Written by George Harrison Produced by George Harrison and Phil Spector Released on All Things Must Pass (November 27, 1970) Released as single on February 15, 1971 Peaked at #10 on Billboard Hot 100 amazonspotifymusic video
My top 100 contains no Beatles songs, no Paul McCartney songs, and no John Lennon songs, but it does contain this one George Harrison song. I'm sorry if this offends anyone. (The list does include two Lennon/McCartney compositions covered by other artists, if that is any sort of consolation.) There were a couple of Beatles songs and a couple Lennon solo tunes I considered for the list, but ultimately, I ran out of space. It's just 100 songs.
As great as the Beatles were, and as much as I love a lot of their music, there wasn't one song of theirs that stood above the rest and merited inclusion here. That happened with a few other bands that I really love. Radiohead, the Allman Brothers, the Black Crowes, Bon Jovi, TV on the Radio, and the Beatles are great bands, who produced great albums, but ultimately none of them have that one song that I had to have on my list. (There are more bands I could mention here, that are missing from my list, but I can't list everyone.) Sometimes lists like this become less about what made the list and more about what is missing. I certainly feel that way about a number of songs and artists.
I was first introduced to George Harrison in the late 1980's when his cover of "Got My Mind Set on You" hit #1. I really hate that song, but it was everywhere, and the music video was played constantly on MTV. I don't know when I learned that Harrison had been in the Beatles, but it was certainly around this time. Eventually I found tunes of his that I actually liked, including quite a few of his Beatles compositions.
"What is Life" rocks. The opening guitar lick exudes fire and energy. While I'm not always a fan of Phil Spector's "Wall of Sound" production, here it brings even more exuberance to a melody that is already pure joy and wants everyone else in the room to shout and sing and feel that joy too. It's impossible to hear this song and not want to get up and do something. I'm pumped right now just thinking about it.
Right now "What is Life" by George Harrison is (probably) my 86th favorite song of all time.
"Ghostwhirl (Remix)" by Jonathan Toth from Hoth feat. MF Doom
Written by Jonathan Getzchman and MF Doom Produced by DJ Crucial Released on Ghostwhirl (single) (2005) Warning: Explicit Lyrics amazonspotify
Jonathan Getzchman (aka Jonathan Toth from Hoth or J-Toth) went to my high school. He's older than me, so I didn't know him then, but I got to know him after college when he started rapping. I was introduced to him by two of his collaborators (who I did know in high school): an artist named Peter Seay (aka Calc2) and another rapper named Tucker Booth (aka Tucker Booth). After college, I spent most of the next five years as a camp counselor, working at a few different camps throughout the year in Missouri and Michigan. When I wasn't working, I would try to find time to come to St. Louis to visit friends and family. During many of those trips, I would end up attending one or more local hip hop shows with Calc2, Tucker Booth, and J-Toth. It was a fun time in my life.
I really enjoyed being around a ton of cool, talented, driven people trying to make a go of it as musicians and artists, and J-Toth was squarely in the middle of it all. He had his own home recording studio and record label called the Frozen Food Section. Quite a few artists used his studio and label to record and produce their records. It was all sweat, spit, and Pro-Tools.
Something that really set J-Toth apart was that he had real goals. He actually had a big poster made listing his goals like tracks on a CD. It sat right in the middle of his apartment/recording studio. One of those goals was to collaborate with quite possibly the biggest name in underground hip hop, MF Doom.
Looking back, it's hard to believe that J-Toth actually made it happen. This was a big deal, and not only did he make it happen, but he managed to produce a pretty darn good track out of it. It's a great song, and I feel strongly that I would feel that way even if I didn't know J-Toth. The original version of the song is on his Lovecycle album, which is a concept album about John's love life. While the album version is excellent, it's almost impossible to not enjoy DJ Crucial's remix more. (Using one of the most iconic guitar intros of all time as a sample is kind of unfair.) Jonathan Getzchman had a dream, made it a goal, put in the work, and made that dream a reality.
Right now "Ghostwhirl (Remix)" by Jonathan Toth from Hoth feat. MF Doom is (probably) my 87th favorite song of all time.
Written by Chris Issak Produced by Erik Jacobsen Released on Baja Sessions (October 8, 1996) amazonspotify
I heard this song for the first time while watching the movie Tin Cup. Up until that point the only Chris Isaak song
I knew was "Wicked Game" because of its somewhat scandalous music video that had enjoyed heavy rotation on MTV in the early 1990's. I loved "I Wonder" from the moment I heard it, and as a result, I will always associate it, for better or worse, with Tin Cup.
I really enjoyed Tin Cup the first few times I saw it. It features peak Kevin Costner and some noteworthy supporting players. Kevin Costner's character, Roy "Tin Cup" McAvoy, is a near perfect film character: He's easy to love and just as easy to hate. He is the noble loser, who has grown comfortable with the fact that the world doesn't really need him anymore. We are given the illusion that maybe he could have been and maybe still can breakthrough and find greatness, but just when it looks like he actually managed to change and find salvation, we are given one of the most devastatingly satisfying losses in sports movie history. McAvoy's near capture of the US Open is magical. Many moments like that are directed and portrayed in a way that force me to want to look away. Not here. Here I cannot help but watch McAvoy's unraveling.
