Blogging the Rolling Stone 500: 500-491
Back in November of 2004, Rolling Stone committed a characteristic act of hubris by publishing a list of the so-called “500 Greatest Songs of All Time.” Terrible distortion, of course; the list really doesn’t include a lot of, say Gregorian chants, arias from operas, Himalayan folk tunes from the third century B.C., etc. Really, it’s a list of a bunch of really good, or at least really popular, songs from the rock-and-roll era. The list was generated by a democratic process: 172 musicians, critics, and other professionals in the music industry voted. It would be easy to pick the list apart — so easy that it’s probably not too interesting. And anyway, it’s not such a bad list. Or at least the songs from the list that I recognize at first glance aren’t all that bad. There are a bunch on the list that I don’t recognize, although I almost certainly know them. You do, too. These songs infest our society like the imaginary aphids from William Friedkin’s new film.
So, here’s the project: I’m going to listen to each of the 500 songs on Rolling Stone’s best-ever list. I’ll write a paragraph or two about each song, and post the most interesting, unfamiliar, best, worst, or whatever to the radio blog here. At the end of it all, I’ll actually know the names of all of those oh-that-songs, and we’ll have had a giddy old time kicking around a bunch of the most famous songs of the last 50 years. Sound like a deal?
More Than a Feeling, Boston, 1976. I have long considered this to be one of the most overproduced songs I’ve ever heard. Dig beneath the hand claps, layer upon layer of studio overdubs, vocal harmonies, and basically every other syrupy musical trick in existence during the 1970s. What’s left is a fascinatingly schizophrenic song: a hard-rock guitar anthem married to an adult-contemporary vocal about nostalgia. The vocal is obviously catchy, although I’d perhaps prefer to call it infectious. But the guitar work is surprisingly good. Some people claim that Nirvana stole the central riff in Smells Like Teen Spirit from this song, and Kurt Cobain once sang a piece of this song in the middle of his band’s composition as a way of dramatizing his ambivalence toward Nirvana’s commercial breakthrough. I think the comparison is somewhat exaggerated, but it does point to the really vibrant guitar riffs that Boston poured into this song. The guitar solos are also fun to listen to.
If only I could mute the vocal and strip out the studio overkill. And stop thinking of Beavis and Butthead the whole time.
The Boys Are Back in Town, Thin Lizzie, 1976. I’ve heard this song more times than I know how to count, but I’m not sure I’ve ever listened to it. I have the vague feeling that this song gets played at every sports contest in the western world.
After listening carefully to this for once, rather than treating it as pure sonic wallpaper, I have to say that I like it. I don’t love it; the chorus is repeated a bit too much for my taste, as are the central guitar riffs. But the composition holds together really well. The instrumental work, melody, and lyrics reinforce each other nicely, and I love the vocal performance. Besides, with a moment’s thought, it seems that half the sporting events where I’ve heard this song played were football matches involving the Irish national team. Which earns the song extra points, I guess.
Rainy Night in Georgia, Brook Benton, 1970. Superficially, this song is pure easy listening. But if you listen more closely, you can find a layer of blues guitar, piano, and harmonica that makes Brook Benton’s version of this Tony Joe White song pretty great. And what a vocal! Sure, it’s a melancholy song, but it’s just such a well-crafted recording from start to finish that it’s a happy kind of sad.
The first pass through the song’s chorus, starting at about the 40-second mark, is a good example of what makes this song work so well. The bluesy, but predominantly major-key, vamp of the first verse suddenly builds to a sustained minor chord that seamlessly brings a violin into the song’s instrumental mix for the first time. With the violin and bass holding the song’s harmonic structure together, the path is clear for the entry of Benton’s world-weary voice with the melody, but also for elegant guitar and piano noodling around the margins. Finally, the victory lap: notice Benton’s wonderful, discrete use of melisma as an enhancement to — not replacement for — the melody in the last line of the chorus. And the song keeps this up level of detail and precision for more than three and a half minutes.
