Great songs, according to me (Part 36)

Hey, it's another installment of the never-ending list of songs I think are great! By the time I'm finished with my original list, I'll have to make a new list just as long to reflect the music I've gotten since then! So it will, indeed, never end!

In case you're interested, I have written other installments, as you might guess. Here is the archive for Parts 1-15, here is the archive for Parts 16-30, and here is Part 31, Part 32, Part 33, Part 34, and Part 35. But let's look to the future!

351. Mean Street (by Van Halen on the album Fair Warning, 1981): The opening song on Van Halen's fourth (and wildly underrated) album signals that this album is different and slightly darker than the first three, which featured bright, shiny, party metal. This time, Eddie's groove is much rougher and fuzzier, and Dave's growl is definitely far more menacing than usual. The lyrics reflect this: "At night I walk this stinkin' street past the crazies on my block and I see the same old faces and I hear the same old talk." It gets darker from there, until Roth snarls "See, a gun is real easy in this desperate part of town, turns you from hunted into hunter, gonna hunt somebody down" as Eddie's guitar starts to fade into the distance. It's a short blast of anger from a band that had rarely shown it, even in their darker songs, and would not show very often in the future.

352. Meaningless (by Magnetic Fields on the album 69 Love Songs (vol. 3), 1999): Like most of the songs on this excellent album, this is a quick one, but also as usual, the strength of it lies in Stephen Merritt's fun lyrics, which propel the song along. Many of the lyrics on the album are much darker than the tone of the song implies, as in this one, when Merritt sings, "And if some dim bulb should say we were in love in some way, kick all his teeth in for me and if you feel like keeping on kicking, feel free" and it sounds absolutely delightful.

353. Memories Can't Wait (by Living Colour on the album Vivid, 1988): This is a strange song, but that doesn't make it any less great. It starts off with a strong grungy vibe, angry lyrics, pounding through the song, and then suddenly switches to a quiet, even reflective sound, with Cory Glover musing about his memories. It's an odd shift, but it works in the song, and then the band slowly builds again to a powerful finish. It's an excellent song on an excellent album.

354. MidLife Crisis (by Faith No More on the album Angel Dust, 1992): Man, I love this album and this song. Faith No More's follow-up to their breakout album The Real Thing didn't continue their rise, but it's a better collection. On this song, Mike Patton growls "Go on and wring my neck like when a rag gets wet" to start, and it only gets better. The chorus is fantastic: "You're perfect, yes, it's true, but without me you're only you. Your menstruating heart isn't bleeding enough for two." The music is less heavy than many of FNM's songs, but it's somewhat haunting, grinding away and propping up Patton's anger. It's too bad Faith No More never made it bigger.

355. Milk & Honey (by Beck on the album Midnite Vultures, 1999): I've said before how much I love Beck's disco album, and this is one reason. It begins with a kind of heavy rock groove, but switches quickly to a space-age disco beat, with corny keyboards that nevertheless fit beautifully in the framework of what Beck is doing. As is fairly typical with Beck, especially on this album, the lyrics are almost incomprehensible (at least to a layperson like me), but they have a twisted sense of fun about them, and at the end, when the music becomes more driving, they even have a bit of poignancy to them. It's a wild song, and a perfect example of Beck's versatility.

356. Mind Over Matter (by Ice-T on the album O. G. Original Gangster, 1991): Whenever I listen to this album, I rap along with every single lyric, which makes it the only time I ever use the "n" word (I hope Roger forgives me for it). I love this album, but only a few songs are really great, and this is one of them. It's simply a song about T telling us how great he is, but he does it with such flair and lyrical fun, plus he gets slow and funky on the song, that we can't help but forgive his arrogance. He does, however, talk about improving his mind (hence the title) and how he's making himself smarter than anyone else on the streets. "My brain's a hand grenade - catch" he raps, then follows with "I'm a hit you with an overload of bottomless thought, reversin' all the shit you're taught." Considering Ice-T's subsequent career, maybe he did know something we all didn't.