Tin Cup has a problem though. As great as Costner's McAvoy is, the female lead, Dr. Molly Griswold, played by Rene Russo, is the absolute worst type of female character. The sad thing is, I wasn't able to figure this out on my own. A friend who was watching the movie with me had to wake me up to it. Tin Cup is a movie was made by men, about men, and for men. Dr. Molly Griswold is the biggest wet-blanket love interest ever written. We are given the briefest moment of hope when her character is first introduced, that she will be the strong woman that McAvoy needs to turn his life around and finally realize the potential that is locked up inside of himself. After that first brief interaction, however, it is just as quickly revealed that she is the most helpless and love-lost woman of them all. Of course she is in love with a jerk but can't see it. Of course she lets herself get talked into an ethically compromising "professional" relationship with another man. Of course she needs a man to help her find meaningful success both personally and professionally. It's shameful.
Everything is centered around Roy. He never has to change. The final sequence fits right in with who he is and will always be. He cannot literally or figuratively lay up, even when it is clearly the best path to victory. We, as viewers, get to bask in his inability to change and his need to prove himself as he stoically throws away personal glory. Molly just gets to be the weak woman who finally finds empowerment through her man.
Tin Cup is not a unique movie. There are probably thousands of female characters in all types of media who fit this mold. Dr. Molly Griswold is just another woman who can't see that her significant other is a jerk, when it is obvious to everyone else. She's just another woman who finally lets go of her inhibitions because she finds the right man. She's just another woman trying to help others put their lives in order, when she's the one whose life is a mess.
If you think I might be off base in my critique of Tin Cup (I'm not), give it a watch (or a re-watch) and let me know what you find out.
Of course, the only reason I care so much about this movie is because of the song. "I Wonder" is fantastic, in the movie and anywhere else it chooses to be heard. Chris Isaak wrote a perfect song. It manages to be both sad and hopeful. Isaak's lyrics and melody paint a picture of pain and regret. Will things ever be the same? Will they ever be as good as they once were? Sometimes we can only wonder and hope and pray. I'm not sure how he found that perfect lyrical balance, but he did. Then he wrapped those lyrics in a melody that is just as hopeful and just as sad.
Right now "I Wonder" by Chris Isaak is (probably) my 88th favorite song of all time.
Written by Van Morrison Produced by Lewis Merenstein Released on Astral Weeks (November 29, 1968) amazonspotify
Today I'm going to share some gratitude. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!
I am grateful for my family. My family is spread out across the country, but they have always opened their doors and arms to me. I love my family.
I am grateful for my friends. I don't always do the best job keeping in touch with all of my friends, but I am eternally grateful to the people who have welcomed me into their lives throughout the years. I cherish the time I have been able to spend with each of you, and I am already looking forward to next time, whenever that might be.
I am grateful for my students, both present and past. I have learned so much from you. Hopefully you have learned something too.
I am especially grateful for the international students I have had over the years. You have helped me to gain a greater awareness to the wide world around me. I have appreciated the chance to see how our differences make us stronger, and that we are all truly one great human family.
I am grateful for the opportunity to work with so many fantastic people. It is hard for me to imagine a better group of colleagues than those who work with me now. Thank you for putting up with me and for helping me when I need it. It is humbling to be surrounded by so many brilliant educators.
I am grateful for basketball and the opportunity to coach. I am nearing a decade of coaching, which is hard to believe. Seeing my students grow and overcome adversity on the court is a true privilege.
I am grateful for music and all the beauty that people have shared with the world through their music. Any music that has helped someone experience something sublime is special, regardless of whether I enjoy it or not.
And finally, I am grateful for my pillow: can't get a good night's sleep without it.
I am also grateful for Van Morrison, for writing and recording "Sweet Thing." I don't have much to say about it besides that it is wonderful. It is certainly my favorite Van Morrison song. Critics and popular radio stations might choose other songs of his first, but for me this is his finest work.
"Sweet Thing" by Van Morrison is (probably) my 89th favorite song of all time.
Music by Black Sabbath (Geezer Butler, Tony Iommi, Ozzy Osbourne, Bill Ward) Lyrics by Geezer Butler Produced by Black Sabbath and Patrick Meehan Released on Vol. 4 (September 25, 1972) amazonspotify
I first got turned onto "Changes" through this YouTube video of Charles Bradley covering it live in studio. It's a cool video of a soul singer doing a song by a prototypically metal band. While Black Sabbath are the Godfathers of Heavy Metal, "Changes" is not heavy metal. As a ballad, it's actually closer to soul. The first time I listened to Black Sabbath's version, I'm not sure I knew what to think. Why did the band who invented heavy metal, put down their guitars and produce a piano ballad?
Before I go any further into why this song is on my top 100 list, I feel the need to say something. I don't like Ozzy Osbourne. His solo work is terrible (with the exception of "Crazy Train"). I can't listen to his voice for too long before it starts to grate on me, but he is a founding member of one of the greatest bands of all time. I don't know much about how he contributed to their songwriting process (their bassist Geezer Butler wrote almost all their lyrics), but Black Sabbath wrote and recorded some amazing, timeless music. The power of the music they produced is so massive and compelling, that I ended up with two of their songs my top 100, despite what I just said about Ozzy. (The other song of theirs on my list is much more emblematic of their general oeuvre.)
As important as Black Sabbath is as a band in the greater history of rock music, and as much as Ozzy Osbourne annoys me, I'm not sure that either of those things has much to do with why this song is currently one of the 100 favorite songs. "Changes" just speaks to me. It is a break up song. It's lyrics are simple, sad, and true. Sometimes simple, sad, and true is all a song or poem needs.
I also think that "Changes" is a great example of a fantastic song that was made into an imperfect record. While the song is fantastic (as Charles Bradley displayed), Black Sabbath's record is flawed. The piano part could swing just a bit more. The strings might be a little over the top. Someone other than Ozzy could be singing. Even with all of those apparent flaws, when this song comes on my playlist, I still find myself happy to listen. The song itself is good enough, that it can overcome a lack of vision and execution in the recording studio.
