Top 100 Best Songs of the 1990s: Part 5 (60-51)

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60. "Safe from Harm" - Massive Attack

One of my favorite genres of the 90s is trip-hop, a beautiful fusion of jazz, ambient, hip-hop and soul music invented by several of the best bands of the decade. And trip hop bands rarely come better than Massive Attack, the band that popularized the genre around the world. While "Angels" and "Unfinished Sympathy" are both more highly regarded tracks, I've opted for "Safe from Harm" for a few reasons. For one, trip-hop distinguishes itself from hip-hop by having mostly original melodies, and "Safe from Harm" has the best melody of any Massive Attack song. Second, it's my personal favorite Massive Attack song. Third, "Safe from Harm" is the first track on Blue Lines, Massive Attack's first album. Thus, "Safe from Harm" was probably many people's first exposure to this entire genre of music. Thus, on the whole, I consider "Safe from Harm" to be the best Massive Attack song.

"Safe from Harm" trickles into the listener's ear with the sound of wind and wind chimes, up until an excellent drum beat and bass line come to the fold. Each instrument gradually layers in, from synthesizers to record scratches, up until guest vocalist Shara Nelson plunges in with a terrific vocal performance. Nelson is quite an underrated singer, likely because her discography doesn't extend much further than her guest work with Massive Attack. That being said, she's the woman who brings "Safe from Harm" and all the other songs on Blue Lines to life. Throughout the song, Nelson takes the role of a vengeful lover or mother. She is willing to tolerate the violent culture of the city, but once that culture threatens those precious to her, she is on the assault. When she declares "But if you hurt what's mine / I'll sure as hell retaliate," it's a knife to the stomach.

What distinguishes trip-hop from straightforward rap and R&B is the strong alternative rock undercurrent. In "Safe from Harm," this rock edge comes in the form of several guitar samples throughout the song. The guitar licks belong to Eddie Hazel, the guitarist for the 70s funk band, Funkadelic; seeing as Eddie Hazel is quite possibly the best guitarist of the 70s, the lick is spectacularly funky. The drum beats come from a song by Billy Cobham, widely regarded to be the best jazz-fusion drummer of all. However, the layering of instrumentation makes all the samples gel into one cohesive unit. Everything, from the dissonant ninths of the verses to the triumphant and menacing chorus, melds together.

Even the rap elements of the song shine. The brief rap interludes from Massive Attack member Daddy G add a nice rhythmic edge to the song. While his performance would come more into play on songs like "Karmacoma," his additions to "Safe from Harm" produce more musical variety into one song. "Safe from Harm" thus anticipates many of the different trip-hop styles that the band puts into display on the whole Blue Lines album.

"Safe from Harm" is a tremendous song from trip-hop's most popular act. That being said, it's very much a silver standard for trip-hop rather than its peak. Trip-hop, due to its wide breadth in combining hip hop, soul, and rock, allowed for a tremendous amount of experimentation. Massive Attack, for the most part, played things fairly safe. Other groups, such as Tricky, DJ Shadow, and Portishead, would take the form and lift it to a higher level through diversifying its sound. We'll take a look at some of their songs later in the list, but "Safe from Harm" still deserves the honor of having inspired all those trip-hop songs that would perfect the form.

59. "Regulate" - Warren G feat. Nate Dogg

A tremendous part of the West Coast rap sound was the genre known as "G-funk," a blend of smooth jazz samples and gangster rap themes. No song sums up this genre so perfectly as Warren G's classic "Regulate." One of the finest story-telling rap songs of the 90s, "Regulate" is the simple tale of two gangsters who fight off some rivals and sleep with some prostitutes. It's far from an ethical tale; Aesop would cringe. Indeed, in most any other rap song, the story of "Regulate" would be almost reprehensible, shamefully endorsing the gangster rap lifestyle. Essentially, "Regulate" is the embodiment of all the trends most hip hop critics hate about today's rap culture. However, the musical and lyrical prowess of "Regulate" makes these criticisms nigh irrelevant. Any song idea, no matter how cliché, can work if executed properly. Not to mention, "Regulate" established many of the clichés that would come to be distorted by Cash Money Records in the late 2000s.

"Regulate" relates its narrative from the perspective of two friends. Warren G gets caught up in a scuffle with some gangsters after they stick him up unfairly, and Nate Dogg comes to his aid. Nate kills all of the enemy gangsters, then he invites Warren G to go sleep with some prostitutes with him. Interestingly enough, one could argue that the story of "Regulate" is actually the story of G-funk itself. G-funk, as a genre, evolved out of raw gangster rap and relatively innocent 80s fusion-jazz soul; thus, the raw gangster quality of the muggers must die while the innocence of Warren G must fall to the carnal pleasures of G-funk. Call it Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained at the same time, if one will.

The best part of "Regulate" is the music. The main sample comes from Michael McDonald's "I Keep Forgettin'," one of the most beloved soul classics of the 80s. The bass adds a threatening quality, using its lowest frequencies to simulate both the bounce of Nate Dogg's car and the footsteps of the muggers. But the best instrument is Nate Dogg's voice. Many have compared Nate Dogg's smooth baritone tones to those of Isaac Hayes - sensuous but mysterious; it's a fair comparison, though I do think Hayes himself could have outshone Nate Dogg. But that's just my musical bias speaking. Regardless, Nate Dogg creeps up the minor scale pitch by pitch, letting the final half step switch accent the nastiest words of his verses.

"Regulate" went on to be one of the all-time biggest singles in Def Jam's history: considering the number of great groups that have come from the label, that's quite the accomplishment. Considering the raw quality of the song, it's hard to deny it the accolades. It's a classic G-funk track that represents everything that everyone likes about the genre.

58. "Mama Said Knock You Out" - LL Cool J

Behold LL Cool J, the most overrated rapper in music history.

Back in 1985, a 16-year-old LL Cool J released Radio to massive critical acclaim. It's still considered one of the best old-school rap albums ever. However, having listened to it, it's clear that rap had a long way to go. Every track on Radio has the same tempo, the same minimalist music, the same cadence, and the same flow. Plus, there are several dozen really bad rhymes, what with LL Cool J calling himself better than Shakespeare and discussing the ethics of lying to King Tut. The follow-up album, Bigger and Deffer, isn't much better, although the beats are somewhat more entertaining. Bigger and Deffer also gave the world "I Need Love" - a hip hop song, while not bad in and of itself, that introduced the malignant "thugs need love, too" genre unto the world. "I Need Love" is probably one of ten good songs in the entire genre of "thugs need love, too" songs, and it's the only truly innovative track LL Cool J ever released. LL Cool J is still considered one of the greatest em cees ever, but it's only because he came out at a time when there weren't future titans like Rakim and Chuck D to blow him out of the water. Looking over his entire career, only one song actually holds up to this day.

But what a song "Mama Said Knock You Out" is.

"Don't call it a comeback" might just be the most legendary opening lyric of any rap song. After dropping off after his third album, Walking with a Panther, LL Cool J came back with a vengeance. "Mama Said Knock You Out," inspired by a few choice words from LL Cool J's actual grandmother, is a response to critics who disliked the previous record. When people call this song a "comeback" (which, to be honest, it really is), LL Cool J responds that he never actually dropped off in the first place. Let's be clear: while LL Cool J's albums are over-hyped, they're not really that bad either. Not to mention, they sold decently, even Walking with a Panther. Thus, LL Cool J takes the critics to task for being overly harsh on a rapper who never actually dipped too much in quality, at least in a relative sense.

Manipulating internal rhyme, enjambment, puns, metaphors, and allusions, "Mama Said Knock You Out" is LL Cool J's most articulate track. My favorite line is probably "And when I pull out my jammy get ready cause it might go/BLAAW! How you like me now!" This particular line was written in response to a diss track from fellow rapper Kool Moe Dee, called "How Ya Like Me Now." LL Cool J flips the sentiment around, as if to say "Hey Kool, continue your beef with me, and you might end up dead! How you like them apples!" It's brash and arrogant, but it's the perfect sentiment for a track about beating one's enemies into submission.

"Mama Said Knock You Out" also distinguishes itself from the rest of LL Cool J's career by having his single most intense flow and cadence. While LL Cool J is not a very versatile rapper, he's certainly an effective one. On "Mama Said Knock You Out," he finally embraces the off-beat and rests that he strayed away from using in his first few LPs. Such syncopation and variety makes the flow more engaging to the listener, and it's great to hear a rapper of LL Cool J's intensity tearing up the track. In the final chorus, his voice practically cracks with rage, the final exertion of a rapper who's just laid down a legendary track.

The beat is great, too. One can't go wrong with the drum beat from James Brown's "Funky Drummer," the single most commonly sampled beat of all time. The multiple record scratches feel like a flurry of punches to the listener's face. The backing choir from Sly and the Family Stone adds an ominous chill, their riff wailing throughout the track as if spectral in origin. However, the key to it all is a sample from the Chicago Gangsters' "Gangster Boogie." It's an extremely light-hearted sample that's somewhat dissonant with the rest of the track, but the sheer joy of the singing makes the whole song danceable. Not only is LL Cool J going to crush his critics, but he's also going to bounce around the ring while doing it.

"Mama Said Knock You Out," in my opinion, earns LL Cool J at least some place in the rap hall of legends. While his earlier material is monotonous and dated, "Mama Said Knock You Out" sounds as fresh now as it did in 1990. While some of its lyrics have become cliché by now, it's the song that invented the clichés in the first place. "Mama Said Knock You Out" is one of the premier brag raps of the 90s, and it raised the bar for all subsequent rappers. Indeed, only a few rappers on this list managed to top it.