357. Miss America (by Styx on the album The Grand Illusion, 1977): I'm not sure if you're a true American if you don't like Styx, but we'll discuss that another day. "Miss America" is a lesser-known great song from this, their triumphant masterpiece, but Dennis DeYoung really sells it with his nasty lyrics about a woman who believes looks are everything, but realizes they aren't. I love the line "In your cage at the human zoo, they all stop to look at you." It starts the second side of the vinyl album (you all own it, right?) very strongly.

358. Mofo (by U2 on the album Pop, 1997): Many people, apparently, don't like this album, but it's a very good disc, highlighted by this song, which has a cool techno groove and deeper lyrics than you would expect. Bono gives the lyrics some emotion, too, and we feel his pain when he sings, "Mother, am I still your son?" Meanwhile, the boys give us an ethereal vibe when the song slows down before ratcheting up again. I wish U2 had kept pushing the musical envelope, but on the next album, they went "back to their roots," meaning they tried to recapture the cash cow music that had made them global superstars. Oh well. This album isn't great, but it's far more interesting than their last two releases.

359. Moment of Forgiveness (by Indigo Girls on the album Become You, 2002): Like most Indigo Girls songs, the strength of this tune lies in its lyrics (not to bash the music, which is always pleasant, but it's not like it's revolutionary or anything). Amy's powerful voice takes over as she sings about trying to reconnect with a lover in a moment of weakness. There's no hope to rekindle the romance, but that doesn't stop Amy from trying. It's a common theme in popular music, of course, but as usual, the way it's sung and the lyrics used make it much sadder than you would think. It's why we cling to hope when it's all gone.

360. Monday A.M. First Thing (by Think Tree on the album Like the Idea, 1992): The first song on Think Tree's masterpiece (and final record) is a blast of odd techno-rockabilly-punk backing some of the most innovative and twisted lyrics you could ever hope to find. Think Tree, as I've mentioned here before when they've shown up, was a bit too avant-garde for the early, pre-Nirvana 1990s, and that's a shame, because this album is brilliant, and this song sets the tone. Here's just one excellent verse, to give you an idea of Peter Moore's lyrical genius: "Monday A.M. First Thing/And in walked an old crow named Poe/Who smelled like a library book I'd checked out/Some twenty-odd years ago/His dark gray parka sat on him/Like the shell of a crustacean/He had flowers to bring to his wife, Lenore/Back home at the bus station/Then his eyes lit up, he screamed, "My God!"/And dropped the bottle he was nursing,/And said, I was fired from that chair/You're sitting in, four years ago on a/Monday A.M. First Thing!" And that's one of six wild verses in the song. This is a wonderful song to begin this wacky album, and it's a shame that Think Tree disappeared not long afterward. If anyone is interested in this album, let me know and I'll burn you a copy, as it's long out of print. That's how much I dig it!

That's another ten songs in the bank. Will I ever finish my list? Only the blogging gods know for sure!

Great songs, according to me (Part 20)

Despite the fact that some people like Chance have bad things to say about my taste in music (a failing for which he'll pay when I'm dictator, just you see if he won't!), I'm going to keep enlightening you. So let's git it on!

First, the history: An archive of parts 1-15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, and Part 19. Okay, now let's git it on!


191. Follow You Follow Me (by Genesis on the album ... And Then There Were Three, 1978): This song ends the album, and it's a departure for Genesis in that it's a straight forward love song, and a great one at that. Phil's vocals mesh well with the strange ethereal music of Banks and Rutherford, and it's all very hopeful about love in a world that doesn't always appreciate it. It's really the first song in the assault on the pop charts that Genesis would make in the 1980s, and when you listen to some of that junk, you wonder why they didn't keep writing songs in this vein, because it's poppy but still deep. Kind of a shame.

192. The Fonz (by Smash Mouth on the album Fush Yu Mang, 1997): My sister-in-law (who still hasn't responded to my special post addressed to her) bought this album for me, and while it's certainly not a great album, it's relatively fun, and it has a few great tunes on it - this being one of them. It's a fun song about how the singer can never get people to appreciate him, because he's a loser and a guy he knows is, well, the Fonz. Goofy, yes, but just poignant enough to elevate it to greatness.