I love this song. I may not love if forever, but right now I do. If I remade this list tomorrow, I'm not sure that this song would still be on it. Right now, though, when I listen to it, it still feels great. I still love it.
Right now "Changes" by Black Sabbbath is (probably) my 90th favorite song of all time.
Written by Ed Droste, Daniel Rossen, Chris Taylor, Christopher Bear Produced by Chris Taylor Released on Veckatimest (May 26, 2009) Released as single on June 1, 2009 amazonspotifymusic video
Released in 2009, "Two Weeks" is the most recently produced song on my top 100 list. Growing up, I never expected to be out of touch with popular music. Even when I was getting into classic rock, I still listened to and was aware of new music that was out there. Sometimes it was just to scoff at it. Sometimes there was cool stuff that I liked. Now, I simply don't really care. How did this happen?
My parents were both fans of music. My dad grew up listening to the great swing bands of his youth and continued listening to jazz throughout his early adulthood. When I started playing the saxophone in elementary school, he told me about his favorite alto player, Paul Desmond, who famously played for the Dave Brubeck Quartet. My dad loved the Time Out album (released in 1959). Even his love of jazz had its limits though. When I played in the jazz band at Lindenwood, he got really annoyed that my band director only had us playing more modern stuff. He even went so far as to donate charts to the university for some swing classics. I'm pretty sure his musical tastes never ventured very far out of the 1950s.
My mom is a little different. She was in high school when the Beatles played on The Ed Sullivan Show. At the time, my mom was attending a boarding school, so all the girls were down in the dorm living room watching on the communal TV. The way my mom told it, once the Beatles started playing, just like the girls in the audience, most of the girls in the dorm started screaming. My mom was not one of those girls. She actually wanted to hear the music, so she tried to tell the other girls to be quiet. Her efforts unfortunately were fruitless.
My mom continued listening to music into the late sixties and seventies. She was more aware than my dad of what was happening in music when I was growing up. I remember her being the one to tell me when we were living in New Jersey that Bon Jovi and Whitney Houston were both from New Jersey too. She at least had a finger to the pulse. She certainly wasn't listening to the same stuff I was, but she was still finding music she enjoyed. Even now, she loves supporting local jazz artists and inspirational music, including the work of my amazing sister (her step daughter) Julia Wade. Keep up the great work sis!
As I got older, my tastes evolved, and I continued looking for more music. Whether it was something new or something old that I had missed, the search never seemed to stop. There was too much beauty and artistry to ignore. I kept buying CDs and mp3s and cultivating playlists. But then, sometime around the time I turned 30, it stopped mattering as much. I had my collection, and it seemed like it was enough. Sure I would buy some music occasionally, but it was often stuff that I had wanted previously, but just hadn't bought yet; just rounding out my collection. Not much new music.
If someone asked for my opinion of the greatest albums of each decade from the 60s on, I could at least come up with decent answers for each of the decades up until our current decade. I'm not even sure I could name 10 albums from the 2010s. There are a handful of albums from the first few years of the decade, but after that only "Awaken, My Love!" by Childish Gambino has made any sort of impact on me. I've become my father. I'm content with the music I like, and that's about all I need.
What happened to me? How did I become this shell of a music lover? Will I ever care about new music again? Every passing year I feel like I can relate more and more to Abe Simpson's classic quote:
I used to be with it, but then they changed what it was. Now what I'm with isn't it, and what's it seems weird and scary to me. It'll happen to you.
So here I am, writing about my favorite songs, and everything is old. Only 17 out of my top 100 were released after the oldest student I am currently teaching was born, and (of course) that number can only get smaller.
But this song, "Two Weeks" is fantastic, regardless of when it was released. It has magical harmonies and a chill vibe. Grizzly Bear are a bit avant-garde, and I haven't found much more from them that I like, but "Two Weeks" is simply awesome.
Right now "Two Weeks" by Grizzly Bear is (probably) my 91st favorite song of all time.
Written by David Cohen Produced by Midas Wells Released on Dennehy (2006) spotifyamazon
I first met Serengeti sometime around 2004 or 2005. He had just played a show at the Hi-Pointe in St. Louis. I went with a few of my friends who were more familiar with him than I was. One of them had played me a bootlegged version of his song "Dennehy," which was both hilarious and excellent.
After the show, outside the venue, I was talking with Midas Wells, one of Serengeti's collaborators. I mentioned how much I loved "Dennehy." He was like, cool, I produced that. Then he mentioned that he had produced an entire album for Serengeti. I said cool. He handed me Noticeably Negro. I handed him 15 bucks. Everyone went home happy.
Come to think of it, I'm not sure that I actually met Serengeti that night. I'm starting to wonder if I ever talked to him. I definitely met Midas Wells, but I'm not sure if Serengeti was there when we talked. I might have been introduced to him before the show, but I'm not sure.
At that time, I was spending most of the year in Michigan, so when I was in St. Louis, I was spending as much time as I could with my best friend. What he was spending a lot of his time doing was live art at local hip-hop shows. He was doing this primarily for a couple of guys we had gone to high school with, who were now trying to make it as rappers. It was a fun time, and a scene I never would have expected to get heavily involved with. I met a bunch of really cool people, got to hang out back stage a few times, and listened to some really cool local music and occasionally some not so good local music. Serengeti, even though he was from Chicago, had collaborated with some of these local guys I was getting to know. This is why I think I met him at some point, but because neither of us were living full-time in St. Louis then, I might not have.
