91. Two Weeks by Grizzly Bear

"Two Weeks" by Grizzly Bear

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
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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.

92. Ozzie Guillen by Serengeti

"Ozzie Guillen" by Serengeti

Written by David Cohen
Produced by Midas Wells
Released on Dennehy (2006)
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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.

93. Something About You by Boston

"Something About You" by Boston

Written by Tom Scholz
Produced by John Boylan and Tom Scholz
Released on Boston (August 25, 1976)
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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.

94. Ride wit Me (feat. City Spud) by Nelly

"Ride wit Me" by Nelly feat. City Spud

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
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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.

95. Slip Slidin' Away by Paul Simon

"Slip Slidin' Away" by Paul Simon

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
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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.

96. Pool Shark (acoustic) by Sublime

"Pool Shark (acoustic)" by Sublime

Written by Bradley Nowell
Produced by Sublime
Released on Robbin' the Hood (February 8, 1994)
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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.

97. Kitty's Back by Bruce Springsteen

"Kitty's Back" by Bruce Springsteen

Written by Bruce Springsteen
Produced by Mike Appel and Jim Cretecos
Released on The Wild, the Innocent & The E Street Shuffle (November 11, 1973)
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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.