Great songs, according to me (Part 30)

300 songs that I think are great. I'm sure impressed with myself!

Let's link to the previous entries: Parts 1-15, archived, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, and Part 29. Now, let's move on to the next 10 songs.

291. Interior Lulu (by Marillion on the album marillion.com, 1999): Marillion just released a new album, which is decent but not great. I didn't mean to have yet another Marillion song on this list just as they release a new album, it just worked out that way. "Interior Lulu" is a monster song, sprawling and jazzy and just a bit funky. It tells a tale of isolation even as the Internet allows us to "connect" but severs our link to the actual world. It's a sad song, but it never descends into gloominess. The music powers the song along, starting with a sly beat and a groovy bass line before becoming a cacophony in the middle section of the song, reflecting the spiral of madness our world has become. The heart of the song comes when Hogarth sings, "If you can break it, it's already broken," a heartfelt cry that yearns for meaning in a meaningless world. Not the most fun song in the world, but a powerful statement nonetheless.

292. International Bright Young Thing (by Jesus Jones on the album Doubt, 1991): Doubt is a good album, helped by some stellar songs, of which this is an example. It has a great groove, and although the lyrics aren't anything fantastic, Edwards does give us a wry critique of pop culture even as he indulges in some funky dance music. It's a great song to play loud and bop your head to. There's nothing wrong with that!

293. Is it Too Late? (by World Party on the album Goodbye Jumbo, 1990): As usual with a great many World Party songs, this has a strong environmental bent to it, and unlike some of Wallinger's tunes, it doesn't get overwhelmed by it. The song has a nice exotic flavor to it, with almost dreamy music and oddly surreal lyrics. Wallinger sings about rescuing the world and ourselves, and does so without beating us over the head. At the end, when Wallinger whispers about the elephant's graveyard, it's slightly chilling, which is a nice way to end the song.

294. Is This Desire? (by PJ Harvey on the album Is This Desire?, 1998): The final song on Harvey's weakest album yet has nothing to apologize for. Despite the uneven quality of the other songs, this somewhat breathless paean to yearning for more in life is a nice coda. Harvey always seems to come up with at least one gut-wrenching song on every album she releases, and this one stands with her best. Her vocals, which are muted on almost every other song on the disc, come through with the power we expect from Polly Jean. It's a wonderful call for positive emotion in a world that doesn't have enough of it, and it almost redeems the entire album.

295. Istanbul (not Constantinople) (by They Might Be Giants on the album Flood, 1990): Great songs don't necessarily have to be all that meaningful, and so it is with TMBG's cover of this old Jimmy Kennedy/Nat Simon tune. It's a perfectly lightweight song about, well, the name change of the great city on the Bosporus (which isn't really a name change, since "Istanbul" is, as far as I know, simply the Turkish version). TMBG's version is very fun, though, and the violin and accordion bring a nice Turkish flavor to the song. It's a quick piece of musical wonderfulness, and that's all it needs to be. Why did Constantinople get the works? Well, that's nobody's business but the Turks.

296. It Can Happen (by Yes on the album 90125, 1983): Although in the 1980s Yes left the 20-minute opera behind to concentrate on money-grubbing, "It Can Happen" remains a magnificent song, with Jon Anderson in fine high-pitched form and the rest of the band (whoever they were at this point) soaring with him. It's a wonderful melding of vocals and music, and when Anderson wails, "There's a crazy world outside, we're not about to lose our pride," we feel both his despair and his hope. Yes fell too quickly into the just-another-rock-band category (you may not have liked their 1970s noodlings, but at least they were weirdly unique), but this is a nice blast at glory before they landed.

297. It'll Probably Make Me Cry (by Mary's Danish on the album There Goes The Wondertruck ..., 1989): Another song by the criminally underrated Mary's Danish (whose first two albums, including this one, are brilliant), this one is sort-of country, with a nice twang by Julie Ritter (again, I'm assuming it's Julie, even though they have two female singers) and weepy lyrics. Like all there other songs, however, they sell it well, and we feel the pain of loss and the power in the relatively simple lyrics. A wonderful heartfelt song on a great album.