Here's what I do remember. At the time of that show of his that I went to see, "Dennehy" had not yet been officially released, but it had been passed around a ton. When Serengeti was doing his set, in between songs, people in the crowd kept yelling for "Dennehy." I could tell he didn't really want to, or at least hadn't planned to. Finally towards the end of his set, once it seemed that everyone in that tight crowd was chanting for it, he did went ahead and signaled for his DJ to play the track. The crowd went bananas and Serengeti started rapping. At one point, as I'm rapping along, I realized that he couldn't remember all the lyrics. I swear he started looking at me, expecting me to help him with the lyrics, but I didn't know all the words either. It was kind of a disaster, but it didn't really matter. The people heard "Dennehy," everyone loved it too much to care, and we all went home happy.
I don't love everything that Serengeti has released. His Noticeably Negro album, that I mentioned earlier, was good, and had a couple songs that I liked, but overall it was not quite my style. When he finally released a Dennehy album, I was excited and picked it up. It too is hit and miss, but has more stuff I like including a few more songs where Serengeti puts on his 'Kenny' persona like he did for "Dennehy." Kenny is basically one of those guys from the old SNL Super-Fan skits: a mustached, brat-eating Chicago sports fan. Apparently that guy also loves the movies of the great Brian Dennehy. I'm not sure I would have put that together, but now that I think about it, it makes pretty good sense.
"Ozzie Guillen" takes that Kenny character to the next level. I love the laid back beat and the flow of the story. I love that in the wake of the White Sox' World Series triumph, he can't help but scream Ozzie Guillen's name. I love that he drinks O'Doul's, and I love that he loves his wife. It's a happy song and a funny song and it makes me smile when I hear it. It also reminds me of a crazy time in my life when I was an underground St. Louis hip hop super-fan.
Right now "Ozzie Guillen" by Serengeti is (probably) my 92nd favorite song of all time.
Written by Tom Scholz Produced by John Boylan and Tom Scholz Released on Boston (August 25, 1976) amazonspotifyyoutube
Boston's first album was everywhere when I was a teenager. Whenever I looked through any of my friends' CD collections, I would almost always find Boston's self-titled debut, which makes sense because it is an amazing album. Back in the days of CDs, albums needed to be good. I hated buying an album only to discover that it only had two good songs. Boston by Boston is one of those epic rarities, an album with no bad songs. You felt safe putting this into your CD player knowing you never had to press skip. Its only downside was that its run-time was just 37 minutes.
It's actually somewhat surprising to me that anyone makes albums anymore. With streaming services providing cultivated playlists on demand, is there any reason to release an entire album? Will people actually listen to it? I still find myself buying and listening to albums, but I'm pretty sure that makes me the exception. I grew up with album oriented rock being the template, so I don't know any better.
The enduring greatness of Boston's best songs can be attributed to two things: Tom Scholz and Brad Delp. Everything great about Boston starts with Scholz. His guitar sound and songwriting defined the band. He actually recorded everything in his own home studio, playing all the instruments except the drums. His guitar sound, soaring and heavily layered, is simply spectacular. And the way he uses his unique sound is perfect: pick drags, harmonized lead lines, and crunchy riffs. These are all things I love. But his sound and vision could have been for naught if he hadn't found the perfect singer to bring it all together.
Brad Delp's beautiful high voice brings Scholz's melodies to life. However, as much as I love his voice, it's nearly impossible to sing along with. Boston's hooks are so catchy, I simply have to try, but eventually Delp reaches for that next level. Every single time. Every song. I'm driving around and singing along and stretching my voice. I'm feeling good, and then he just goes that one step higher, and it's all over. But I keep trying anyway.
"Something About You" is easily my favorite Boston song. It pumps me up. It has a great melody, soaring guitars, and it rocks. Even when I fail to reach that high note, I can't help but feel good about everything.
Right now "Something About You" by Boston is (probably) my 93rd favorite song of all time.
Written by Cornell Haynes Jr., Lavell Webb, Jason Epperson Produced by Jason Epperson Released on Country Grammar (June 27, 2000) Released as single on March 10, 2001 Peaked at #3 on Billboard Hot 100 Warning: Explicit Lyrics amazonspotifymusic video
When I was in college I got pulled into an argument between two of my fraternity brothers. Though I didn't know the significance of this at the time, one was from St. Louis, and the other was from California. The argument was Nelly vs. Snoop Dogg. Even today, I don't listen to much hip hop, but at that time I listened to almost none. All I knew then, was that The Chronic was maybe the greatest rap album ever released, and Snoop was a huge part of the reason why. Nelly, on the other hand, was to that point a one hit wonder, and that one hit didn't seem very good. I sided with my California friend in a way that was probably pretty condescending to my St. Louis brother.
Why would anyone try to put Nelly on that kind of level?
Have you ever had one of those moments where, all of a sudden something that had confused you earlier suddenly makes sense? The 2000 MTV Video Music Awards were one of those moments for me. Nelly was from St. Louis! I had no idea. When Nelly came out to perform, even though he wasn't wearing a shirt, the rest of his crew were wearing Cardinals, Blues, and Rams jerseys. Now that argument from a few months earlier made sense. Of course my friend from St. Louis would think that a St. Louis rapper was an all-time great.
St. Louisans will defend their own. Nelly is from St. Louis and had a hit record. Of course he's the best. Right? While that may not be something I believe, I will defend St. Louis' tradition in popular music until I die. Scott Joplin wrote his greatest ragtime melodies here. Miles Davis rose out of East St. Louis to become jazz music's most innovative and influential trumpeter and composer. Clark Terry was the first black musician to play with NBC's orchestra and the Tonight Show Band. St. Louis can make a strong case for being the birthplace of rock and roll because of the work and enduring legacies of Chuck Berry and Ike and Tina Turner. The early 2000's saw a resurgence of St. Louis talent. Nelly led the way, but the Urge, Chingy, Uncle Tupelo, and others made many a St. Louisan proud.
