to.

368. Musicology (by Prince on the album Musicology, 2004): One of the more recent songs on this list (and yes, I need to add more, because it's been over three years since I made this list, and I've gotten some new music since then that would qualify, but for now, pretend it's 2005!), this song and album marked a return to form a bit for Prince after his bizarre Jehovah's Witness jazz fusion album, The Rainbow Children (man, that's a weird platter). I'm not one of those people who thinks that Prince dropped off the face of the earth after Batman in 1989 and then resurfaced in 2004, and this album is no better than, say, Rave Un2 the Joy Fantastic, but this song gets things off to a rousing start. The lyrics are inconsequential, because as with much of Prince, it's all about the groove, and he does a great job with that. Ostensibly, this is a paean to old-school jams, but it's just an excuse for Prince to get you moving. And, like Norah says, you must "Shake your booty" when Prince fires up this song. Good stuff from the master.¹

369. Muzzle (by Smashing Pumpkins on the album Mellon Collie And The Infinite Sadness, 1995): Billy Corgan often whines a lot, but here, it helps him. The lyrics of this song are powerful and speak of loss and a sense of disconnect from the world around you, and too often that's just annoying. It could be with Corgan, as well, but somehow his whiny tones become deeper, helped by the richness of the music, which builds steadily throughout the song. When Corgan gets to the payoff at the end, he's earned it, because he's come back around: "And the world, so hard to understand, is the world you can't live without." And the thudding bass and drums take us out.

370. My Country (by Midnight Oil on the album Earth And Sun And Moon, 1993): The finest Midnight Oil album contains many excellent songs, and this is one of them. It launches with a piano/guitar intro that drives us into Garrett's lyrics, which speak of blind patriotism and the foolishness that comes along with it. It's interesting to consider that Garrett loves Australia without thinking there are no warts to its history. This song encapsulates that, to a degree, and all he asks for is the truth. It's a powerful song on a great album.

Well, that's another ten songs in the books. I will try not to wait almost three months for the next ten. (Yes, I'm aware that most people don't miss these posts, but I like them!)

¹ Norah actually says this. Krys taught it to her. Now Mia has picked it up. See what my wife is doing to the kids? She's turning them into booty-shaking weirdos. Sigh.

Great songs, according to me (Part 24)

Man, I went the entire month of August without doing one of these lists. How did you survive? As usual, here's the archive:

Parts 1-15 archived.
Part 16.
Part 17.
Part 18.
Part 19.
Part 20.
Part 21.
Part 22.
Part 23.

Okay, let's get to the next ten! I know you can't wait!

231. Hell's Ditch (by The Pogues on the album Hell's Ditch, 1990): Any song that includes the line "If it ain't a fist it isn't love" has to be great, right? "Hell's Ditch" is a great song beyond that, however, as Shane MacGowan growls his way through a nice misanthropic tune that builds and builds to that excellent line and the final, hate-filled sputter, "Naked howling freedom - Hell's Ditch." Ah, fine, fine stuff.

232. Helpless (by Faith No More on the album Album Of The Year, 1997): The last Faith No More album isn't the greatest thing in the world, but it's a solid bunch of songs, with a few that rise above. "Helpless" is a tragic, quiet song that builds to a painfully beautiful refrain - "You found a way to make me say, help me please someone." On the later Faith No More albums, Mike Patton really brought a disturbing drawl to the slower songs, and this helps make his lyric "I never felt better now" even more ironic. It's kind of a creepy song, but it gets under your skin and grows inside you, like all great songs.

233. Hey, Hey Helen (by ABBA on the album ABBA, 1975): I may have an inordinate love for ABBA, and that's fine, but I don't love every ABBA song, only most of them. And "Hey, Hey Helen," although a minor tune in the pantheon of greatness that is ABBA, is still fine enough to rank as a great one. Why? Well, it's about a woman who has left her husband and is striking out on her own, and is uncertain about her future. It's a quick song that sounds a lot breezier than it is, but even though it's charming, it's still serious. And that's what makes it great.

