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 32)

It's been quite a while since I've done one of these. I know you all missed them. Anyway, before we begin, links: Parts 1-15 archive. Parts 16-30 archive. Part 31.

Now for the next ten on the list!

311. Kiss (by Prince and the Revolution on the album Parade, 1986): I don't mind that cover with Tom Jones that came out a few years after this, but the original is the best. Prince has that great falsetto, which makes the song, which has relatively innocuous lyrics, sound really dirty. The lyrics are great, too, with Prince explaining why his woman should have more going on than her looks and wealth, yet still managing to be snarky. Add that great jangly guitar and you have a classic pop song.

312. Kisses of Fire (by ABBA on the album Voulez-Vous, 1979): Voulez-Vous is ABBA's disco album (their only one, even though a lot of people think of them as a disco band), and this song is a disco masterpiece. It begins quietly, with Agnetha singing, "Lay your head on my chest so you hear every beat of my heart" and quickly builds to a crescendo with the chorus: "Kisses of fire, burning, burning; I'm at the point of no returning," which inexplicably builds even more as the chorus continues: "I've had my share of love affairs but they were nothing compared to this; I'm riding higher than the sky and there is fire in every kiss." The music is typical disco, but Agnetha's soaring vocals, which speak of the triumph of passion, make this a joyous and almost bubbly song, and lifts it above your normal disco fare.

313. Knock Me Down (by the Red Hot Chili Peppers on the album Mother's Milk, 1989): Mother's Milk is by far the best Chili Peppers album (speak not to me of BloodSugarSexMagik!), even though I haven't bought any of their albums in the past ten years. I just don't see how any of them can top this, and this song is a big reason why. I assume it's about Anthony's and the band's heroin addiction, but it transcends that and become a universal song about needing love and never allowing yourself to be too distant for it. Flea's bass carries the song, obviously, but John's guitars early on keep it light and almost ethereal, and when Anthony gets to the chorus, we hear the pain in his voice when he sings, "If you see me getting mighty, if you see me getting high, knock me down ... I'm not bigger than life." The ending lyric is powerful, too: "It's so lonely when you don't even know yourself." The Peppers have made good music since this album, but not often.

314. Knowing Me, Knowing You (by ABBA on the album Arrival, 1976): When most people think of ABBA, they think of "Dancing Queen" or this song. I've never been a huge fan of the former (it did not make this list, for example), but this song is a powerful song of a relationship ending. Frida, who usually handles the ABBA songs with a bit more emotional heft to them, brings her somewhat husky alto to the haunting lyrics, and when she gets to the wonderful chorus, we feel as if we're breaking up ourselves. It's a beautiful yet depressing song, and both the lyrics and the heavy music sell it well.

315. LA (by Elliot Smith on the album Figure 8, 2000): It's hard to pick out Elliot Smith songs because they all sound so similar, but the ones I really like differ from the norm just enough to raise them up. This song, with its slightly suicidal theme (suicide, of course, has become more evident in Smith's songs after his own suicide), stays on course lyrically, but what pushes it to greatness is the slightly harder edge on the music, especially when Smith growls the chorus: "Last night I was about to throw it all away." There's a menace to the music that contradicts the melancholy lyrics, as if Smith wasn't going to "throw it all away" because he was going to kill himself, but because he was going to do damage to others. It's this ambiguity that makes the song great.

316. Lady Let it Lie (by Fish on the album Suits, 1994): Fish is quite good at these mini-story songs, with good lyrics and a bit of sentiment. He's at his best when he doesn't get overly sentimental, and in this song, in which he sings of a woman trying to escape a ragged childhood and an unpleasant life, strikes the perfect balance. The song's solid if unspectacular musical backing holds up Fish's strong lyrics: "It's hard putting down family roots when you're living in a mobile home, but there's always blood even in a rolling stone," he sings, and sums up the relationship with his lady thusly: "But surely there's something left, something worth fighting for ... Maybe we can start again, maybe give it one more try; or do we just walk away, maybe let it fade and die." As Fish has gotten older, he's become more desperate in his songs to make a relationship work despite the odds, and this is a very nice example of that kind of thinking.