While most of Nelly's catalog never resonated strongly with me, "Ride wit Me" is the exception. It is smooth. It grooves. It's simply a fun song. I was not expecting it to end up in my top 100, but as I was putting this list together, other songs that I love just couldn't quite bump Nelly from this spot. Maybe it's that he's from St. Louis. Maybe I wanted to have just one more hip hop song on my list. Maybe I wanted an excuse to attempt to compare Nelly with all those other transcendently talented St. Louis musicians. Or maybe this song is just that good.
Right now "Ride with Me" by Nelly is (probably) my 94th favorite song of all time.
Written by Paul Simon Produced by Paul Simon and Phil Ramone Released on Greatest Hits, Etc. (November 1977) Released as single October 1977 Peaked at #5 on Billboard Hot 100 amazonspotify
When I got sick as a child, my mom would sing hymns in order to comfort me. Music--good music--has always been comforting to me. The best way that I can describe "Slip Slidin' Away" is to say that it is musical comfort food. As soon as those opening notes are sung, I feel like I can breathe a sigh of relief. I love songs that give me that feeling.
I have always loved Paul Simon, as a songwriter and performer. His video for "You Can Call Me Al" was one of my favorite music videos growing up. He seemed really cool. The song featured silly lyrics, fun horns, and cool African rhythms. The video was just Paul Simon and Chevy Chase being silly. What more could a 9 year old watching MTV want?
This song is on this list because it is beautiful, because it relaxes me, because I love when I hear it. That's all I need to say.
Right now "Slip Slidin' Away" by Paul Simon is (probably) my 95th favorite song of all time.
Written by Bradley Nowell Produced by Sublime Released on Robbin' the Hood (February 8, 1994) amazonspotify
Bradley Nowell, Sublime's frontman, wrote and recorded "Pool Shark (acoustic)" sometime between 1993 and 1994. On the recording, Nowell sings plaintively and metaphorically about his struggles with heroin addiction. Less than three years after writing and singing the lyrics "one day I'm gonna lose the war," he did. On May 25, 1996, two months before Sublime's third album was released and rocketed the band to stardom, Bradley Nowell died from a heroin overdose. Like so many other artists before and after him, Nowell died too young because of a battle with addiction that he ultimately could not win.
My college roommate is the one who really introduced me to Sublime around the year 2000. He was the person who first played me this song and explained to me what it was about. "Pool Shark" appears on Sublime's second album,Robbin' the Hood, which is less an album than a complete mess. It only has three complete songs on it that are surrounded by a few acoustic demos (like this one), some incomplete instrumental jams, and these weird soliloquies from a man who apparently was a diagnosed schizophrenic. It's actually amazing that their record company put up with this, and that their third album, which helped them ultimately break through to the mainstream, was even produced.
Sublime recorded two versions of this song, one a hardcore punk version with the whole band (that clocks in at less than one minute long) and the version featured here: just Bradley Nowell's voice and guitar.
Amid this mess of an album, this short, acoustic song about Nowell's ultimately unsuccessful battle with heroin addiction stuck with me. There have been many other songs written about heroin and the perils of heroin addiction. While I can't say that "Pool Shark" is a better song than many of these, it's the one that found me at the right time and in the right place. I loved how personal his performance felt: just Nowell's voice and guitar and a four-track recorder. The song also held extra weight for me because I didn't find it until after Nowell's death. Listening to him sing about the struggle that ultimately killed him was haunting and sad and eerily prophetic.
Heroin used to be something I only associated with musicians and artists and junkies. No one I knew would think about messing with the stuff; it always seemed too scary, too powerful, and too dangerous. Because I associated heroin with celebrity, it almost didn't feel real to me. Famous people always seemed to live a life apart from the real world, and as a result of that image, the heroin they used was disconnected from my sense of reality.
Earlier this year however, things changed for me. I learned that opioid and opiate addiction and abuse has killed more than one person I have known. Thinking about these individuals, whose lives were cut short, brought words like epidemic and addiction into sharp focus for me. Now it wasn't just about celebrities on the other side of a camera lens or staggering numbers and statistics. It was now, as it has always been, about real people, whether I chose to see it that way or not.
A couple of weeks ago, I attended a book reading for Fentanyl, Inc.: How Rogue Chemists Are Creating the Deadliest Wave of the Opioid Epidemic by Ben Westhoff. I went because I knew Ben, and I wanted to continue supporting him and his work. When my friend and I arrived, the room was already packed. It quickly became clear that most of the people in the room were not there because of the author, but because of the book's subject matter. During the Q&A there were not really any questions asked about the book. Almost everyone who put their hand up and got a hold of the mic shared a story about a family member of theirs who had died of a drug overdose. At one point, an individual asked the audience how many people in the room had known someone who had died from opioid or opiate use; almost everyone in the room raised their hand. These were people, much like me, who had never thought that something like heroin (or drugs similar to it) would affect their lives so directly.
I cannot pretend to understand what those people who shared such personal stories that night must have gone through. My own experiences seem very tangential in comparison. As I started writing this piece, I had thought I would write about the people I have known who have died from opioid or opiate overdoses, but each time I tried to write about who they were and how I knew them and what I knew, it became increasingly clear that their stories were not mine to tell.
These were not family members or close friends of mine. These were people I knew and had fun with. They were closer with my friends than with me. We got along and enjoyed spending time together, but our paths ultimately diverged. I certainly haven't felt the kind of grief or anger or pain or blame that people who have lost those closest to them have surely felt. I have had moments of contemplation, wondering whether I should have tried to stay in better touch with them, or whether I could have become closer with them. But then I would ask myself, is that even fair? Who am I to think that I could have magically proved to be the difference between life and death for these people? I cannot possibly have that kind of power, right?