57. "Nothing Compares 2 U" - Sinéad O'Connor

I think there's a law preventing people from disliking "Nothing Compares 2 U." I haven't seen a single list of the best songs of the 90s that doesn't include it somewhere. Its placement is usually a matter of politics and musical bias, but it's always there. Being perfectly honest, I don't completely understand why, even though it's on my own. Many, including musicologist Adam Brent Houghtaling, have called it one of the saddest pop songs of all time, but there's nothing sadder here than that which is on, say Harry Nilsson's "Without You," Elton John's "Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word," or even a few pop songs we'll see later on this list. It's just a break-up song - a very finely crafted break-up song.

As most readers know, "Nothing Compares 2 U" is not an original song. The original writer was Prince, who penned "Nothing Compares 2 U" for a side-project of his called The Family. The track is fairly forgettable in its original form, mostly because it's not very good. Prince added several unneeded harmonies to the track, the melody is somewhat lacking, and the synthesizers have too much saw applied to actually sound good. Given what Prince was doing at the time, the low quality of the original track makes sense: Prince had just finished his Around the World in a Day album and was about to start sessions for the even bigger Parade. It's clear that "Nothing Compares 2 U" was an afterthought in Prince's otherwise extraordinary 80s career. Thus, it makes sense that the carefully conceived and executed Sinéad O'Connor cover is more beloved.

Every element of "Nothing Compares 2 U" is explicitly planned. The song has a tremendous sense of build, with everything from the vocals, to the drums, to the backing choir gradually filling into the track. In a sense, "Nothing Compares 2 U" channels the spirit of a far superior Prince song, "Purple Rain" - itself a masterpiece of crescendo and emotional pay-off. One of my favorite touches is the doubled vocal from O'Connor herself. While I don't find the delivery overly sad in and of itself, the doubled voices makes it seem as if O'Connor is singing in a tunnel, offering an illusion of distance and separation. Furthermore, the viola is given more emphasis in the arrangement than the violin; given the increased sonority of the lower string instrument, the tone sounds much richer. Also, despite the large number of instruments in the track - the vocals, the choirs, the strings, the drum machines, the piano - "Nothing Compares 2 U" sounds remarkably sparse. Songs like "Nothing Compares 2 U" often become top-heavy and overblown, but the actual song avoids most of the traps associated with songs of its genre.

Though Prince might not have crafted the music of "Nothing Compares 2 U" with much care, he definitely did a good job with the lyrics. "Nothing Compares 2 U" is all about relation - the key word is compares, not "U." Sinéad O'Connor, after losing her lover, finds the greatest amount of pain in her inability to view any experience except in relation to her former loved one. Everything loses meaning, from dating to daily routines. She is thus consigned to her despair, ceaselessly mourning for someone who will never return. She even asks for a return to the relationship, being "willing to give it another try," even though the lover was the one who took the love away in the first place. There's no happy ending on the horizon here.

"Nothing Compares 2 U" is rightfully regarded as a classic 90s pop song. Is it the best pop song of the period? I say no. Is it the best break-up song of the period? As we'll see later, I say no to that as well. However, it undoubtedly left a profound emotional impact on the listeners of the time. Its video is still one of the most respected in MTV history. And, of course, one cannot forget that everyone loves this song. And I love it too: just not as much as everyone else.

 56. "Venus as a Boy" - Björk

Of all the artists of the 90s, Björk is probably the hardest to discuss. Say so much as one negative thing about Björk in certain indie circles, and one will be crucified for criticizing the greatest avant-garde artiste of our generation. Say so much as one positive thing about Björk in certain classical circles, and one will be crucified for praising a woman who has inspired more damage to human vocal chords than any other. Say so much as anything about Björk to the average layperson, and you'll get a response of "that weird Icelandic chick who wore a giant swan?" Her music is challenging but often rewarding, grating but oddly beautiful. She clearly has no regard for proper vocal technique, but she has her own twisted approach to singing. What one can't deny, though, is her skill in arranging; she and her producers have crafted some truly extraordinary musical works. It was a tough call between "Venus as a Boy" and "All Is Full of Love," but while the latter is more beautiful and, dare I say it, more transcendent, "Venus as a Boy" is a bit more challenging, intellectually interesting, and more... Björky.

Upon release, "Venus as a Boy" became one of Björk's least beloved songs with the critics. I presume they were too won over by the rich, tribal beats of "Human Behavior" and the dance vibe of "Big Time Sensuality" to pay close enough attention to just how good "Venus as a Boy" is. Of all the tracks on Debut, it is certainly the most alien-sounding, using the sounds of the tablas and the vibraphone to create an otherworldly experience. There are clear Indian influences in the piece, particularly the sitar plucks at the end of each chorus. The vibraphone pulse that persists throughout the introduction and the verses is composed of two tones a whole step away; since there are only two pitches, they don't form a complete chord, but the step between them produces an alarming dissonance that pulls in the listener. It's certainly a jarring work of composition and instrumentation, but the musical elements ultimately manage to enhance the song's message.

"Venus as a Boy," like many other Björk songs, has very few actual lyrics aside from Björk's bizarre wailings. That being said, the lyrics here manage to produce a small but important message. "Venus as a Boy," as I see it, is an ode to female access to the carnal pleasures of lust. After the rise of Judeo-Christian morality, it became incredibly difficult for women to express sexuality without being censured (one can argue that this is still the case). But that inherent sexism was still in place in ancient Rome with men having access to carnal pleasure in the form of the female Venus, whereas heterosexual women lacked that same divine sanction of love. "Venus as a Boy" flips this, with the woman finally able to access the joys of access to the carnal with a male Venus. (Granted, this all assumes heteronormativity in sexual relationships, but that's a whole different topic; not every song can discuss the full range of gender political subjects.) Additionally, according to Björk herself, "Venus as a Boy" is equally about finding the beauty in everyday life, the beauty of brushing one's teeth in the morning, of a lovely autumn afternoon. When Venus "believes in beauty," he doesn't just believe in the beauty of the body; he believes in the beauty of the universe.

Of course, one cannot discuss a Björk song without discussing her singing voice. As a classically trained baritone, I do have some difficulty listening to Björk without wincing; her technique ranks right up with that of Yoko Ono in terms of heedless abandon and lack of control. However, I cannot call her singing as bad as Yoko's in any way. As I see it, Björk tries to test just what the human voice can do. If she were a guitarist, she'd be Jimi Hendrix, testing just how many ways she could play the instrument, as opposed to Andrés Segovia, who learned how to master classical guitar better than everybody else. Her vocal on "Venus as a Boy" is very much one of sexual ecstasy, with her screams evoking the spirit of an orgasm. This is not uncommon for Björk; the entire Vespertine album is essentially composed of the same sexual screams. However, "Venus as a Boy" was the first song in which Björk expressed her skill at expressing her sexual autonomy through singing. Thus, I'd give it the nod over anything else on that album.

Though not beloved in its day, "Venus as a Boy" has aged the best of all the songs on Debut. I vastly prefer it to anything on Post. Indeed, the only Björk song of the 90s I feel that challenges it is "All Is Full of Love," which deserves a few dozen listens (not to mention, it has one of the best music videos ever). Nonetheless, "Venus as a Boy" has the advantage of preceding most of Björk's other songs. It's sexual, alien, bizarrely beautiful - it's the perfect summation of Björk's 90s oeuvre. It's a challenge that continues to reward the listener.

55. "Animal Nitrate" - Suede

As good as Blur is, my favorite Britpop band is Suede. They're the second group to have two songs on the list, both from Suede's spectacular eponymous debut. "Animal Nitrate" is usually considered Suede's greatest and most popular song; while I'd argue that the former name is incorrect, the latter certainly is true. "Animal Nitrate" is nearly always the song that tops professional lists of the top ten Suede songs and that serves as Suede's representative track on top ten lists of the best Britpop songs. After all, it's the most beautiful song about dirty sex in British story.

"Animal Nitrate" begins with the greatest guitar riff in all of Britpop: Bernard Butler combines echo effects with a syncopated rhythm to produce a beautifully dark introduction. The heavy amount of distortion produces the effect of adding sevenths though the strummed chords themselves are simple triads. Thus, the entire introduction feels incomplete and sustained, as if an unfulfilled sexual desire lingering before the verse comes to satisfy it. It is quite difficult to hear Butler's stabbing strums throughout the verses as anything more than pelvic thrusts once one listens to the lyrics. Additionally, his bending the guitar strings throughout the chorus produces some melodic scoops that only further the raunchy nature of the tune.

Brett Anderson complements Butler's guitar at every turn. His gasping vocal practically swallows the words: indeed, his diction often muddles the specific terms of the lyrics. That being said, the general sentiment is not lost on the listener: Anderson's performance is very much sentiment over substance. The doubled vocals are a splendid touch, creating an auditory tunnel of sorts, boosting Anderson's light tenor into a clean channel. Normally, singers with weaker voices like Anderson wouldn't be able to sing over Butler's dominating guitar, but the studio manages to enhance Anderson's voice. While some might call this cheating, it certainly works in context. The hedonism of "Animal Nitrate" is one that overwhelms the senses; thus, each part of the track must work to produce the same washing effect upon the listener. To make that happen, the studio needs to enhance Anderson's voice. Thus, while I normally have disdain for artists who use studio tricks to compensate for lack of talent, I think I can give Suede a pass here.

Given how sexual the musical elements of the song are, one would expect the lyrics of "Animal Nitrate" to be similarly themed. While such an assumption is correct, the tone of "Animal Nitrate" is actually far less personal than one would expect. The band sings about a girl who is sexually and emotionally dependent on a man whose sexual exploits are nearly always drug-fueled and violent. Once the singer comes to have feelings for the girl, he realizes that he will always seem inferior to the extremely passionate (yet extremely unhealthy) sexual partner she had in her past. Perhaps the hazy atmosphere of the song is indicative of the narrator taking heavy drugs for the first time, so to gain some of the violent tendencies of his desire's previous lover.