Buddy Holly, Weezer, 1994. This has been a much-discussed song here at Kulturblog. Most people seem to think this is a pretty great song, and I have to agree. Even greater is the video directed by Spike Jones.
When this song was on the radio during the 1990s, its pop vocal and overall light tone made it one of the least heavy tracks in rotation on a lot of stations — which were otherwise dominated by Nirvana, Alice in Chains, Hole, Pearl Jam, Candlebox, Stone Temple Pilots, etc. Listening to this song all by itself, I’m surprised by how heavy it actually is. If this came out today, I’d bet that it would have a hard time getting pop-radio airplay. How quickly things change…
Miss You, The Rolling Stones, 1978. Disco! By Mick Jagger! Listen to Charlie Watts go!
This is actually a wonderful song. The vocal hooks kill, the bass line is pure sugar, and the guitar noodling in the background is top-notch. It all holds together, too. Consider the intro to the song. Right up front, the central riff of the track is established by the guitar with the accompaniment of an insistent drum beat and a pulsing — but initially somewhat directionless — bass line. In a second and third iteration, the riff is picked up by a different instrument (harmonica, I think), setting the guitar free to begin adding embellishments around the margins. Meanwhile, the bass line becomes more insistent and acquires a clear disco flavor. This instrumental work builds into an early payoff as Mick Jagger’s vocal comes in for the first verse. Also noteworthy are the wordless, falsetto scat-like vocals that anchor each chorus and become increasingly important as the song progresses.
Unfortunately, this is also really the end of the line for the Stones. Miss You was the band’s last #1 single, and I really don’t think there’s been a single song since with anything like the same quality. So it’s all sort of melancholy in a way that really has nothing to do with the song itself.
Shop Around, Smokey Robinson and the Miracles, 1960. This song is saved by the lead vocal. The melody is fine, and the backing vocals and instrumentals are unobjectionable, but the lyric is just irksome. Not to mention morally dubious: this song clearly encourages serial monogamy or just outright promiscuity. But Robinson’s voice covers over a multitude of sins.
One fun thing about this song is the musical conversation that it started, with a response song coming the following year (Don’t Let Him Shop Around by Debbie Dean) and a rather more romantically-minded sequel from Robinson himself in 1987 (It’s Time To Stop Shopping Around).
Desperado, The Eagles, 1973. I could say a lot of the same things about this that I just said about Smokey Robinson’s Shop Around. The instrumentals here are extremely generic piano-ballad stuff. The lyrics are serious single-guy pandering: you’re all by yourself because you’re macho and tough — there are tons of women just dying to love you, if you just had the time to pay attention to them — not because of, say, bad personal hygiene. Indeed, the lyrics get even worse when you realize that the Eagles were basically talking to themselves: the album Desperado was intended as a concept album about how hard it is to be a cowboy/outlaw/rock star. Even the melody is only okay. But Don Henley’s vocal performance is a thing of wonder.
That brings me to my embarrassing personal connection with this song. I actually had the audacity to use Desperado as an audition piece for some musical-theater role back when I was in high school. Why on Earth would I do such a thing? Nobody’s voice will ever be better served by this song than Henley’s, and the rest of us can only suffer by comparison. I did get the role, but what bad judgment!
I know there are people out there with serious love for Desperado as a great pop composition and not just a performance, and I wish them well.
Then He Kissed Me, The Crystals, 1963. This song has historical importance as the track that cemented producer Phil Spector’s so-called “Wall of Sound” approach to pop record-making in America’s pop-music memory. As a result, it’s one of the few songs in the world that people listen to mainly to admire how neatly its various sonic pieces fit together. There are a lot of musical ideas to like here. The drums are propulsive and fun, and the guitar (I think!) track is nice if a bit repetitious. At the same time, the actual singers — maybe the actual song, as well — are really kind of badly served by the elaborate production values, which become distracting.
A personal connection here, too. When my little brother was an infant, he often smeared his food all over his face rather than eating it — as infants will do. My mom had the habit, when my brother did this, of breaking into a rousing version of Then He Kissed Me.