But maybe that's not fair either. Maybe I'm just making excuses for myself, trying to shirk any kind of personal responsibility for their deaths. Maybe I'm just trying to avoid feeling my fair share of blame or guilt. Certainly there has to be something more I could have done.
Unfortunately, I cannot change the past. In the end, all I really know is that it sucks that they died when they did, and it sucks that they could not find a way to effectively treat their disease.
My time reflecting on this has led me to realize that I can do more, and we can do more. My hope is that we, as a society, can work to find real solutions to this problem and somehow harness the seemingly overwhelming power of this epidemic. And I know I can't just wait around for society to take care of this. I need to be part of the solution too, not just a bystander waiting for someone else to solve these problems. I have to find a way to do my part for the world and for those closest to me. The least I can do, is find a way to put myself into a position where if one of my close friends or family members ever slides down this treacherous path, I can recognize it and find a way to help them. And I hope that you would do the same.
Like Bradley Nowell, too many people have died this way. We don't need any more people to lose the war.
Right now "Pool Shark (acoustic)" by Sublime is (probably) my 96th favorite song of all time.
Written by Bruce Springsteen Produced by Mike Appel and Jim Cretecos Released on The Wild, the Innocent & The E Street Shuffle (November 11, 1973) amazonspotify
Growing up in the 1980's it seemed impossible to ignore Bruce Springsteen. Born in the USA was a mammoth album. I don't know if every song on that album was a Top 10 hit, but it sure felt that way at the time. It helped that I lived in New Jersey for about 5 years when I was younger, so I was raised to feel an unmerited kinship towards Bruce, Bon Jovi, and Whitney Houston. As I grew older, I started listening to more Bruce, specifically his Born to Run era stuff that got played on classic rock radio stations. I really took a deep dive into all things Bruce Springsteen after college. College had been both easy and hard for me: Easy because I did not put nearly as much effort as I could have or should have into my school work or extra-curriculars; and hard because I was learning a ton about myself and the world but was really burnt out on school. So after college, rather than trying to make it work as a classroom teacher, I tried to live the dream of being a year round camp counselor. I eventually moved to Michigan where I worked at an outdoor center near the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore. For a time it was pretty glorious. While we had programs going on at the outdoor center, the staff would stay in a bunkhouse that had a couple bunk rooms and a communal area in the middle. We'd work long hours during the week and crash during the weekends. Often we would make big plans for the weekend, only to find ourselves sleeping in, watching movies, trying to use our one computer with dial-up internet, and scrounging around in the kitchen for food. I had a Netflix account at that time, so often I'd use those lazy weekends as an opportunity to try to watch one or more of the DVDs that had been delivered to me. In 2005 Bruce Springsteen released a concert video: Hammersmith Odeon, London '75. I was already starting my deep dive into all things Bruce, so I moved it up my queue and forced some of the other staff members to watch some live Bruce with me. When the DVD got to "Kitty's Back" for the first time, I was enamored. It was such a cool song, and just different enough from what I knew of Bruce's music at the time to get me hooked. What really got me was the end of the song, when the titular Kitty actually comes back. The E Street Band starts whispering "here she comes, here she comes..." until finally the song explodes into jubilant glee. Then the joy fades and reality sets in as Bruce wonders aloud, "Ooh what can I do?" I just wanted to hear it again and again. So when the song finished, I skipped back and played it again. I didn't realize that it was 17 minutes long (they do an extended solo section in the middle). Three hours after I had begun watching the DVD, and my colleagues were a bit surprised to find me still watching Bruce. I was in love. Soon after I found the CD for the Hammersmith Odeon Live '75 show and bought it, followed pretty quickly by purchases of more of his albums. I still love Bruce, but not as much as I did in 2005. Bruce was a brilliant songwriter, who didn't seem to know how to take those songs and make them into great records in the studio.
The studio version for "Kitty's Back" is actually good, which is kind of the exception to the rule for his early work. His first album is full of fantastic songs that were very poorly produced. So many songs that I loved live, or that other musicians covered successfully, were wildly disappointing on the album. My second favorite song of his is his live version of "Lost in the Flood." The problem is that while the live version in London was visceral and powerful, in studio it falls flat. It's almost boring. The Wild, the Innocent, and the E Street Shuffle was a better album than his first, but still couldn't completely capture the electricity and verve of live Bruce. He managed to catch lightning in a bottle when he recorded the studio version of "Born to Run" in 1974, but it also apparently took six months to do. Bruce is great. Live Bruce is legendary. Right now "Kitty's Back" by Bruce Springsteen is (probably) my 97th favorite song of all time.
Written by Justin Furstenfeld Produced by Nick Launay Released on Consent to Treatment (May 15, 2000) Released as a single in 2000 Warning: Explicit Lyrics amazonspotify
"Breakfast After 10" is a breakup song. Despite the fact that I hadn't had very much experience with breakups when I first heard the song, I felt a strong connection to it. Justin Furstenfeld is so plaintive and angry and passionate in his delivery, it seemed hard to ignore. I don't always pay close attention to lyrics in songs, but if the vocalist sounds like they are putting every ounce of energy into each word, it almost doesn't matter to me what they're singing about. I feed off of their passion and vitriol and spit. "Breakfast After 10" certainly has its share of those things.