298. It's a Mistake (by Men At Work on the album Cargo, 1982): I probably still have this album on LP, because I'm so old-school. What a fun band Men At Work were, and occasionally, they wrote really brilliant songs. This tune, which has a bit of a Dr. Strangelove vibe to it (at least from the lyrics), also has that hauntingly bizarre music that complements the paranoid lyrics very well. Colin Hay's odd Aussie vocals give the lyrics a wry component that makes the song both more chilling and more ironic. Great stuff.

299. It's Raining Men (by The Weather Girls, 1982): What can I say? It's one of the greatest disco songs ever. And the subject of a very funny sequence in The Simpsons: Moe gets angry at Homer and tells him he's taking Homer's favorite song off the jukebox. Homer, aghast, cries, "It's Raining Men!" and Moe answers, "Not no more it ain't" and hurls the 45 out the window, where it passes through an open car window and hits Smithers in the head. He can't believe his luck! I also played this for my students in the spring of 2002 and a fellow teacher and I sang along at the top of our voices. Needless to say, my students thought I was very odd. I don't care.

300. Jerusalem (by Steve Earle on the album Jerusalem, 2002): In a complete tonal shift, we get the title track of this very good album. Earle sings a simple song about the violence in the Middle East and his hope that things will get better. Earle, despite a seemingly bleak outlook in the short-term (he doesn't like Bush), is often upbeat when thinking about the future, and this song is a perfect example. At the end of the song, he sings, "And there'll be no barricades then, there'll be no wire or walls, and we can wash all this blood from our hands, and all this hatred from our souls." It's a song that looks to a point where we can live together in peace, and Earle gravelly voice does a much better job of selling it than if he were smoother.

Look at that - another ten songs in the books. Feel free to let the vitriol fly when you tell me I know nothing about music!

Great songs, according to me (Part 21)

We're into the third hundred of great songs, according to me, so crack open a can of Schlitz and sit on down to read! There's really nothing better to do on a fine spring weekend than check out what songs some bonehead in Arizona are great, is there? IS THERE?????

As usual, in case you came in late, you can check out my first two hundred selections: the archive of the first 15 parts; Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, and Part 20. Now, let's get it on!

201. Gallows Pole (by Led Zeppelin on the album Led Zeppelin III, 1970): It's been a while since we had a Zep song on the list, but let's kick it back up with a song about whoring out your sister! Yippee! The starkness of the lyrics in "Gallows Pole" is nicely accompanied by the slowly building frenzy of the music, which of course culminates with the hangman banging the condemned's sister. Page really shows off his chops here, as he goes from plucking his guitar to full blast honky-tonk. Whyever is Plant on the Gallows Pole in the first place? It's a mystery for another day!

202. Genie (by Marillion on the album Marbles, 2004): If there's a slight weakness to this song, it's that Steve Hogarth's vocals aren't what they used to be - he can't quite reach the higher registers, and he should stay away from them. However, it doesn't wreck the song, which is a tragic tale of a man who is scared to take risks and find happiness even though he has a woman (the genie, presumably) willing to show him the way. It starts quietly and builds majestically, until you can hear all the fear and sadness because of that fear in Hogarth's voice. A tremendously beautiful song.

203. Gentle Groove (by Mother Love Bone on the album Apple, 1990): I really can't stress enough how brilliant Mother Love Bone was on their one album. I've mentioned them before, and whenever they come up again on this list, I'll tell you again how brilliant they are and how you should track down this recording (the original of which is out of print but which is available packaged with their EP, Shine). "Gentle Groove" is just one of their typically wonderful songs, as the guitar comes in slowly but powerfully, and Andrew Wood's nasal voice with its hint of nastiness wraps around bizarre lyrics that are far more than the sum of their parts. When he reaches the end and sings, "And nobody's gonna take my love away, and nobody's gonna slow my gentle groove," you're pretty sure he's talking about drugs, which makes his death all the more stupid and pointless. All of the songs on the album have some added poignancy because Wood was an idiot, but they're still excellent rock-n-roll, and this one is one of the great ones.

204. Get Out The Map (by Indigo Girls on the album Shaming Of The Sun, 1997): Sure, this is a typical Indigo Girls songs, which means I'm going to like it anyway, and although it doesn't have that special something that lifts other songs by our two favorite folk lesbians above the others, the reason it's a great son is because it sounds sad but is really quite joyous, and when Emily sings, "I'm gonna love you good and strong while our love is good and young," you just can't help but smile. It's also a song that makes you want to literally get out a map and just hit the road. So that's why it's great.