Running on Empty, Jackson Browne, 1977. This just encapsulates everything about 70s rock, doesn’t it? If you averaged the Rolling Stones, the Who, the Eagles, Big Star, and Carole King, I think the result would sound a lot like this. Of course, if you’re a sucker for 70s country-rock (as I am, to my moderate shame), you’ll probably kind of love this song. In particular, please take a moment to admire the exceptional guitar work throughout. Not to mention the wonderfully contradictory lyrical claims of humility and semi-omniscience:
…Everyone I know, everywhere I go/People need some reason to believe./I don’t know about anyone but me…
False humility, messianic cynicism, steel guitar, and fiddle? Sign me up, I guess.
You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me, Dusty Springfield, 1966. Evidently, this is a translation of an Italian pop hit from about the same time period, Io Che No Vivo Senza Te. This track combines gigantic musical melodrama, a great vocal lead, and a beautiful — and non-distracting; take that, Phil Spector — symphonic-pop orchestration. To get an instant sense of how this song plays the game, check out the bridge between the first chorus and the second verse, starting at about the 1:23 mark. First of all, note that the song is so tautly constructed that it’s really impossible to wedge even a knife blade between the end of the chorus and the beginning of the bridge. From this point, Springfield’s vocal uses two lines to gradually brings us down from the high drama of the chorus. Then, at about the 1:33 mark, the horns sting us with a sharp two-note flourish that launches Springfield into the second verse — a flourish which then has a more subtle three-note echo underneath the first phrases of the vocal. This mix of taut composition and total commitment to musical exaggeration is the song’s signature.
Sure, the whole thing is corny in the extreme, and apparently created by people with no sense of irony whatsoever. That leaves us with two real choices about how to approach the song: with the same unflinching sincerity that seems to have gone into the production, or with a rich sense of the absurd. Actually, either way, this song is a pretty good experience. The one major problem for me is that the whole thing has a bit of a Bond-theme-song feel to it.
Are you out of your mind? I couldn’t even finish reading the top 500 it made me so angry. The fact that Buddy Holly is so far back is enough for me to know their list is crazy.
Comment by jjohnsen — May 31, 2007 @ 7:48 pm
Yeah, of course the list is crazy. I think it’s probably impossible to do a list like this without the result being basically nuts. But — I guess I’d say don’t worry too much about the order. The list does have a bunch of good songs on it. Let’s just pretend it’s in random order and talk about the songs.
Comment by RoastedTomatoes — May 31, 2007 @ 8:29 pm
I think I started going through that list to figure out how many songs I had from it, but maybe I’m thinking of another list.
Boston, Thin Lizzy, Smokey, and Jackson all rule. (JB is one of my all-time favorite artists.) I don’t care much about Weezer, but I was surprised at how fun they were in concert. Who knew they had so many hits? Some of these other songs I haven’t heard.
If you want to hear an interesting version of “Desperado” check out the Langley Schools Music Project.
Comment by Susan M — May 31, 2007 @ 8:48 pm
OK I just looked at the top 10 on the list. Nirvana? Seriously? What a joke.
Comment by Susan M — May 31, 2007 @ 8:49 pm
“Smells like Teen Spirit” belongs in the top 10 because it made rock good again. Nirvana killed 80s hair-metal almost overnight. I’ll always be grateful for that.
Comment by kuri — May 31, 2007 @ 9:05 pm
I usually change the channel if Jackson Brown, the Eagles, or Boston come on the radio.
I like Thin Lizzie. There’s something quintessential about the line “If that chick don’t wanna know, forget her.”
I’d never heard that version of “Rainy Night” before that’s good stuff.
Seems like “Buddy Holly” should rate better than that.
“Some Girls” was the Stones’ last really good album. It would probably be remembered as great if the Stones earlier work wasn’t so monumental. And “Miss You” is great fun to sing along with. “Askin’ people doo-doo-doo what’sa matter witchoo bo-ah?”
Smokey can rescue any song.
Not my favorite Dusty Springfield song. I like “I only want to be with you” and “Son of a preacher man” better.