317. Ladyfingers (by Luscious Jackson on the album Electric Honey, 1999): This is a nice, lush song with a slightly jazzy groove that lifts you up with fine, cheerful lyrics. It has a great couplet, "I'm so tired of my guns and my vanity, I'd like to trade them in for some sanity," that calls for understanding and love. It's a song that wants to believe in something more and almost achieves it. Despite a tinge of sadness, it soars above the banality of mediocrity. This is Luscious Jackson's last album, and it's a good one, thanks to great songs like this.

318. Last (by Nine Inch Nails on the album Broken, 1992): Trent's nasty little EP from 1992 has some great songs, and this one stands out. It begins with a great grinding guitar, and then Trent comes in with his typically snide tone, howling as if he's in great pain. The chorus adds a nice revving sound that complements the lyrics beautifully, and then Trent growls, "This isn't meant to last, this is for right now" to end the song. Trent is quite excellent at baring his soul, and when he shrieks, "My lips may promise but my heart is a whore," you know you're in the presence of genius.

319. Last Call (by the Popes on the album Holloway Boulevard, 2000): Holloway Boulevard isn't a great album, but it's a lot of fun in some ways. This song, a rousing call for dancing and drinking, is great because it just celebrates good times. It also, however, has a slight tinge of sadness, because it is, after all, the "last chance for a dance, last call for alcohol." Oh, the sadness of the last call!

320. The Last Day of Our Acquaintance (by Sinéad O'Connor on the album I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got, 1990): This might be O'Connor's best song. It's absolutely brilliant. We begin with a whisper, as O'Connor sings, "This is the last day of our acquaintance/I will meet you later in somebody's office/I'll talk but you won't listen to me/I know what your answer will be." We slowly gain in volume and strength, as O'Connor outlines the way the affair has gone, including the excellent line, "You used to hold my hand when the plane took off," a beautiful and telling lyric (and I always hold my wife's hand when the plane takes off!). As she loops back around to the first verse, the song suddenly explodes into powerful acoustic guitar and O'Connor's voice shifts from pain and regret to anger, and the song becomes even better. It's an astonishing song, and I love listening to it.

And there you have it. Ten more great songs, ten more ways to lose yourself in sonic goodness. Let me know what a fool I am for loving these tunes!

Great songs, according to me (Part 25)

Wow, I've reached 250 songs on this list. At this rate I should finish sometime close to when the kids go off to college. I'm sure the masses will have lynched me long before then!

However, I will forge on. As usual with a lot of what I do here, these lists are fun. Lists in general are fun! And, also as usual, here's the backlist:

Parts 1-15 archived, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, and Part 24. Now let's get to it!

241. House (by Marillion on the album marillion.com, 1999): Yes, another Marillion song (sorry, Lefty!). This song ends their very good yet dumbly-named 1999 album, and it's an unusual choice to finish, as it meanders around for long stretches and has a strange, ethereal, jazzy feel to it. According to Marillion, it's their tribute to Massive Attack, and it sounds like it (I like Massive Attack, by the way), with lazy trumpets and soft percussion throughout. The lyrics make it shine, however, with the story of a house haunted by the loss of one half of a relationship. Hogarth is in fine form, singing with trembling pain in his voice and wondering what the hell happened. It's not how I would have ended an album, but that doesn't mean it's not a great song.

242. How Soon Is Now? (by The Smiths on the album Meat Is Murder, 1985): I don't like The Smiths. I also don't like Morrissey. Sorry. It just doesn't do it for me. However, I do own their greatest hits album, largely because of this song. God, this is a cool tune. Morrissey whines a lot in his music, but here, the whining is tempered by the strong, existentialist lyrics, and it's less whining than questioning the very nature of reality and the reason why we are here. If you're going to whine, say I, whine about the important stuff! The reason I love this Smiths song over all others is Johnny Marr's haunting guitar work, which is sadly lacking from far too many Smiths songs. He's a great guitarist, but rarely does it sound like it, and in this tune, the echoing of the music complements the lyrics beautifully. So why does every other Smiths song stink? It's a mystery!

243. How Was It For You? (by James on the album Gold Mother, 1990): James' first great album contains a number of great songs, including this song. Tim Booth's lyrics are partly what make the band great, and this song is no exception. His slightly nasal tone works well on songs like this, too, as his scorn comes through well. When he sings, "You look better than the face of God on a sunny day," it sounds like a compliment, but Booth infuses it with such nastiness that we understand he is damning with faint praise. The whininess extends to the music, too, as the guitars flail in the background, inspiring Booth to even more nastiness. A fine, snarky tune.