I first heard "Breakfast After 10" on 93X (KNSX 93.3), a radio station based out of Steeleville, MO (a town that's about 80 miles outside St. Louis). At that time I was attending Lindenwood University in St. Charles, MO (which is about 20 miles outside St. Louis). They broadcasted 24/7 without live DJs, which was a new thing at the time. Everything was digital and run by a computer. I'm not even sure if they had a full-time employee. Every once in a while they played a prerecorded tag promoting the radio station or introducing the next song or back-selling the previous one. It was just music, with very few commercials. Because the tower was pretty far outside St. Louis, the signal wasn't always perfect, but the music was mostly good. They played alternative music without getting into the Nu-Metal stuff that was starting to take over the other alternative radio station in St. Louis (105.7 the Point).
They played "Breakfast After 10" pretty frequently for about a year. They never played their prerecorded tag for this song, so for most of that year, I had no idea what the song was or who played it. Eventually I emailed the station to find out who it was. Have you ever tried to describe a song to someone in writing, when you don't know the name of it? It's not easy. Luckily I was able to explain enough, and someone wrote me back with the name and artist.
93X no longer exists. Maybe they were ahead of their time, or maybe their demise was inevitable since no one listens to the radio anymore. I am grateful that I found them, and they played some cool music. They even hired a friend of mine from school who was getting into broadcasting to record some of their tags. It was fun to hear a voice I recognized on the radio every once in a while.
Right now "Breakfast After 10" by Blue October is (probably) my 98th favorite song.
Lyrics by David Byrne Music by David Byrne, Brian Eno, Chris Frantz, Jerry Harrison, Tina Weymouth Produced by Brian Eno Released on Remain in the Light (October 8, 1980) Released as a single on February 2, 1981 amazonspotifymusic video
What is cool? Are Talking Heads cool? Is David Byrne cool? Is it cool to put a Talking Heads song on my list? Am I cool?
Don't answer that.
Putting the Talking Heads on my list might be perceived as me trying to seem cool. People who were into New Wave bands always seemed cool, or maybe they were just trying to seem cool. Were New Wave fans hipsters?
To be honest, as much as I like this song, I'm probably just putting this song here to seem cooler than I am. That's part of the history of pop music: People sharing the music they think is cool with others in an attempt to appear cool. Some people try to be cool by liking the most popular music that everyone else likes. Others try to be cool by liking the most obscure music they can find. Putting the second most recognizable song by the second most popular New Wave band at #99 on my list is me trying to live somewhere in between those two extremes, which is definitely not cool.
Bands like Talking Heads are not quite accessible enough to be universally liked, but also not quite so inaccessible to be super obscure. They are the perfect band for a try-hard like me.
Being cool has always been some mythical state that I've never quite been able to achieve. There might be some people who think I'm cool, but they are almost certainly incorrect. I have always floated somewhere between knowing I am uncool and trying hard to appear cool, or steering way to hard into my uncoolness that it actually makes me even more uncool. I'm one of those people that thinks too much and tries too hard to ever actually pull off any kind of consistent level of cool.
I never got too deep into New Wave music. I really like the Cars (despite no Cars song appearing on this list). I never really tried to get into Elvis Costello, and other than the Talking Heads, I'm not too sure who else fits into the New Wave category. My lack of knowledge of New Wave music is yet another strike against my coolness.
I think it's safe to say that "Once in a Lifetime" is a cool song that was written and performed by a cool band, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that it is a great song. I'm sure Talking Heads made other good songs too, but this is the only one that broke through to me.
The verses of "Once in a Lifetime" are kind of weird. I read that David Byrne was trying to imitate early rap, but it sounds more like he's trying to preach to us. The guitar/synth/keyboard riff underneath is hypnotic; the bass is pulsing; and then the chorus hits.
The chorus of "Once in a Lifetime" is unadulterated euphoria. A good sing-along chorus is a beautiful thing. My list is full of great songs with transcendent hooks. The simplest way to record a song that I will fall in love with, is to multi-track the vocals during the chorus so it sounds like a giant choir or even a whole stadium is singing along. I love that stuff.
"Once in a Lifetime" is the song on my list that was released closest to the day I was born. It is also the only song on the list that was released during my birth year. The 1980's did produce some great songs and great bands, but not many of my favorites. The 1990's is when I really fell in love with music, and the music of the 1970's seemed to resonate more with my tastes.
Talking Heads recorded at least one great song, so that make them cool in my book (which probably doesn't mean too much).
Right now "Once in a Lifetime" by Talking Heads is (probably) my 99th favorite song of all time.
Written by Guns n' Roses Produced by Guns n' Roses and Mike Clink Released on G N' R Lies (November 29, 1988) Released as single April 1989 Peaked at #4 on the Billboard Hot 100 amazonspotifymusic video
I was a good kid. I followed the rules. I listened to my parents. I liked Bon Jovi. Then Appetite for Destruction was released.
Nothing changed. I was still a good kid. I was told that Guns n' Roses were bad boys. They did drugs. They looked scary. Their album came with a parental advisory sticker. I knew that I was not supposed to like this band. So I ignored them. I continued listening to Bon Jovi and Aerosmith and Poison and David Lee Roth doing silly covers and making silly music videos.
Later in 1990 or 1991 while hanging with a couple guys who were a little bit older than me, one of them had a radio with a tape deck that was playing something that rocked. I really liked what I was hearing. So I asked him about it.
Me: "What song is that?"
Him: "'Night Train' by Guns n' Roses." (It might have been that. I'm not sure. I just know that it wasn't something I had heard on the radio or seen on MTV.)
Me: "Oh, I don't like that song."
Him: "You would like it if it wasn't Guns n' Roses."
That comment really offended me. It offended me because even though I knew that he was right, I wasn't going to admit it. Then as I wrestled with that, I realized that I was actively avoiding listening to music that I genuinely enjoyed. That frustrated me even more!