Comment by kuri — May 31, 2007 @ 9:24 pm
What about Windmills of Your Mind and You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me? Admittedly Son of a Preacher Man is her all time great. But those other two are pretty good. Admittedly Windmills is cheesy as hell and has been covered far better by others - especially in Jazz versions. But I really dig it none the less.
Comment by clark — May 31, 2007 @ 9:55 pm
“Smells Like Teen Spirit” made rock good again for like, a year or two. Then all the Eddie Vedder-wannabes killed it again. (Nickelback, etc)
Comment by Susan M — May 31, 2007 @ 9:57 pm
Susan, I’ll never figure out why you don’t like Nirvana. Too close to the figures to be able to enjoy the music? Heck I didn’t like them at all until a few years after Corbain’s death I finally listened to the unplugged album and got hooked.
Boston really is what I dislike about the 70’s even though it’s not a bad song. But yeah, it’s way over produced.
The Crystals version of Then He Kissed Me is good. I agree that for all the praise Spector got I like the stripped down version of the song by others better. Didn’t the Beach Boys even do a cover? One of those classic songs that tends to transcend any particular version.
Running on Empty is one of Jackson Browne’s better songs. It’s one of those nostalgic songs for me from my early 20’s even though that was in the 90’s. There was a period when classic rock was everything. Reminds me of beer commercials for some reason, especially Canadian beer commercials of the late 80’s and early 90’s. They were all classic rock as well.
Even though ultimately it’s hardly a great song and Browne hardly a great rock star, it really is a kind of quintessential song of that genre.
Boys are Back in Town. What can I say? One of those so-so songs I think of at odd times trying to remember who sang it. For some reason my first impression is always to say Foreigner even though I immediately know it isn’t. Doubly odd is that my second guess is always The Bay City Rollers, who were sort of the N’Sync of the early 70’s. Tells you something about that song.
Comment by clark — May 31, 2007 @ 10:17 pm
Susan, I’m not sure Nickelback and company killed it. I think the boy bands and the Disney girl all-stars killed it. I’ll never understand what happened to music in the late 90’s. It never recovered.
Someone should write a separate thread - what killed music in the 90’s.
Comment by clark — May 31, 2007 @ 10:19 pm
thin lizzy rules, but i prefer jailbreak.
Comment by mike d. — May 31, 2007 @ 10:55 pm
Susan,
But bad rock bands post-Nirvana were still better than bad rock bands pre-Nirvana. I’ll take Nickelback and Stone Temple Pilots over Warrant and Poison any day.
Comment by kuri — May 31, 2007 @ 11:40 pm
Agree about the Thin Lizzy song…the chorus and riff are really catchy and perhaps even anoying, but it’s the verse that really makes the song.
Comment by ed — May 31, 2007 @ 11:50 pm
I’ll take Nickelback and Stone Temple Pilots over Warrant and Poison any day.
I won’t. Haha!
I’ve heard that Lizzy song close to a thousand times and it still has the power to crush me. The melody under the chorus is monumental.
Comment by Brian V — June 1, 2007 @ 4:17 am
Susan’s criticism of Nirvana is well-founded. They don’t have that many albums and for some stupid reason they’ve been elevated to rock’n'roll godhood. Yes, Cobain is interesting - but I have a feeling Nirvana’s hype is driven by lust for money more than common sense. Someone’s got to make sure they sell all those t-shirts.
Comment by danithew — June 1, 2007 @ 5:26 am
This is an interesting project - I did something a little bit similar (though I didn’t blog about it) when Rolling Stone wrote up a post about it’s 100 best guitarists. I made an effort to listen to every song and give each guitarist some attention.
Just a random thought - maybe Susan could tell me something - but Frusciante is a very interesting guitarist. I’ve heard some of his solo instrumental stuff and wish he did a lot more. I’m not a huge fan of Red Hot Chili Peppers - but I’d probably like to take Frusciante’s guitar work and listen to it all by itself.
Comment by danithew — June 1, 2007 @ 6:07 am
You can compare RS’s list with VH1’s list from a few years back. It’s an interesting comparison.
