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.

98. Breakfast After 10 by Blue October

"Breakfast After 10" by Blue October

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
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"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.

99. Once in a Lifetime by Talking Heads

"Once in a Lifetime" by Talking Heads

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
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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.

100. Patience by Guns n' Roses

"Patience" by Guns n' Roses

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
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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.

What am I doing?

I love music.

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).

My Top 100 Songs