That being said, "Animal Nitrate"'s creation and execution were just as drug-fueled as the subject matter. In the early years, Suede was extremely dependent on drugs to fuel their creativity. Suede found it difficult to channel the energy they had on stage into the music studio and - even more importantly - the music video studio. Thus, many of the music videos for their first few singles were made while the band was high. As a result, some of the imagery used - particularly some of the earliest instances of homosexual content in music video history - in the "Animal Nitrate" video ruffled some English feathers. Fortunately for British music, "Animal Nitrate" managed to endure in spite of the controversy, and the song itself has aged incredibly well. It's the "Purple Haze" of the 1990s.

54. "The Velvet Rope" - Janet Jackson

I like Janet Jackson more than Michael Jackson. Sue me.

In my view, Janet Jackson had all of the best elements of Michael Jackson while avoiding all of his downsides. Sure, she's never had a song as good as "Billie Jean" or "Beat It," but the number of solo pop stars who have had songs that good can be counted on one hand. More importantly, Janet Jackson is more consistently good, with not a single one of her hits being a dud, while Michael has had several ("The Girl Is Mine," "I Just Can't Stop Loving You"). She's had more high quality albums than Michael, with four unimpeachable records as compared to Michael's three. The last of these albums, 1997's The Velvet Rope, is as good an album as Thriller. And its title track is a powerhouse of introspective pop music the likes of which Michael Jackson wouldn't dare to tackle.

At its core, "The Velvet Rope" is about finding love and passion within a world built from oppression. Love serves as an escape, but the nature of the escape is somewhat uncertain. Is love a means of absolving oneself from the menaces of the world, a purifying of the spirit from the harms of oppression, or it merely a mask, hiding the pain underneath? The rest of the album discusses each of these possibilities in more detail, but "The Velvet Rope" suggests all the themes at once. Indeed, this is the central purpose of the symbol of the velvet rope. These ropes usually bar off the public from gaining access to the minds of pop stars, but Janet lets them down, so the public might see her pain, the pain of a world of constant demands and expectations. The hope is that someone might be able to see beyond the velvet sheen and appreciate that which is within. However, in a world as plastic as the United States in the late 1990s, such a hope is distant at best.

The element of "The Velvet Rope" that draws me most is the dissonance between the music and the lyrics. Overall, the general sentiment of the specific words of "The Velvet Rope" is hopeful: "Outside leave judgment/outside leave hate/one love's the answer/you'll find in you." However, the music illustrates the chaotic atmosphere both within and without. A cryptic piano line permeates the entire track, while funeral bells chime intermittently throughout the song. While Janet Jackson's voice beckons the listener in, the record scratches and drum machine strikes force him or her out, as if serving as the natural emotional barriers between two people. A haunting guitar line drifts in the background, while strings gradually lift the listener up. The world very much becomes a blur, in which Janet Jackson's voice is the only source of clarity.

Perhaps my favorite part of the entire song is the electric violin solo from British pop star Vanessa-Mae. A classically trained child prodigy, Vanessa-Mae is a violinist mired in controversy for both allegedly cheating in an alpine ski race as well as playing some solos for the human-rights abusing Chechnyan leader Ramzan Kadyrov at a gala. Though one might question her ethics, one cannot question her skills with the electric violin. Towards the end of the song, Vanessa-Mae pulls off a series of rapid runs that stun the listener, harnessing the full power of chaos into her instrument. The howl of the violin strings is the last sound one can hear on the track, and it's a fitting pitch to echo the pain of an injured world.

"The Velvet Rope" is an excellent start to an excellent album, one of my ten favorites of the entire decade. It's a diverse listen touching on a variety of controversial themes while incorporating several different genres of pop music. I'd even say it's the most daring album to come from any of the Jackson family members, if not the best album the family has ever made. It was difficult to choose any one song, what with "Got 'Til It's Gone" and "I Get Lonely" both making strong runs for the list. That being said, "The Velvet Rope" seems to encapsulate all the themes and struggles of the other tracks and harnesses them into a unified piece of music. It's intelligent pop music at its finest; why Janet didn't release it as a single is beyond me.

53. "This Is Hardcore" - Pulp 

I was torn as to whether or not to include Pulp's iconic "Common People," a song many publications consider to be the finest song of the 90s and the greatest piece of music to come from the Britpop scene. It is a great song, however, I find its "cathartic" accelerando to be somewhat contrived and simplistic. Additionally, its storytelling isn't particularly profound; it's essentially Billy Joel's "Uptown Girl" with more direct lyrics. Thus, I decided to put a different Pulp song on the list: the ever-controversial "This Is Hardcore." Many a band has written of its struggles to deal with the demands of the public, but few come as biting and cynical as this one.

At its core, "This Is Hardcore" is Pulp's response to the massive success of their disco-pop opus, Different Class. The public adored Different Class; the album went 4x platinum in 1996, being one of the most popular and enduring albums of the Britpop movement. That being said, the stress of following up this album and building on its momentum was tremendous; the strain of commercialism was not something of which Pulp frontman and lead singer, Jarvis Cocker, was particularly fond. Thus, with "This Is Hardcore," he likened the state of Pulp and the public to pornography. However, rather than merely insult the public, Cocker notes the tender balance between the band and the public. Though the public might demand more product, Pulp certainly enjoyed the money. Thus, when Cocker declares, "I wanna make a movie so let's star in it together," he opens up the dual complicity in the pornographic act. Sure, the actors make the movie, but they only make it because they'll earn money for it.

Musically, "This Is Hardcore" evokes the aesthetic of a James Bond picture, with languid trumpet pulses forming the song's musical backbone. The closed-fret guitar strokes are especially effective in creating an ominous atmosphere, allowing the simplistic melodies of the piano and the trumpets to ring over a tumultuous backing. The lower brass drives the song at its most tremendous points in the pre-chorus, with strings entering with several staccato notes to create miniature climaxes. The entire piece builds up to a massive final chorus, in which guitars, synthesizers, brass, strings, and strums all come together in a tremendous 4/4 throb.

Critically, "This Is Hardcore" has gotten more praise with age. Initially, there was quite a bit of backlash against the record, mostly due to the album cover depicting a woman in a sexually submissive position. Graffiti claiming "This Is Offensive" became common on English billboards advertising the album. Furthermore, some didn't like Pulp's shift from their disco-pop leanings to a more grim, mature sound. As I see it though, "This Is Hardcore" is the song in which Pulp shifted into high gear, the song in which they fully demonstrated their potential. It's a great song from one of the greatest Britpop bands.

52. "Torn" - Natalie Imbruglia

I often have asked my elders about those music stars who should have had bigger careers than they actually did. Often, they respond with artists who died before their time - figures like Jim Croce and Harry Chapin. Others point to Tracy Chapman and Roberta Flack, artists known for some spectacular singles but lackluster albums. However, there's one songwriter whose lack of continued success still manages to baffle me: Natalie Imbruglia. Here's an artist who had everything: a unique trip-hop inspired sound, a major record label behind her, a competent voice, not to mention the fact that she's drop dead gorgeous. And then there's "Torn," one of the best pop singles of the 90s.

Most people don't realize that "Torn" is a cover of a song by a band named Edna Swap. The original is a fairly generic 90s alt rock song; however, it has significant melodic deficiencies. It's extremely heavy-handed, being overly slow and tedious. The Natalie Imbruglia version takes a different approach, increasing the tempo and brightening the tone. It's also far more produced, incorporating synthesizers and drum machines as opposed to the bare bones accompaniment of the original. While such production would normally come to a song's detriment, it is more than effective the case of "Torn." If anything, the original "Torn" takes itself too seriously, carrying itself as if it were the most important break-up song in music history. That's clearly not the case: lyrically, "Torn" is no "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry" or "Don't Think Twice - It's All Right."

Much like the classic Shangri-La's hit, "Past, Present, and Future," "Torn" concerns itself not with a break-up itself, but rather the residue of that break-up. The narrator, emotionally drained from a previous break-up, is unwilling to start up a relationship with someone new: "you're a little late/I'm already torn." The song's main lyrical strength, though, is its imagery: "there's nothing where he used to lie/my inspiration has run dry" being my personal favorite. Just the thought of the empty bed is enough to tell a tremendous story. "Torn" also manages to make a relatively verbose chorus catchy: what other pop song could sell the line "I'm cold and I am shamed/lying naked on the floor" as a sing-along?

The musical elements of Imbruglia's "Torn" are even better than the lyrics. I love the guitar tone throughout the track; the blend of acoustic strums and electric arpeggios produces a unified sound. I'm also quite fond of the dominant 7th added to the IV chord of the main progression - the seventh creates a hesitancy within the song structure, highlighting the vocalist's agony when considering a new romance. Natalie Imbruglia herself gives a very emotional performance. Some might dislike her somewhat twee voice, but she's practically crying through the song. When she futilely declares, "that's what's going on" towards the outro of the song, it's a punch to the gut. That's not to mention the beautiful guitar solo at the end, with its achingly beautiful glissandos and crystal pure tone.

With songs as subtle and poignant as "Torn," it's a wonder that Natalie Imbruglia hasn't had a bigger career than she actually has had. While she's never fallen far from popular and critical grace, she's never had a song of the same scale as "Torn" on the pop charts. If anything, I guess Natalie Imbruglia is a bit too experimental for mainstream pop fans and is a bit too mainstream for indie fans. Her debut, Left of the Middle, is very much a trip-hop album, but not of the same production scale as Massive Attack's Blue Lines, Protection, or Mezzanine. Thus, it was hard for her to find a niche. As I see it though, she's one of the most unfairly overlooked pop musicians of the 90s. Indeed, if the chorus of "Torn" didn't use a standard I - V - vi - IV chord progression, it would be even higher on the list. It's a standard-bearer for great 90s pop.