As that year continued, my brother, who was two years older than me, dove deep into his heavy metal phase. I started to follow along, but still clung on to the hair bands that I loved. Guns n' Roses fit as a nice middle ground between the safe, pretty hair bands that I still loved and the heavier metal bands my brother was starting to listen to.
During the summer of 1991 we moved to St. Louis. During that summer, Axl Rose helped incite a riot at Riverport Amphitheater. KSHE 95, St. Louis' iconic rock station, stopped playing Guns n' Roses. Despite that, I still listened. I started listening more. I bought a couple albums. I thought their rhythm guitarist, Izzy Stradlin, was the coolest dude alive.
Guns n' Roses were a big deal. I will argue that for a window of time somewhere between 1988 and 1992, Guns n' Roses were both the most popular musical act in the country and the most culturally important. Very few acts can claim to hold both mantles at the same time. Elvis did it. The Beatles did it. Michael Jackson did it. Garth Brooks probably did it. Kanye West certainly thinks he did it. Maybe Drake did it, but I don't know because I don't listen to new music nearly as much as I used to.
I remember when I first heard "Patience" on Casey Kasem's Top 40 countdown as a long-distance dedication. I was actually surprised that I hadn't heard it when it had first climbed the charts.
"Patience" is the only Guns n' Roses song that made my Top 100. There are other songs of theirs that I thought about including ("Civil War," "Don't Cry," "Welcome to the Jungle"), but ultimately "Patience" just fits closer to the type of song I enjoy most today. If I was making a list of my 100 favorite albums, Appetite for Destruction would definitely be in my top 5.
"Patience" is an all time great ballad. It has everything, acoustic guitars, lyrics that are just vague enough and just specific enough to be relatable, whistling, and a great coda.
However, "Patience" is a terrible karaoke song. One night when I was in college, I joined a few friends for some karaoke. I'm pretty sure I sang "Long Haired Country Boy" by the Charlie Daniels Band because it is super easy and kind of funny. That's not important. What is important is that some guy got up and started singing "Patience." At the start I thought it was cool, and the singer was doing a decent job because the first part of the song is pretty easy.
Everyone in the bar is starting to relax. It's a very chill song. The whole bar was starting to vibe. Then the coda comes. Oh no. Axl goes up an octave for the coda. The singer was not capable of pulling that off. The singer butchers the high notes and his voice cracks. The chill vibe that had been building for the last four minutes is destroyed.
Do not sing "Patience" on karaoke night. Seriously. Maybe 1% of the population can actually sing it well. Some songs are lively and fun, so when the karaoke singer screws it up and can't hit the high notes, no one cares because it just adds to the fun. Everyone is already smiling and upbeat. A song like "Patience" gets everyone introspective and chill. That is not the time to ruin the mood because you have not practiced your falsetto. People forget that Axl Rose was actually an incredibly talented singer. Peak Axl is a top 5 all-time hard rock vocalist. That's a big reason that "Patience" is such a great song.
Right now "Patience" by Guns n' Roses is (probably) my 100th favorite song of all time.
I don't love all music, but the music I like, I love.
A couple of years ago a friend of mine celebrated his 40th birthday by posting his top 100 songs of all time to his Facebook page. I thought this was pretty cool, and I immediately started to think about what songs would end up on my list for my 40th birthday
I went deep. I listened to literally every song in my collection. I scoured Spotify. I listened to other people's lists. I wanted to make sure that I had not missed or forgotten something. I had fun listening to music because listening to music is fun. I did not have nearly as much fun making the list. It is nearly impossible to rank songs. It is also really hard to limit it to just 100. There are about 35 more songs I really wanted to include on the list.
I have not yet completed my 40th trip around the sun, but my list is done. Well, that's a lie. No rational person could possibly say "this is my absolute, definitive list of my 100 favorite songs." Tastes change. New songs are discovered or produced. I will never be totally sure if this list is really my top 100. There are multiple songs that will not be on this list that were at one time in my life my favorite song: "I Got You (I Feel Good)" by James Brown; "Fight for Your Right" by Beastie Boys; "Dead or Alive" by Bon Jovi; "Life Goes On" by Poison; "Highway Chile" by Jimi Hendrix; "Alive" by Pearl Jam, for instance. I still like those songs, but there was a time and a place for them. Tastes do change.
So between now and July 23, 2020, I will be writing about the songs on my list. I do not know whether I will write about each song. I do not know what I will write about each song. I imagine most of these will actually be about me and less about the song itself. I am using this as an opportunity to share with anyone who wants to read, some stories about my favorite music and about my life. Stay for as much as you would like, or come back this summer to see the whole list.
Before I get to the list, here are a few fun facts about the top 100:
All the songs on my list were released between 1963 and 2009. Apparently I have not listened to music for the last 10 years.
Eight songs released in 1970 are on my list making it the most represented year. 35 songs were released in the 1970's making it my favorite decade. Clearly I listen to too much KSHE 95.
45 of the songs were released before I was born.
I will probably cheat and include a 101st song.
Led Zeppelin has three songs on the list. Nine other bands made it on the list twice.
Ten of the songs are covers or songs written entirely by someone other than the recording artist.
Three songs are over ten minutes in length. The longest song on the list clocks in at 11:04. The shortest song on the list is only 1 minute and 25 seconds long. The median song length is 4:23, while the longer songs push the mean length up to 4:42.
One song was originally released on a movie soundtrack.
Only two albums have multiple songs on my list.
Five of the songs are live versions.
Four of the songs were released posthumously.
Nine songs are labeled explicit by Spotify. (I would label a few other songs explicit too, but I guess standards have changed.)
Anyway, let's get this started!
Here is a link to the list (which will be updated with each song as I write about them).