244. Human Chain (by Christmas on the album Ultraprophets Of Thee Psykick Revolution, 1989): Christmas is a strange little band that never did much (two of its members went on to form Combustible Edison, if that helps), and this is a weird little album (check out the album cover!). I found this in a used record store in State College while I was in college, and figured with such a neat-o title, it had to be good! It's not the greatest album, but it has some good songs on it, and this is the best one. It has a nice funky beat to it (and I can dance to it!) with a choppy percussion section, and the vocals (by Liz Cox, I assume, who is quite good at wailing in this song) are strange and surreal, but still relevant - they speak of, not surprisingly, the links between people. An interesting, weird little tune by a band that never made much of a splash. Here's some more information about them, in case you're interested.

245. Hurt (by Nine Inch Nails on the album The Downward Spiral, 1994): "I ... hurt myself today ... to see if I still feel ..." Ah, Trent, you swell, angry guy. This, the best Nine Inch Nails album, ends with this depressing paean to, well, depression. It's a beautiful song, actually, despite the subject matter, and it gets under your skin and doesn't let you go. It's a great way to end the album, because it sums up what Trent has been raging about for an hour or so, and now, his rage is spent, but what's left is sad resignation. The Johnny Cash cover? Eh. Fine, but lacking the despair in Trent's voice.

246. Hymn 43 (by Jethro Tull on the album Aqualung, 1971): I don't have a lot of "classic" rock on this list, because, frankly, I don't own a lot of "classic" rock. I mean, I like the stuff from the 1960s and '70s, but I listened to classic rock stations when I was a kid and never got around to buying the albums. I went through a short phase in the late 1980s when I bought a bunch of old albums, and that's when I picked up Aqualung. Aqualung is a weird album, isn't it? There are some good songs on it, but "Hymn 43" rises above them. That scratchy guitar, that huffy flute, and those great lyrics - "If Jesus saves - well He'd better save himself from the gory glory seekers who use His name in death." Ian is in fine form on this song.

247. I Am A Man Of Constant Sorrow (by The Soggy Bottom Boys on the O Brother, Where Art Thou? Motion Picture Soundtrack, 2000): This is one of the better movie soundtracks I've heard, and this song, which is NOT sung by George Clooney into a can, is a great one. The lyrics are sad, but it's sung with such exuberance that it doesn't bring you down. He might be a man of constant sorrow and seen trouble all his days, but when you hear the song, you just have to croon along!

248. I Am One (by Smashing Pumpkins on the album Gish, 1991): If you were smart enough to buy the first Smashing Pumpkins album back in 1991 (you were, weren't you?), you would put the tape into your deck or the CD into your player and fire it up, and this song would blast you between the eyes. The rumbling bass, the keening guitar, and suddenly, there's Billy, whining "I am one as you are three, try to find a messiah in your trinity." A very cool beginning to a very cool album, and sets the stage for a fine career that, true went off the rails a bit, but was still good for a while.

249. I Am Stretched on Your Grave (by Sinéad O'Connor on the album I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got, 1990): This is a great album, and this song is one reason why. It kicks off with that somewhat cheesy drum (it fits the song, but it's still kind of cheesy) and O'Connor comes in with that dreamy voice, singing her song about weird death and her obsession with it. When she goes up to the higher registers, her voice becomes even more tremulous, and we get chills. A wonderful and creepy tune.

250. I Am the City (by ABBA on the album More ABBA Gold, 1993): This is an unreleased song from 1982 that didn't show up until this second greatest hits album, but it's a very good addition to the ABBA canon. It's a strange ABBA song in that it delves into some dark territory, which our ladies taking on the persona of the city and welcoming all their acolytes who worship the urbanity of it all. It's disturbing because it sounds like a celebratory song, but when you listen, it's clear that the people in the city are somewhat pathetic, and the city itself rules over them all. Weird but wonderful.

Ah, it's always good to get another bunch of songs out there, so you can see the twisted depths of my depravity! Comments, questions, criticism? Do your worst!