51. "Bullet with Butterfly Wings" - The Smashing Pumpkins

The Smashing Pumpkins: perhaps the most quintessential alternative rock band of the 1990s. While not as popular as Nirvana or as indie-beloved as Pavement, the Smashing Pumpkins were the most versatile alternative rock band of the entire decade. Able to transition from classically-inspired pieces like "Tonight, Tonight" to the grunge of "Today" to the techno-pop inspired "1979," the Smashing Pumpkins easily became every alternative rock fan's favorite band. That being said, I've always found the Pumpkins' songs somewhat difficult to enjoy. The problem: the voice of Billy Corgan, the Smashing Pumpkins' lead singer. Most of the Smashing Pumpkins' most respected songs are those on which he tries to sound beautiful, but his voice, to my ears, is only ever so slightly more pleasant than that of a bleating goat. Thus, I find any "beautiful" song with his voice behind it inherently unconvincing. There's only one context in which I can wholly endorse Billy Corgan's singing: hard rock. As if to answer my prayers, "Bullet with Butterfly Wings" exists. And it is amazing.

There are plenty of "hard" Smashing Pumpkins' songs, with "Cherub Rock" being the most renowned and beloved. However, "Bullet with Butterfly Wings" hits louder and harder. Granted, the lyrics are almost embarrassingly bad (seriously, "despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage?" Who wrote this: a freshman boy who got rejected for homecoming?), but the music rises above the subject matter. "Bullet with Butterfly Wings" is the purest expression of musical anger in the entire 1990s. Considering this is the decade that gave us Kelis's "Caught Out There," Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit," and the Rollins Band's "Liar," that's making quite a statement. Yet Corgan's fury isn't Achillean, bursting out at the slightest provocation; rather, it foments before bubbling into a head-bang inducing chorus.

The key to "Bullet with Butterfly Wings"'s success is the rhythm section. The bass line provides a steady and threatening undertone, while the bass drum provides a steady heartbeat. The off-beat timpani strikes, however, indicate Corgan's emotional imbalance. The snares flash in the pre-chorus, as if taunting memories of emotional abusing popping into focus. All the while, the guitar provides a quaint ambience, letting the rhythm section pop. Come the chorus, and all the instruments spring to life: there's even one of the most memorable drum breaks of the entire decade.

"Bullet with Butterfly Wings" is taunting, snide, and straightforward. On paper, it's very much a standard rock song. But, in execution, it's quite possibly the most cathartic release of the 1990s. Few words can put to justice exactly what effect the song has. In my mind, it's the only song in the Smashing Pumpkins' catalogue that plays to all of the members' strengths. Although it's a relatively simple piece, its sheer effectiveness warrants its relatively high position. Indeed, if the lyrics were stronger, it would have taken an even higher spot. As it is though, it's one of the best alternative hard rock songs ever written.

Top 100 Best Songs of the 1990s: Part 4 (70-61)

Here it is, now; let it entertain you!

70. "Song 2" - Blur

I genuinely hate putting "Song 2" as the only Blur song on this list, as it is the song least indicative of their overall style and place in the Britpop canon. It's not Blur's best song ("The Universal" or "For Tomorrow"), the most culturally transformative ("Girls and Boys") or even my favorite Blur song ("This Is a Low"). However, I must ask myself what Blur song had the largest impact on the soundscape of the 90s. While "Girls and Boys" might have been one of the defining songs of Britpop for the British charts, "Song 2" was the song that announced the power of British pop wit to the rest of the world. Blur's biggest international hit, "Song 2" is the greatest satire of grunge of the 90s and the greatest piece of musical satire the decade had to offer.

As wonderful a genre as grunge is (as I shall elaborate upon later in the list), its sheer omnipresence throughout the 90s was undoubtedly tiring. Even worse, the genre, as with most others, became chock-full of posers emulating the dark sounds of grunge while understanding nothing of the genre's themes or origins. Some of the weaker late grunge groups - Bush, Puddle of Mudd, and the Exies, to name a few - would go on to pioneer the musical wasteland that is post-grunge: the most musically stagnant genre in contemporary music history. We would not have had the horrors Nickelback, Creed, or 3 Doors Down without the faux-grunge bands of the late 90s. Thus, it fell to Blur, a Britpop band not associated with grunge in any way, to utterly belittle the stagnancy of American rock in "Song 2," a song in which all of false grunge is distilled into two syllables: "woo hoo."

What's great about "Song 2" is the depth of Blur's understanding of grunge. Consider the opening guitar riff, a clear parody of Nirvana's overplayed "Smells Like Teen Spirit." The reason "Smells Like Teen Spirit" resonates with so many is not the lyrics, the general aesthetic, or the music itself. Rather, it's the sense of urgency that emerges when Cobain shifts from a clean guitar tone to a distorted one. "Song 2" not only captures this sense of urgency better, what with its alteration between on-beat strums and syncopated strums, but it goes even further. Graham Coxon's main guitar line keeps a steady overtone of Ab, a tone that's somewhat grating on the ear due to its constant repetition and occasional dissonance with the rest of the chords. Yet the pitch ultimately centers the listener's attention, revealing just how monotonous grunge at its worst can be. All the while, the lyrics are utterly inconsequential, making slight nods to the "never mind" attitude that permeated grunge through the incorporation of small talk: "pleased to meet 'cha" et. al.

But, in spite of this biting criticism, "Song 2" manages to retain a level of extreme fun absent from most grunge. The percussion line effectively uses every drum on the kit during the verses before transitioning into a full-blown Keith Moon inspired blowout in the chorus. The snidely vocals of Damon Albarn are oddly seductive, in spite of their crudeness; in essence, Albarn invented and perfected Ke$ha's schtick before she even started to ruin music in the 2010s. The tempo is perfect for head banging, and one can't come up with a more delightfully stupid chorus than "woo hoo!"

While it's to Blur's disadvantage that "Song 2" has managed to overshadow the rest of their excellent catalogue in the popular conscience, "Song 2" is a spectacular song in its own right. Blur remembers when rock and roll could be all fun and games while reminding audiences just what they liked about the grunge aesthetic. "Song 2" is the perfect marriage of musical tone and lyrical tone to produce one of the most liberating songs of the decade. A standout track from a standout band.

69. "Under the Bridge" - Red Hot Chili Peppers

Red Hot Chili Peppers: you love 'em or you hate 'em. Unless you happen to be me, who honestly doesn't care about this band enough to either love them or hate them. Let's look at the bad. I think the Red Hot Chili Peppers' "influence" and "uniqueness" is practically non-existent, namely because Mother's Finest and Gang of Four beat them to the funk-rock punch and Faith No More wrote a better funk-rap song than the Red Hot Chili Peppers ever did with 1989's "Epic." I think Anthony Kiedis is a mediocre lyricist and an even worse singer. None of their albums are particularly cohesive or compelling, and their over-sexed image far overstates the appeal of their actual music. Now, the good. Flea is one of the best bassists rock has ever seen. John Frusciante is an incredibly underrated guitarist and musician. While no single one of the Red Hot Chili Peppers' songs is the best funk rock has to offer, as a whole, they offer a more consistently good output than most of their contemporaries.   And "Under the Bridge" is one of the best songs of the 90s.

Yes, "Under the Bridge" is an overplayed staple of alternative rock radio. Yes, "Under the Bridge" contains the grammatically inept lyric: "And she kisses me windy." However, what "Under the Bridge" lacks in raw poetry, it makes up for in pure pathos. Prior to "Under the Bridge," the Red Hot Chili Peppers showed hardly any songwriting or emotional range. Most of their songs were about sex and nothing more. "Under the Bridge," however, tells a very different story. At first glance, "Under the Bridge" seems to be a simple ode to the narrator's home of Los Angeles, the city that is able to speak to him when he is without human companionship. However, this narrative soon spins on its head when the chorus kicks in, revealing that, for all his love of the city, the narrator is "under the bridge" shooting up heroin. The only comfort his city truly provides is chemical dependency.

The entire song hinges on the success of this volta, and the musical elements line up accordingly. John Frusciante's fantastic guitar grounds the entire song, using a mix of single picking and broad strums to create a very natural melodic line. Though simple to play on paper, the guitar part belies the complexity of Frusciante's tone; so much as the slightest bend of the strings can distort the sound beyond recognition. As the lyrics turn, however, Frusciante boosts the distortion and infuses a dash of psychedelia to enhance the "druggy" aesthetic. Chad Smith's drumming gets all the more vicious, resounding with crashing timpanis, all while Flea's threatening bass looms in the back. A heavenly choir emerges, as if judging the hapless narrator for his foolishness. The entire song supports the lyrics.

"Under the Bridge" combines intense musicality - Frusciante's guitar being the standout instrument - with a compelling story to produce one of the finest alternative rock songs of the decade. Being such a radical departure from the Red Hot Chili Peppers' signature sound, it's no wonder critics and rock fans alike gave it so much attention. No other rock band has made the transition to rock ballads this effortless; indeed, when Faith No More did so, they wrote ballads in a wholly mocking tone. Red Hot Chili Peppers simply let the music take them where they needed to go, and they became rock superstars. While none of their follow-ups ever came close to the brilliance of "Under the Bridge," the original hit remains a standout of 90s alt rock radio. It's a classic for a reason.