193. Foolin' (by Def Leppard on the album Pyromania, 1983): I have mentioned before that Operation: Mindcrime is the best metal album of the 1980s, but this might be second. This song is typical of the album - eerie, haunting, hard, fun pretentious metal lyrics, and crunching guitars. Def Leppard is often a misogynistic band, true, but when they're on, they're excellent. Come on, sing along: "Is anybody out there? Anybody there? Does anybody wonder? Anybody care?"

194. Fooling Yourself (The Angry Young Man) (by Styx on the album The Grand Illusion, 1977): Remarkably, this is the first time Styx has appeared on this countdown, but that's the way alphabetizing works! It's remarkable because I really like Styx (something I share with Adam Sandler, apparently, which makes me sad). This song is on their masterpiece, The Grand Illusion, and it has those great late-1970s keyboards and that great musical interlude in the middle, and Tommy Shaw is singing about portentous stuff about not allowing yourself to lose your ambition in this cold, bitter world. Another song you know by heart - you know you do!

195. For My Lover(by Tracy Chapman on the album Tracy Chapman, 1988): Tracy Chapman kind of fell off the map after this album, didn't she? I know she still makes music, but she never really achieved that commercial success everyone thought she would. Which is a shame, because she's very good, and this, her debut album, is excellent, with several good songs. "For My Lover" is such a nastily evil song that it just gets under your skin and digs in. It's a deceptively simple song (the great ones often are) about the price of love and how people just don't understand what others do for it. And it has that great line: "They dope me up and I tell 'em lies for my lover, for my lover." You tell 'em, Tracy!

196. Forgotten Years (by Midnight Oil on the album Blue Sky Mining, 1987): Another Midnight Oil entrant on this list, and although Peter is singing about something that remains a mystery to me (anyone know?), I still think this is a great song. I know he's singing about Australia, but beyond that, beats me. Still, his growl is in full force, and the music propels the song on with urgency, and he's so full of bloody conviction that you just have to dig it. Is he talking about the past, or the present? Beats me. I don't care. It's still great.

197. Foxy Lady (by the Jimi Hendrix Experience on the album Are You Experienced?, 1967): Another song you know by heart, and if you don't, shame on you! That great guitar intro, that hoarse whispering, that sly Hendrix pseudo-singing - you can just picture him getting laid as he sings! There's not much else to say about this tune - it's nasty, and it knows it, and it doesn't care! Sing along with Jimi, y'all!

198. Friend of the Devil (by The Grateful Dead on the album Skeletons From The Closet, 1974): I must admit, I dislike the Dead. Not as much as I loathe The Doors, but still - there's very little to like about Jerry and his boys. However, I can admit when they write good songs, and "Friend of the Devil" is one of those. It rambles along, but not for too long (a big problem I have with a lot of Dead songs, especially when they're live), and even thought Jerry (that is Jerry singing, isn't it?) is singing about somewhat serious subjects (his lost love, prison, a kid who may or may not be his, and of course, chasing the Devil), he has that little goofy lilt in his voice that lets you know it's all in fun. The Dead certainly don't take themselves too seriously, which is nice, but generally - yuck. This is still a great song, though.

199. Fugitive (by Indigo Girls on the album Swamp Ophelia, 1994): The Indigo Girls begin this album, a departure from their previous folksy ones, with this dark tale of fear and redemption. The music is bold and brooding, but ultimately there is a reconciliation of the singer's two halves and a hope for the future. It's a creepy song from the girls, and it signaled a shift in their style to darker and more introspective music (yes, they were introspective before, but not terribly dark).

200. The Full Bug (by Van Halen on the album Diver Down, 1982): Diver Down is notable for having a bunch of covers on it ("Pretty Woman" and "Dancing In The Streets," both of which are kind of lousy), but for my money, the best songs on it are the boys' originals, one of which is this song, which ends the album (except for a brief rendition of "Happy Trails," that is). It's a mean little song, with Diamond Dave mumbling through a bluesy introduction and then letting us have it full blast, and Eddie's guitars keeping up with full fervor. All Dave wants to give the woman is the best part of a man - is that so wrong? This is one of those songs that makes Van Halen great. And yet they always play "Pretty Woman" on the radio. What the crap is up with that?

So another ten songs are in the books. I know I have lost your respect for my musical tastes long ago, but if you want to tell me I'm an idiot, I'd be happy to listen. Have at it!