Comment by Tim J — June 1, 2007 @ 7:16 am
Huh. I wouldn’t even take it as a given that “Buddy Holly” belongs in the top 500 songs. (Which is not the same thing as saying that I like all these songs. Far from it.)
Comment by BTD Greg — June 1, 2007 @ 7:32 am
Nirvana are a good band. They’re also the most overrated band in rock history.
I experienced them differently than most people. To me they were an ok band who rode the coattails of phenominal bands like Soundgarden and Mother Love Bone and Mudhoney and Tad. The rest of the world thinks they’re the saviors of rock’n'roll.
Danithew, I have a few Frusciate songs I can send you.
Comment by Susan M — June 1, 2007 @ 8:41 am
I miss Mother Love Bone.
Comment by jjohnsen — June 1, 2007 @ 8:50 am
So that’s how you draw out all the bloggers at KB.
How often are you going to post installments of this series? It seems like long-term commitment.
…and I don’t like Nirvana. I agree with everything Susan has said about that band. The best thing about Nirvana is Dave Grohl, my rock hero.
Comment by cantinflas — June 1, 2007 @ 9:48 am
I think that’s why I can appreciate Nirvana. I wasn’t caught up in the “Grunge” hype since I was going through my classic rock phase at the time. So when I came to it I could appreciate it kind of unmuddled by the politics and so forth.
Comment by Clark — June 1, 2007 @ 11:11 am
I actually liked Nirvana’s direction right before Cobain died—IIRC (and it’s been a while), their MTV Unplugged featured Leadbelly and some other good, classic folk. Outside of that, I liked Nirvana when they came out (and I was a teenager), but I haven’t listened to them in lots of years.
The list isn’t perfect, of course (how James Brown’s first song on the list comes in at 72 I don’t understand), but if we go with RT at comment 2 and pretend it’s a random order—and we assume that by “500 Greatest Songs” RS meant 500 greatest rock-pop songs of the last 50 or so years, ignoring jazz and all the genres we clump together as classical, traditional (as opposed to 60s-revival) folk, bluegrass, etc.—the list doesn’t look half bad. Or at least those parts I’ve skimmed.
Comment by Sam B — June 1, 2007 @ 11:30 am
Okay, I TOTALLY have to agree with Susan about Nirvana. Being in Seattle at teh time, i think everyone was surprised that it wasn’t Soundgarden that broke out in that way. don’t get me wrong, i enjoy Nevermind on occasion (although i really prefer Bleach), but i do think they are the most over rated bands ever (Sheryl Crow is up there in my mind too).
As far as the music dying in the ’90’s, you should all check out the movie “Before the Music Dies”. I loved it!
Comment by Jen — June 1, 2007 @ 12:12 pm
I think The Mountain Goats’ version of The Boys Are Back in Town should replace Thin Lizzy’s.
In fact, I think a Top 500 covers list would be fascinating. I’m sure it’s been done. Anybody?
Comment by Matt B — June 1, 2007 @ 12:34 pm
Here’s a list of 14:
http://www.avclub.com/content/feature/inventory_14_cover_songs_that
Comment by Susan M — June 1, 2007 @ 12:48 pm
Lists are probably a problem, in general. It’s fun to make them but the majority of any list (particularly an extensive list) will collapse under scrutiny.
One of my biggest problems with rock’n'roll lists is that there isn’t an established criteria. I don’t doubt that criteria could be listed - but I think it would be hard to stick to the criteria because there are so many conflicting issues.
For example, how do you weigh the talent of one artist with the talent of another artist who was influenced by the first artist in question? For example, there is no question that the Beatles were greatly influenced by Elvis and by Chuck Berry. Some people might even argue that without an Elvis or a Chuck Berry, there never would have been a Beatles. Does that make Elvis or Chuck Berry automatically superior to the Beatles? I don’t really think so - but the influence can’t be denied.