68. "My Lovin' (You're Never Gonna Get It)" - En Vogue

Songs about revenge fantasies are always interesting; they end up revealing quite a bit more about the performer than the target of the performer's anger. Near inevitably, the target was a cheater, a liar, or something else of a stereotypical nature. The singer, however, can often end up looking deranged in his/her response. Lily Allen's "Smile" has a clearly sadistic narrator, while Carrie Underwood's "Before He Cheats" has a narrator who is outright psychotic. But I think my favorite revenge fantasy song is En Vogue's "My Lovin' (You're Never Gonna Get It)" - in which a girl gathers all of her best friends and tells off her man to his face in public. New jack swing never sounded so cold.

En Vogue is one of the best studio-created groups of the 90s. Formed essentially by committee, En Vogue was an attempt by Denzil Foster and Thomas McElroy - two then-popular producers who have since fallen out of critical favor - to recapture the magic of the Phil Spector-produced girl groups of the 1960s. Unfortunately, the image of En Vogue was alarmingly sexist, what with the girls being chosen for looks as well as singing ability; the 90s were unable to move past the moral quandaries of the 60s. However, En Vogue's musical skill is undeniable. The vocals on all their songs click, and nowhere do they sound better than on "My Lovin' (You're Never Gonna Get It)." Dawn Robinson in particular shows off an impressive range, using her mezzo range to put any naysayers of En Vogue's aesthetic to shame. The harmonies are crisp and trim, using the minor third to simultaneously add sexual allure and biting cynicism.

More impressive still is the implicit story in "My Lovin' (You're Never Gonna Get It)." Lead singer Maxine Jones relates a narrative similar to Gloria Gaynor's "I Will Survive," recalling how her man disgraced her and then came crawling back. Then, in the middle of the verse, Dawn Robinson, playing the role of the concerned best friend, roars in with aggressive insults directed at the man's moral worth. Yet at no point does the song turn into simple man-shaming: En Vogue suggests, "maybe next time you'll give your woman a little respect." However, as far as Maxine is concerned, this bridge has been broken. It's a complete break-up put into the best possible narrative terms.

The musical elements of "My Lovin' (You're Never Gonna Get It)" are crisp and on-point. The sample of James Brown's classic "The Payback" creates a monstrous beat, emphasized by sharp synth stabs and a varied percussion section. No other new jack swing song ever incorporated flute so well as "My Lovin' (You're Never Gonna Get It)," and no pop song since has understood the flute's value to the same extent. My personal favorite element of the musical structure, though, is the boogie boogie breakdown at the end of the bridge: for a brief moment, En Vogue completely captures the spirit of the Andrews Sisters and delivers some of the best close harmony of the decade. It's a nice little throwback that creates a great conversation between musical eras.

"My Lovin' (You're Never Gonna Get It)" might not have been the absolute best R&B single of the 90s, but it's certainly one of the most memorable. The lyrics are quite strong; the singing is excellent, the production is superb. The combination of all the elements snaps into an infectious pop hit that can get stuck in one's head for hours. However, it's the kind of catchy tune one wants stuck in one's head. It's the only revenge fantasy in music I'd like to replay over and over again.

67. "I Ain't Mad at Cha" - 2pac

2pac is one of only four artists on this list to have more than one song in the top 100. This isn't to say 2pac was necessarily the best rapper of the 90s, but he was the rapper who had the most range. Em cees to this day praise the intricate rhythms of Tupac's raps, raps that few modern day em cees can replicate. 2pac had everything: speed, flow, cadence, character, musicianship. Even more important, Tupac had a very dynamic emotional range, shifting from the party-loving 2pac of "I Get Around" to the angry-as-hell 2pac of "Hit 'Em Up" to the heartbreaking 2pac of "Dear Mama" and "Brenda's Got a Baby." "I Ain't Mad at Cha" falls into this third category. Granted, it is more of a favorite than a definitive "best 2pac song"; however, I do think the musical elements of "I Ain't Mad at Cha" are sharper than those on most of 2pac's other great personal tracks. It's a poignant track with spectacular production and, most important, spectacular rapping.

Each verse of "I Ain't Mad at Cha" tells a different story, with 2pac relating the story from three separate points in his life. In the first verse, 2pac takes on the character of a gangster speaking to a friend who has "gone legitimate." The entire verse has a tone of arrogance and naiveté: when 2pac declares, "Oh, you a Muslim now? No more dope game?,"it's practically a challenge to his friend. While he asserts that "he ain't mad" at his friend for leaving him alone in the game, there's a tone of disappointment, as if hustling will no longer have its fun now that his friend is avoiding it. There's a feeling of petulance and ignorance, as if 2pac is an upstart gangster who doesn't understand the true penalties of the life he's leading.

Transition to the second verse, and things change dramatically. This time, the verse is addressed to a girl with whom 2pac has fallen in love. The "game" has caught up to 2pac, and he's going to jail for his crimes. The chief sentiment is regret, as 2pac "reminisce[s] on all the times [they] shared" in the past. Oddly enough, the rage in this verse seems to be directed towards 2pac himself, as he realizes that he needs jail to teach him the harsh realities of street life. Though he made a mistake in the past, his punishment is serving its purpose. Thus, when he gets free, he can be the proper source of emotional support that any good partner should be. The third verse reveals this actualized 2pac, now a dominant rapper who has turned his back on the life of crime. Thus, when people accuse him of lacking street cred, he merely shrugs off the insult, having learned "the hard way." He cannot be mad at his former friends, as they have yet to learn the cruelties of the world.

"I Aint Mad at Cha" is also a masterpiece of flow and delivery. 2pac might not have had as strong a flow as his chief rival, the Notorious B.I.G., but he's still in the top tier of rhythmic rappers. From verse to verse, 2pac alters his style, adding in syncopations and quadrupling his meter. Each of his inflections pops, and his diction is spectacular. The echoes emphasize just the right words, almost in the fashion of rap pioneers Run-DMC. Unlike Run-DMC, 2pac uses a very somber tone, but he never lets his melancholy overwhelm his raw technique.

The beat: spectacular. Daz Dillinger, the same man who produced the no. 80 entry, "Gin and Juice," outdoes himself again with a sample of DeBarge's "Stay with Me." While the original song is one of the worst songs ever to come out of Motown during the 1980s, the new beat is a neo-soul-inspired classic that echoes "I Ain't Mad at Cha"'s lyrical themes of reflection and temporality. Just as important is the vocal contribution of soul singer Danny Boy, whose riffs and chorus hearken back to the soul classics of the early 1970s. It's a lush production that only enhances 2pac's raps.

2pac's legacy is unimpeachable. "I Ain't Mad at Cha" isn't even his most beloved hit song, though it certainly has the right to be. We'll have to wait and see what other rap classic made the list.

66. "Goddess on a Hiway" - Mercury Rev

There are no songs by the Flaming Lips on the list. Though their album, The Soft Bulletin, is often considered one of the best of the decade, I'm not a fan in the slightest. The whole album sounds too alien for me to enjoy, with harsh saw synthesizers that grate on the ear. Plus, Mercury Rev outclassed the Flaming Lips in pretty much every category. Songwriting, production, album quality, innovation: heck, Mercury Rev's landmark albums, Yerself is Steam and Deserter's Songs, both preceded The Soft Bulletin! "Holes" is already the honorable 101st entry on this list. And "Goddess on a Hiway" is a better song than anything the Flaming Lips have ever released.

"Goddess on a Hiway" is fairly repetitive, with the verses and chorus being composed of two lines each. The song's central lyrical conceit is the similarity between the word, "goddess," and the phrase "got us." It's not as lyrically brilliant as 2pac's rhymes on "I Ain't Mad at Cha" but it's certainly effective in context. As I interpret the song, the narrator introduces his girl to the freedom of the open road, in a somewhat similar fashion to Bruce Springsteen in "Born to Run." Once there, the girl embraces the spirit of freedom and actualizes her potential as an autonomous spirit. By the end of the journey, the third verse, the narrator comes to see his beloved as a being fully realized, a "goddess on a highway."

The real kicker, though, of "Goddess on a Hiway" is the music. "Goddess on a Hiway" is very much a departure from most of the other tracks on Deserter's Songs, as it does not rely on the ethereal strings and synthesizers of "Holes" and "Opus 40" to provide musical spirit. Rather, it turns to standard piano, bass, and guitar: the standard instruments for any good rock band. The bass line in particular is slick, almost sexually suggestive in its lumbering beat. The piano progression reminds me very much of Aerosmith's "Dream On" - always a plus in my book, seeing as "Dream On" is one of my absolute favorite songs. Dave Fridmann does a subtle job on the drums, emphasizing the hi-hat so to make the chorus that much more effective.

And what a chorus it is.

"Goddess on a Hiway" is in the key of F#m. The chorus is in the key of A, the III of the original key. This in itself is somewhat unorthodox; most pop songs with a modulation simply use the V of the original key. Making things even more interesting, "Goddess on a Hiway" transitions to the IV/III, AKA the VI chord of the original key. This shift into major hits with an explosive force, producing a huge adrenaline rush in the listener. Meanwhile, mandolin strings in the background of the chorus add brief suspensions towards the end of each phrase, continuing the song's forward momentum. The musical structure of the song pushes the audience towards the inevitable shift back into the F#m key. It's an immaculately executed volta that few 90s pop songs can match.

One of the finest 90s pop songs that never actually charted, "Goddess on a Hiway" is a piece of spectacular dream-pop that never got its due. It didn't even chart, despite having the excellent instrumentation and musical chops. Even worse, few indie publications gave it the attention it deserved. Sure, New Musical Express called Deserter's Songs the album of the year and later recognized "Goddess on a Hiway" as one of the 150 best songs of the past 15 years in 2011. However, it was the only publication to even mention this song. No one else - Pitchfork, Rolling Stone, Beats Per Minute, Treble - even brought up the song in their evaluations of the best songs of the 90s. It's an oversight I am not willing to make. Mercury Rev, this is a classic song that deserves to endure.