205. Get The Funk Out (by Extreme on the album Pornograffiti, 1990): Yes, it's an Extreme song on this list! While that may invalidate my opinions in the future for anyone who happens to stop by here, I would challenge you to actually sit down and listen to this song before you start bashing me. Great horns, fun guitar, goofy lyrics, and a plea for hedonism. What's not to like? It's just a wacky rock song by big-hair guys who don't take themselves too seriously. Nuno Bettencourt has some great chops, and Gary Cherone has a fantastic rock star voice (his awful Van Halen album notwithstanding), and you can't help but bop your head and sing along at the top of your voice. Don't resist!

And just wait until I get to songs from their 1995 release, Waiting for the Punchline. Why? Let's just say the words "forgotten" and "classic" will be thrown around a lot.

206. Gett Off (by Prince and the NPG on the album Diamonds And Pearls, 1991): Prince is enjoying somewhat of a renaissance these days, but that doesn't mean we should forget his past! Diamonds And Pearls, unfortunately, isn't really that good of an album, but "Gett Off" kicks major ass. Only Prince could make a flute funky, I believe. He has that great greasy vocal working for him in this song, and it has that early-1990s wheeze to it (like in House Of Pain's "Jump Around"), and of course, great lyrics about how hot some girl is and how nasty she likes her sex. Come on, it's Prince, what do you want? People tend to forget about this great dance tune when they think of Prince, which is a shame. It's excellent.

207. Ghost (by Indigo Girls on the album Rites Of Passage, 1992): Holy crap, this is a great song. As usual with the Girls, it's the lyrics that drive it, although the music is powerful enough. It's another Emily song, which is a bit surprising because I tend to like Amy's songs more, but Emily can certainly write kick-ass songs about lost love. Her voice aches as she begins with "There's a letter on the desktop that I dug out of a drawer, the last truce we ever came to in our adolescent war" and when she reaches "You kiss me like a lover then you sting me like a viper" you can almost imagine her weeping as she sings. It's a marvelous evocation of love gone by, a love that probably wasn't that healthy but is missed nonetheless.

208. The Ghost Of A Smile (by The Pogues on the album Hell's Ditch, 1990): Hell's Ditch is a decent Pogues album (of course, I'm a fan, so I think they're all good), but it doesn't reach the heights of their classic albums. That's not the fault of this song, though, which is light-hearted enough, but contains just enough edge to push it to greatness. Shane is smitten by a girl, who can get him to do anything she wants, but he also tells her "Don't wait too long, or I'll be gone." That simple little lyric, coupled with the slight increasing urgency of the music, twists this sweet song just enough to make you realize how ephemeral love can be, and we need to seize it while it's there. Beautiful.¹

209. Give It All Away (by World Party on the album Bang!, 1993): Wow. I just found out, looking for a web site about him, that Karl Wallinger and World Party have a new album out. Just another thing I have to pick up. I mean, it's only been 9 years since the last one. Take a few more years off, Karl! Anyway, Bang! is a good album, helped by this song, in which Karl rocks out a bit more than usual, and gives us biting lyrics about (what else) man's destruction of the earth. Sure, it's a theme he really likes, but it's still relevant, and his anger and sadness comes through very well on this song. How can you argue with lyrics like "It seems to me you're killing all the things you love the most"? See? You can't.

210. Give It Revolution (by Suicidal Tendencies on the album Lights ... Camera ... Revolution, 1990): Mike Muir must have a lot of anger in him, what with the name of the band and then the songs they write. But that's okay, because we reap the benefits with loud punkish thrash metal with some excellent lyrics and bass lines to die for. And, of course, songs about revolution! I love songs about revolution, because it means I'll have a soundtrack for when I take over (after which, like the French one, the revolution will become a dictatorship, but I'll be a good one, I promise), and this song will be near the front. It's just a kick-ass tune, and with lyrics like "Well you can put a bullet in my head but you can't kill a word I've said," you know you want to join the fight! The whole album is brilliant, thanks to this song and a host of others.

Well, that's it for this installment. I know you're always excited and interested in peeking into my twisted musical mind, and I like to accommodate! Enjoy!

¹ Yeah, I used "ephemeral" to describe a Pogues song. You gotta a problem with that? I'm a snooty English major, after all.