234. Hey Hey What Can I Do (by Led Zeppelin on the Led Zeppelin box set, 1990): Roger always picks on me when I include a Zep song, because he's always pointing out from whom they ripped it off. Well, here's another one, Roger! This song always pissed me off, because it's so freakin' good but it's not on any album - it's a B side. Stupid Zeppers! What a cool song this is. Nice guitar, fun Plant lyrics about an unfaithful woman (in the Zep Universe, is there really any other kind?), and a lazy kind of drawl that makes the whole thing work. Of course, because it's a Zep song, we get that nice caterwauling at the end, and voila! a great song. The 1990 box set is a billion times better simply because this song is on it.

235. Hey, Johnny Park! (by Foo Fighters on the album The Colour And The Shape, 1997): Tom thinks this is the greatest album of the past decade, and although I can't go that far, this is FF's best, and this song is one reason. It's short but powerful, and Dave's screaming, especially at the end, is sublime. But it's very neat how melodic the relatively quiet parts of the song are - the Foo are very good at harmonizing, rather surprisingly. And when the boys cut loose, as they do, it's great. This song is part of the first seven songs on the album, which are seven brilliant tunes. It's rare to get such greatness in such a nice row.

236. Hey Ladies (by the Beastie Boys on the album Paul's Boutique, 1989): It's difficult selecting one song from Paul's Boutique, which is one of the best hip hop albums ever (and will appear on my upcoming Top Ten Favorite Albums List, coming soon!), but "Hey Ladies" shows up because it can actually be separated from the rest of the album and it's got the freakin' cowbell! As usual with this brilliant album, the lyrics rule: our Jewish Buddhists reference the all-time home run leader, Chuck Woolery, Gabe Kaplan, Scott Baio, Van Gogh, and they fit that brilliant sample from "Ballroom Blitz" in at the end. Holy crap, what a fun tune. COWBELLS!!!!

237. Her Father Didn't Like Me Anyway (by Shane McGowan and the Popes on the album The Snake, 1995): The wonderfully toothless drunk Shane MacGowan has a second song on this list of ten, after he left the Pogues and went off on his own. It's a simple song which is perfectly described by the title - and to tell you the truth, if my daughter was dating MacGowan, he'd sing this song about me. Shane gives it his full Irish conviction, and spits out the last line "Her father was a right cunt anyway" with such glorious vitriol that you just have to smile, even though I don't like that word. Fun stuff.

238. Hoof (by Mary's Danish on the album Circa, 1991): I love bands that are so old and obscure that they don't even have a web site. Mary's Danish is such a band, but I still love them. This song is wonderful, and the kind of song I absolutely love, in that it starts small and slowly builds. It's a nice enough song, but it has a killer short guitar solo that infuses it with just enough majesty to raise the song up from its grimy country roots (and that's not an insult, by the way). Julie and/or Gretchen (I never know who's singing) bring that great twang tinged with a hint of sadness, and it's superb. I miss Mary's Danish.

239. Hope Alone (by the Indigo Girls on the album Become You, 2002): Yes, it's another typically haunting Indigo Girls song, but I don't care - even if many of them sound the same, they always come up with a different way to make great music. This song has such a beautiful chorus ("You were looking for your distance, and sensing my resistance, you had to do your will/I had to learn the hard way, we were just an empty dream too big for hope alone to fill") and Emily sings it with such power even through the sadness that it just takes you along. She's very good at this kind of thing, and it makes you recall any sad moment in any relationship you've had, but in a good way.

240. The Hounds of Winter (by Sting on the album Mercury Falling, 1996): I'm not the biggest Sting fan, but Krys likes him, so I get to hear some of his music, and this song, the first off his 1996 album, is a beautiful piece of work. Sting's wonderful baritone is strong and contemplative, as it is on his best songs, and the lyrics speak of the remembrance of lost love among despair, always a good theme in a tune. When we reach the end and Sting sings, urgently, "It's easy to remember, remember my love that way" and then finishes with "the hounds of winter, they harry me down" and we slowly fade out, it's sad but still powerful, and the song lingers throughout the album and makes it, frankly, better than it actually is. Now that's the mark of a great song!

As we wrap up another ten songs and move ever so slowly toward our ultimate goal, I'd dare you to denigrate my musical taste, but for two things: you can't because it's so awesome, and nobody reads this anyway! I can expound on great songs according to me with impunity! Bwah-ha-ha-ha!