As for the misspelling of the word "highway" in the title... I have no idea...

65. "Brothers Gonna Work It Out" - Public Enemy

Public Enemy is the greatest rap band, greatest rap artist, greatest rap thing ever, and I will hear no argument to the contrary. Public Enemy fused the hard-hitting sounds of Run-DMC with the flow of Rakim with the cultural commentary of Melle Mel. They not only predated N.W.A. but also surpassed them on every level - lyrical dexterity, sonic innovation, album quality, studio output, flow, and energy. I ask: where is their movie? It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back is undoubtedly the finest rap record ever made, and it will probably never be surpassed. What's more: 1990's Fear of a Black Planet has a good claim on the number two spot. And Fear of A Black Planet's first track, "Brothers Gonna Work It Out," is as good an album opener as any rap group has ever written.

Terminator X, Public Enemy's DJ extraordinaire, and the Bomb Squad, rap's greatest production team, start off "Brothers Gonna Work It Out" with a beat on par with other legendary Public Enemy tunes like "Bring the Noise," "Rebel Without a Pause," and "Black Steel in the Hour of Chaos." Starting off with some brutal record scratches from Terminator X, the Bomb Squad layers in the synthesizer of Melvin Bliss's "Synthetic Substitution," the percussion of James Brown's "Get Up, Get Into It, Get Involved," the bass of George Clinton's "Atomic Dog," and the guitar solo from Prince's "Let's Go Crazy" to create one of their most intricate beats. As is the case most great rap songs, the beat works to bring various eras of African-American music into harmony with one another. Even better, "Brothers Gonna Work It Out" quotes from Public Enemy's own songs, including the classics "Rebel Without a Pause," "Don't Believe the Hype" and "Bring the Noise" - the three best dance tracks on It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back. It's a beat that never fails to pump up the listener, priming the listener for Chuck D's spectacular rhymes.

As with most Public Enemy songs, "Brothers Gonna Work It Out" centers around Public Enemy's Afrocentric philosophy. Chuck D spits out his rhymes with a vitriol unmatchable in hip-hop, using each verse to set up the next. The first verse functions mostly to hype up the audience; of course, Flavor Flav's additions make the bars that much more energetic. In the second, Chuck D dares black youths to take up their rightful roles in society. My personal favorite line in the whole track is "Histories shouldn't be a mystery/Our story's real history/Not his story." It's a powerful indictment of Winston Churchill's quote that "history is written by the victors." In three brief lines, Public Enemy gives a defiant rebuttal: the black man will not sit back and let those who have previously enjoyed cultural dominance to trample upon their culture. They will not let traditional Western narratives trump their own equally valuable stories. But, even after a line this good, Chuck D never relents, flipping quotes from Martin Luther King Jr. to Abraham Lincoln. "Brothers Gonna Work It Out" is a tour de force of political rap.

Equally important to note is "Brothers Gonna Work It Out"'s function on its album. The true start of Fear of a Black Planet, "Brothers Gonna Work It Out" establishes a sense of inevitability. In a manner similar to Marx's Communist Manifesto, "Brothers Gonna Work It Out" boldly claims that the black revolution it speaks of is inevitable. Even if Public Enemy's song goes unheard in its own time, in political hindsight, it will be seen as a masterpiece. Then, consider the final track on the album: "Fight the Power." While "Brothers Gonna Work It Out" speaks to the future, "Fight the Power" speaks to the present. It is the call to arms that "Brothers Gonna Work It Out" says will happen. In essence, "Fight the Power" shows that the present is the living future itself, and the revolution must be ongoing.

(For the record, had it not been first released as a single in 1989, "Fight the Power" would have been the Public Enemy song on this list. Furthermore, it would have been number one on this list.)

Though "Brothers Gonna Work It Out" isn't as good as most of the tracks on It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back or the disqualified "Fight the Power," it's still a landmark hip-hop track. It's just another instance of Public Enemy being the best rap act in history, and it's one killer song for any listener to appreciate. If, for some reason, you haven't had the opportunity to enjoy this band's lyrical and musical majesty, buy It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back or Fear of A Black Planet right now. If you're short on cash, just listen to "Brothers Gonna Work It Out" to hear just how much you are missing.

64. "Mr. Krinkle" - Primus

One of my favorite musicians from any era is Frank Zappa, rock's most literate composer and most accomplished satirist. He made avant-garde music approachable, witty, virtuosic, and hilarious. The man was so accomplished a composer that he was one of four composers to headline the 1992 Frankfurt Music Festival, right up there with 20th century classical giants Karlheinz Stockhausen and John Cage. Zappa died in 1993, leaving behind a massive legacy of spectacular albums from the poppy, the virtuosic, to the outright absurd. With his death, though, the question was: who would be the new champion of absurd rock? While Zappa's contemporary, Don Van Vliet AKA Captain Beefheart, had some claim to the throne, a newer band snatched the title right out from under him: Primus.

Primus perfectly captured Zappa's virtuosity - what with Les Claypool being one of the best bassists to ever live - and his biting sense of humor. Primus contented themselves to sing songs about utterly stupid subject matter, subverting classic rock and roll's conventions by enhancing the musical dialogue while completely draining away the lyrical dialogue. Seriously, the band wrote a song called "Wynona's Big Brown Beaver" in which the beaver of the song isn't a double entendre, but an actual pet aquatic rodent. But their crowning achievement, in my eyes, is 1993's "Mr. Krinkle," one of the darkest songs in Primus's entire catalogue. Pretty much anything on the Pork Soda album is black humor gold, but "Mr. Krinkle" has an edge no other Primus song can match.

"Mr. Krinkle" starts the absurdity from the very first note; Claypool isn't playing an electric bass, but an upright bass. That being said, he plays the upright bass in a complete rock fashion, practically chopping at the strings as if with an axe.  Larry LaLonde's dissonant guitar solo incorporates an intentionally uncomfortable melody, just memorable enough to leave an impression but just grating enough to put the listener off-kilter. Tim Alexander's drums build and ebb in a fashion intended to terrify the listener, with each fill coming as a shock; the only steady part of the percussion is an ominous pedal. However, amidst this musical chaos, the bass riff is steady and imposing. As the bow tears across the strings, the listener is forcefully dragged into the speakers.

While most Primus lyrics are straight-foward satire, "Mr. Krinkle" seems to have higher aspirations. Here's my interpretation. Mr. Krinkle, as suggested by his auditory-evocative name, is an elderly man who has observed a tremendous amount of change over the course of his lifetime. Now, in the waning years of his life, the last few vestiges of his life are ebbing away. The hometown sports team he loves to watch moves away. The boating industry that has kept his town's economy afloat goes under. The music he loved hearing on the radio has been replaced by a New Wave fusion of Hendrix, James Brown, and Cher. Now, as he watches everything he cherished fall to pieces, he hears a taunting voice in his head, asking the incessant question "why." Based on Les Claypool's sinister vocal, I assume this voice is either demonic or schizophrenic, taunting Krinkle with the inevitability of his own death.

Also, I cannot discuss "Mr. Krinkle" without discussing its music video, one of the most intricately choreographed and executed pieces of surrealism in MTV history. It's a morbid circus shot from an angle, fit with Siamese twins jump-roping, clowns sword fighting, a man in a metal mask on a unicycle, a hot dog salesman, a man performing the hat-switching routine from Waiting for Godot, a man whipping another guy while being carried on a litter, a woman riding a frozen tank of fish, sun and moon deities, all topped off by Les Claypool wearing a pig mask and shaking his behind into the camera. Oddly enough, though, the video fits the music perfectly. Larry LaLonde's main riff suggests the animated spirit of the circus, while Claypool's bass suggests the morbidity of the act. Framing these themes of theatrics around the previous lyrical interpretation, it appears as if Primus is maliciously mocking this character's suffering, acting as living representations of his growing insanity.

Few songs in existence are truly evil in every element of their execution. "Mr. Krinkle" is one of these rare few songs, fitting in the pantheon of Howlin' Wolf's "Back Door Man" and Suicide's "Frankie Teardrop." It's a delightfully morbid tale that uses Primus's special absurdity to make it work. It's a musical experience that pulls us right down the rabbit hole into a wonderland of psychosis.

63. "Ready or Not" - The Fugees

In 1997, Celine Dion won the Grammy Award for Best Album for Falling into You, quite possibly the worst record nominated that year. Three landmark alternative albums were nominated that same year, and all of them deserved the award more than Dion. While I enjoy both Beck's Odelay and the Smashing Pumpkins' Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness, I would have chosen the Fugees' The Score, a masterful collection of hip-hop re-imaginings of classic 70s soul songs. The break-out hit from the album was "Killing Me Softly," a fairly straight cover of Roberta Flack's immaculate "Killing Me Softly with His Song." It's a good cover, but it's not extraordinary. The most critically respected song nowadays seems to be "Fu-gee-la," often considered the most definitive expression of the Fugees' lyrical prowess. In my opinion, though, the strongest track is the third track and final single, "Ready or Not."

Suggestion: listen to "Ready or Not" while wearing headphones. The opening wave of synthesizers passes from one ear to the next, practically bathing the listener in sound. When Lauryn Hill makes her entrance, however, she comes from both sides: studio magic at its finest. This small detail reveals the extent of the Fugees' craftsmanship: few artists since the Beatles and Black Sabbath really took care to notice what sound goes in what ear. The song's production has a very clear artistic intention, and it's that much more effective when one hears the amount of effort put into the track. When the drums enter the track later on, the snare snaps with a decisive groove, using the syncopated beat of the bass drum to emphasize the third beat of the bar.