Another possible criteria - catalog size and quality. Let’s say you have many great albums by a band called Pink Floyd and not so many albums (that are still considered by many to be great albums) by a band named Nirvana. Can you still say that Nirvana is better than Pink Floyd? Why? Is the guitar work by Nirvana better? Are the Nirvana lyrics better? Arguably, not.
I’ve fiddled around on a few occasions with listing criteria that should be considered. But again, as I’ve gone through the exercise, it seems to me that in the end, the whole heap would collapse on itself.
Comment by danithew — June 1, 2007 @ 12:58 pm
Okay, so I can handle Joy Division’s Love Will Tear Us Apart at 179. I’m quite positive that I overrate the band, its work and its influence.
But the fact that Hey Ya! is then 180….
Comment by William Morris — June 1, 2007 @ 1:50 pm
I think The Mountain Goats’ version of The Boys Are Back in Town should replace Thin Lizzy’s.
I’m going to pretend I didn’t see that.
Comment by Brian V — June 1, 2007 @ 5:30 pm
How often are you going to post installments of this series? It seems like long-term commitment.
I’m planning on doing this about once a week, although there are busy times in life, etc. So, yeah, a long-term commitment — the series should take a year to a year and a half to complete.
So, I am indeed out of my mind…
Comment by RoastedTomatoes — June 1, 2007 @ 5:40 pm
I think it’s an awesome idea. You can always get other people to chip in on it too.
Are there any cover versions on the list?
Comment by Susan M — June 1, 2007 @ 5:58 pm
There are plenty of covers in there, Susan. I picked these out just from the Top 100, and I was only skimming so I may’ve missed a few.
Respect, Aretha Franklin
Hound Dog, Elvis Presley
All Along the Watchtower, Jimi Hendrix
Louie Louie, The Kingsmen
Mystery Train, Elvis Presley
Suspicious Minds, Elvis Presley
Comment by Brian V — June 1, 2007 @ 6:24 pm
I don’t understand all the bad Boston vibes. Rockin’ guitars, smooth vocal harmonies, 0 music video presence… I mean, yeah, their recent stuff was poor in comparison. And for them to be #500 on the list with … how many Bob Dylan songs in the list? Bleh. At least they didn’t skimp on the Beatles.
I think this will be an interesting series to read, RT. I picked up the songs via bittorrent recently - it’s quite a listen.
Comment by FHL — June 1, 2007 @ 6:53 pm
Boston has a special place in my heart because they were the centerpiece of the handful of bands that I became interested in when I first discovered Rock music when I was about 12.
I think you’ll find that your musical tastes are, like mine, shaped very much by your location in the archeaology of Rock history and geography. For example those who came of age in the 80’s (God help you) are not likely to be Boston fans, and as has already been said, hanging around Seattle in the heady days of the grunge movement, as I was, cannot but have an effect on you.
Incidentally, there’s a great scene in one of my favorite movies, High Fidelity, that illustrates this:
Dick: I guess it looks as if you’re reorganizing your records. What is this though? Chronological?
Rob: No…
Dick: Not alphabetical…
Rob: Nope…
Dick: What?
Rob: Autobiographical
We should all organize our albums that way.
More Than A Feeling is not the best Boston Song. That title belongs to Long Time, with Hitch A Ride in second place. They should be represented higher than 500 IMO.
Jackson Brown is just plain boring.
On the whole, I found more that I agreed with than disagreed with on the list, but, in keeping with my High Fidelity theme, what would be your top five?
Comment by MCQ — June 2, 2007 @ 2:56 am
Something About You is my favorite Boston song. I’ve had a long relationship with that first album. I loved it, then I hated it, now I love it again. Never got into any of the others.
Comment by Brian V — June 2, 2007 @ 5:43 am
Jackson Browne’s album ‘Running on Empty’ isn’t boring. Very solid stuff.
Comment by danithew — June 2, 2007 @ 9:07 am
I’ve never narrowed down a personal top 5 song list, only a top 3:
Waterboys - Fisherman’s Blues
Van Morrison - Sweet Thing
Nick Drake - Northern Sky
Comment by Susan M — June 2, 2007 @ 9:43 am