As with most of the Fugees' songs, "Ready or Not" is framed around a cover of a classic soul song. The subject: the Delfonics' 1968 hit "Ready or Not Here I Come (Can't Hide from Love)." It's far from the zenith of the genre; the Delfonics themselves had multiple superior hits. If one factor weighs the track down, it's the excess of harmony. With multiple layers of doubled vocals and a lush strings orchestration, the somewhat threatening tone of the lyrics ends up subdued and less effective. Compare that to Lauryn Hill's version. With a mere minor-third harmony, she ends up evoking far more emotion and intention than the original song: it's just a sharper performance.

And let's not forget the rapping itself. Wyclef Jean, Lauryn Hill, and Pras all have strong verses, each showcasing their signature flow and subject matter. Wyclef discusses his life at the top of a criminal empire, using the chorus to present himself as a threatening figure; his laid-back flow suggests the ease at which he could kill his critics. Lauryn's verse takes a different approach, asserting her presence as a female rapper in a male-dominated genre. In fact, throughout the entire verse, she manages to rhyme all the words within a simple ABCD framework. Not all of her rhymes are spectacular, certainly, but her confidence is clear. Pras's verse is the worst on the track, as is typical, but even he brings something new to the table. His verse shows how the chorus applies to poorly-treated refugees, searching for some resting place from the law. In each case, the Fugees use the chorus to ground their verses. It's a fairly uncommon structure for a rap song, and it works exceedingly well.

The Fugees' music has continued to age spectacularly. In the midst of 1996, an otherwise fairly standard year, The Score managed to bring something new to hip-hop. "Ready or Not" is a breath of fresh air, revitalizing a 60s classic and turning it into a dark but thoroughly entertaining hip hop tune. It's an under-appreciated song that will likely be remembered as the Fugees' finest tune in twenty or so years. I just hope I can help more people appreciate it in the present.

Also, it's US President Barack Obama's favorite song. Beat that.

62. "Waterfalls" - TLC

Seriously, there are people who hate "Waterfalls?" What?

I find it difficult to take any criticism of "Waterfalls" very seriously. Most of the criticism centers on the song's taking some lyrical motifs from Paul McCartney's underrated 80s love song, "Waterfalls." It's a pretty tender tune, and I would recommend taking a listen. However, the lyrics are admittedly scattershot and random (seriously, what's the deal with "chasing polar bears"?). TLC's song actually imbues McCartney's arbitrary metaphors with true meaning while also having far superior production, melody, social significance, and soul. It's a song so good as to become the second most popular song of 1995, beaten only by a song that will be featured later on the list. "Waterfalls" did not rely on gimmicks or marketing manipulation to get popular; it is simply one of the best written pop songs of the decade, an undeniably good track that made its way to the top of the charts.

The strongest element of "Waterfalls" is the masterful production from hip-hop producers Organized Noize. I personally love the use of the drum machine to tap out sixteenth-note triplets in order to produce the sound effect of water dripping from a tap in an urban neighborhood. The guitar chords too are aqueous, using the "wah-wah" to expert effect. The muted trumpets and other horns channel the spirit of smooth jazz, particularly of the breed used on the popular children's television series, Sesame Street. Such a choice is particularly fitting: since Sesame Street generally teaches children how to stay on the straight and narrow, "Waterfalls" updates the TV classic's warning to children for adult audiences using the same musical structure.

The vocal performances are subtly brilliant in their own way. Tionne Watkins has a voice that is very much reliant upon scraping, a technique that's not considered very healthy for the voice. That being said, the vocal texture adds an edge to the lyrics. The themes of "Waterfalls" are painful, discussing the plights of urban youth on the edge. In a way, the main melody sounds as if Watkins is crying. Rozanda Thomas's backup vocals add a gentle third, allowing each vocal to decrescendo into despair at the end of each phrase. And Lisa "Left Eye" Lopes's rap is effective; some might consider her voice annoying, but I find it perfectly serviceable. There's plenty of soul to go around, combined with a strong sense of musicality. There's even some slight overtones on the chorus; that takes some skill.

"Waterfalls" is also somewhat of a rarity in 90s pop music, as its lyrics are quite conservative. Throughout the track, TLC inveigh against gang violence and unsafe sex, relating multiple stories about the fates of those caught up in such "waterfall"-like activities. The very first line of the song is poetry in and of itself: "A lonely mother gazing out of her window/staring at a son that she just can't touch." The lyrics all capture the spirit of visual story-telling. Of course, the excellent music video for "Waterfalls" brings these images to life, but the song manages to do this all on its own.  Through telling such stories,  TLC insists upon the listeners following the path of the straight and narrow, always thinking before one gets caught up in a world of sin and death. Some might call the tone patronizing, but, in the hedonistic atmosphere of most 90s R&B, this song must have been quite refreshing.

Even if the only people bought the track were conservative parents hoping to lure their children onto the right path by tempting them with R&B, "Waterfalls" would still be a great track. It has everything a good pop song should have: great production, great musicality, great lyrics. Sure, it's not the most universally likable song should one be overly steadfast in one's political views, but it's a track that shows the other side of the story. In the 1990s, popular music needed figures like TLC to show the underbelly of the social change the 70s and 80s had wrought. And TLC delivered great songs time and time again, with "Waterfalls" being their greatest cultural legacy.

61. "Here" - Pavement

Ah, Pavement: every indie rock die hard's favorite band. And, in my opinion, one of the most overrated acts of the 90s. As lyrically brilliant as Stephen Malkmus and co. are, I cannot get around the fact that their music itelf is extremely stagnant. Their lo-fi sound is practically passionless, favoring emotionally empty guitars and needless distortion. Malkmus is a genuinely bad singer, with a horrendously flat voice and the inability to use a musical phrase to his advantage. Their melodies are generally unmemorable, with no arc or tessitura of which to speak. Pavement epitomizes everything about indie rock most pop music fans and trained musicians loathe.

But "Here" is a piece of soul-bearing so scathing that even I cannot deny it a place on this list.

"Here" seems to be Pavement's self-reflection on their identity as a band. Due to their lo-fi aesthetic and lack of pop production, they could never attain the level of success of other alternative groups. Furthermore, in spite of their authenticity, few listeners came a-calling. Indeed, the only visible fan Pavement had in their initial run was Robert Christgau, the so-called "Dean of American Rock Critics," whose criticism is so haphazard and grounded in non-musical elements as to be objectively worthless. Yet "Here" halfheartedly embraces Pavement's lack of popularity in a mock-drinking anthem. Pavement seems to see their star fading just as it is coming into view, anticipating their own artistic demise on their first major album. Counter-intuitive, perhaps, but it's an effective move.

The lyrics of "Here" also present the piece as a conversational one, between Stephen Malkmus and a girl he is dating. The relationship is a tender one, in which both partners realize each others' flaws. Malkmus clearly sees his partner's poor sense of humor, yet he quickly shifts the burden onto himself with a dose of self-deprecation. A single line seems to suggest much more, an unspoken tie so strong that Malkmus would let his partner witness the collapse of his hopes and dreams. There's a trust at work in "Here," that of true love or friendship. In a sense, the song is the final shot from the film, Fight Club; perhaps this would have been a more fitting song to end the film than the Pixies' excellent "Where Is My Mind?"

As with most Pavement songs, the music itself is somewhat lackluster. The drums are particularly limp as compared to some other Pavement tracks, let alone tracks by more musically accomplished bands. The bass is also extremely repetitive. That being said, Stephen Malkmus's guitar work almost makes up for the rest of the song's musical deficiencies. During the bridge of the song, the guitar provides a beautiful descant to Malkmus's shattered vocals. The beauty of the musical line seems to suggest the companion Malkmus invokes in the lyrics. It's at once the most beautiful and fragile part of the song.

Pavement is a difficult band to discuss without dipping into pretentious Pitchfork prose, but they do have a substantial legacy in 90s music. I may not be a big fan of their music, but I have many friends who stand by the band to the bitter end. Once one's a fan, one is a fan for life. While none of their main albums appeal to me, they at least wrote one song that I think is brilliant. "Here" is a rallying cry for indie rock fans everywhere, an ode to something beautiful enduring amidst a sea of troubles. It's the ultimate set-ender in indie rock.

Top 100 Best Songs of the 1990s: Part 3 (80-71)

And now, a portion of the top hundred composed almost wholly of rap songs...

80. "Gin and Juice" - Snoop "Doggy" Dogg

If the 90s left any one concept to the cultural lexicon, it would be "cool." Cool dominated the culture, from characters such as Tyler Durden from Fight Club, Sonic the Hedgehog, and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, to the various advertising campaigns championing the "righteous" lifestyle. But no single figure embodied cool so much as Snoop "Doggy" Dogg, whom I shall hereafter refer to as Snoop Dogg due to the sheer number of times he has changed his name. The most iconic voice of West Coast rap, Snoop Dogg's self-assured yet relaxing flow brought tremendous success to both his rap career and his entire record label, Death Row Records. Most would cite his verse on Dr. Dre's "Nuthin' But a G Thang" as his best work, but, as I've stated previously, the track's lyricism leads a lot to be desired. (Indeed, one of Dr. Dre's verses contains one of the absolute worst lyrics in any song ever: "never let me slip, 'cause if I slip, then I'm slippin.'") "Gin and Juice," on the other hand, is as laid back as its more famous cousin, but more than manages to hold its own.

"Gin and Juice" sees Snoop Dogg at the top of his game, at the top of the hip hop hierarchy, on merely his second single. Normally, such unabashed arrogance would count against a rapper, but Snoop's commanding flow demands respect. "Gin and Juice" has so many internal rhymes as to make most rappers blush: "bubonic chronic," day/Dr. Dre/Tanqueray,""stoppin'/poppin'/Compton." He uses the line "we don't love them hoes" to bookend the first and last verses, creating a miniature ring composition in his rap. Few other rappers have ever put so much effort into partying. Snoop's flow is self-assured and intricate, warranting one's respect.

Even better than Snoop Dogg's flow is Dr. Dre's masterful beat. While The Chronic established Dr. Dre as a legitimate solo act, his production work on others' work has always brought out his best. "Gin and Juice" samples disco titan George McCrae's "I Get Lifted" for its killer bass line. Even better is the chorus, a reinterpretation of funk band Slave's "Watching You." While the original is a pretty tame pick-up line with weak harmonies, the chorus of "Gin and Juice" is a raunchy, re-harmonized ode to materialism from Daz Dillinger and Jewell. Never has chiasmus sounded so beautifully unethical.

As deliciously funky as "Gin and Juice" is, however, it cannot ultimately overcome its sexism. The women in "Gin and Juice" are little more than wallpaper, just additions to the overall narrative for aesthetic effect. Sure, Snoop Dogg has the decency to at least name the main woman in his song (Sadie), but her character is little more than that of an object for Snoop to use. But such casual misogyny is fairly standard to hip hop music as a whole,  and I can't really fault this song entirely for its sexism. Were "Gin and Juice" to drop the "hoes" of the "money, cash, hoes" mentality, it would undoubtedly be higher on the list.

79. "Killing in the Name" - Rage Against the Machine

As I've discussed before, metal hit a point of musical stagnation in the 1990s, a stagnation especially disappointing considering metal's high point during the 80s. That decade saw Judas Priest, Iron Maiden, Megadeth, Candlemass, and a whole host of other metal bands at their creative peaks. Come the 90s, few bands managed to keep their critical standings intact. Judas Priest jumped ship to speed metal, Iron Maiden ended up soundtracking one of the Nightmare on Elm Street sequels, Candlemass stagnated, and the Big Four thrash bands all got steadily worse. Only two new bands jumped up to fill the gap. The first, Pantera, pioneered and perfected the subgenre of groove metal; the title track to their fifth album, "Cowboys from Hell," was a strong contender for this list. However, the best metal band of this new generation was Rage Against the Machine, the only metal band in history to fuse rap and heavy metal and make the two genres sound wholly cohesive (unlike their bastardized cousins, Limp Bizkit). Their magnum opus: "Killing in the Name."

"Killing in the Name" is a rarity amongst metal songs: it's genuinely funky. Tom Morello and Tim Commerford produce one of the slickest grooves in metal history, altering from off-beat stabs to helicopter-like chops to impressive hammer-ons and pull-offs. Not one verse or chorus of "Killing in the Name"'s music is exactly the same, making each listen that much more enjoyable. Also helpful is the masterful sound production: each slam of the drums merely manages to enhance the other instruments. Last, but not least, is Tom Morello's blisteringly fast guitar solo, combining tremendous picking and tapping speed with mastery of the pedals. The entire song builds up to a final chorus of cathartic expletives, and the rush is outright intoxicating. It is impossible not to headbang to this song.

Normally, I find Zack de la Rocha's vocals somewhat distracting from Rage Against the Machine's overall sound, but they certainly pay off here. Ever the political metal singer, Rocha uses "Killing in the Name" to criticize those policemen who are secretly members of the Klu Klux Klan. His lyrics may be repetitive, but they're nonetheless poetically effective. The use of chiasmus to accent the hypocrisy of the KKK policemen in the chorus is an especially clever move, one with which lesser metal bands could not hope to keep pace.

Interestingly enough, "Killing in the Name" is a number one hit song. Normally, metal songs as violent as "Killing in the Name" never make it to the top of the charts... that is, the American pop charts. On the British pop charts, any song has a chance of making its way to number one. After five years of X-Factor winners having the Christmas week number one song under their control, the masses got fed up. Wanting anyone but Simon Cowell to be earning Christmas earnings, fans of RATM, led by DJ Jon Morter, flocked to Facebook, urging British fans to start buying the track on iTunes in bulk. The campaign succeeded, and "Killing in the Name" became the fastest selling digital download in British history. Given its tremendous funk-vibe and incredible power, it's more than worthy of this honor.

78. "Shook Ones (Part II)" - Mobb Deep

While the West Coast epitomized the "party all the time" attitudes espoused in "Gin and Juice," the East Coast delved into far more disturbing lifestyles. And rarely did East Coast hip hop songs come more violent and terrifying than Mobb Deep's "Shook Ones (Part II)," the greatest sequel in hip hop history. The original "Shook Ones" was a profanity-laden but effective murder rap that exposed Mobb Deep to the public at large. "Shook Ones (Part II)" stripped away the keyboards, the profanity, and the bounciness of the original and produced one of the most frightening songs ever written.

In the very first verse of "Shook Ones (Part II)," Prodigy announces that he will "rock you in the face, stab your brain with your nose bone"; he will punch any false gangster in the face so hard that the cartilage from his nose will be pushed into the brain, causing the "shook one" to hemorrhage to death.  And that's only the 46 second mark. Prodigy threatens entire families and gangs, hailing himself as the most dominant gangster on the New York streets. His flow is incredibly clever, emphasizing the off-beat so to advance his murderous persona. Additionally, his pauses make it seem as if he is freestyling, making him appear that much more confident.

Havoc's verse is just as good, playing upon the phrases "mustard gas" and "in God we trust" in the very second line. While Prodigy's verse has better rhymes and flow overall, Havoc adds an element of self-reflection that is often lacking in gangsta rap songs: "Sometimes I wonder, "Do I deserve to live/Or am I going to burn in Hell for all the things I did." No sooner does he think this than does his gangster lifestyle kick back in, suggesting the cyclical nature of violence and how urban youths can be drawn into it. Havoc's verse ends on a warning note to any children who may end up drawn into the lifestyle, cautioning them about the insanely murderous adults (like Prodigy's character) who live in the dark corners of the city.

The chorus of "Shook Ones (Part II)" gains new meaning from each chorus. Prodigy's chorus is mocking and bitter, throwing scorn upon any false gangsters aspiring to ascend the criminal hierarchy. Such false gangsters are the "shook ones." Havoc's chorus is more concerned, with the "shook ones" being those young kids caught up in the chaos of gang violence, kids who don't want to be crooks but are nonetheless killed and arrested.

With its expertly crafted verses, its chilling chorus, and eerie, minimalist production, "Shook Ones (Part II)" is one of the most finely crafted gangsta rap songs ever. The only reason it isn't higher is lack of strong inflection: as vicious as Prodigy and Havoc's words are, their voices don't really fit the words. Their tone is somewhat off. Now, should Nas or Method Man have been spinning these rhymes, the song would have made the top fifty. As it is, it's one of the best remixes ever and a cornerstone of East Coast hip hop.

77. "C.R.E.A.M." - Wu-Tang Clan

The Wu-Tang Clan's influence on hip hop is incalculable. They were the group that introduced Ghostface Killah, GZA, Ol' Dirty Bastard, Method Man, and Raekwon to the world, all of whom are considered amongst the top tier of rapping emcees. Leader RZA's production design on Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) laid the groundwork for all subsequent East Coat hip hop, including the work of the Notorious B.I.G. and Nas. However, it's difficult to distill all of that influence into a single Wu-Tang song. Few individual tracks from any Wu-Tang member or the Clan itself is of the same pedigree as the best song of non-Wu-Tang rappers, with one major exception. That exception is "C.R.E.A.M." or "Cash Rules Everything Around Me." A song addressing the harsh reality of a life dominated by capitalism, "C.R.E.A.M." has become something of a manifesto for all rappers trying to make their way in the world. It's still one of rap's strongest reflections on the ruthlessness of the materialistic world.

Oddly enough, "C.R.E.A.M." only features verses from two members of the Clan: Raekwon and Inspectah Deck. Raekwon comes out swinging, delivering lines loaded with his trademark triple entendres. Take the line: "Only way I be gettin' the G off was drug loot." The term "G off" could refer to rising to prominence as a gangster, acquiring money, or achieving sexual satisfaction. Throughout his verse, Raekwon describes how the Wu-Tang Clan and rapping saved him from a life of hustling drugs on the streets and running from the cops by clambering on fire escapes. The verse is very much to the point, and its concision helps it immensely.

Inspectah Deck's verse is far longer. While not as tightly packed with wordplay as Raekwon's, it tells a similarly vivid story of a man caught up in the same drug trade. Deck, on the other hand, gets caught by the police, finding out, to his horror, that life on the streets and life in a cell are equally bad. Unfortunately, Deck turns to drugs to numb himself to the pain; only with the help of the Wu-Tang Clan is he able to get out of his rut. His final words are a direct appeal to the urban youth, imploring them not to let the materialism of the era to trap them in the gangster lifestyle.

The production from RZA is some of his best. RZA frames the song around the classic 60s song from the Charmels, "As Long As I've Got You." But while the original was a seductively lush love song, "C.R.E.A.M." is dark and brooding, using the Charmels' piano introduction to tremendous effect. The descending trills suggest the perilous fall of innocence and youth that gangster culture engenders. Just as important is Method Man's vicious chorus, a chorus that leaves nothing to the imagination. Additionally, every inflection on "C.R.E.A.M." far outpaces "Shook Ones (Part II)." While the hazy psychedelic intro to the beat can be somewhat repetitive, the overall musical structure is still sound.

Though "C.R.E.A.M." isn't the hardest hitting rap song of the 90s, it is undoubtedly one of the most influential, being quoted in songs by countless successive emcees. With its chilling beat and excellent verses, "C.R.E.A.M." exposed the Wu-Tang Clan to the public in a way none of their other songs could match. Oddly enough, for a song denouncing the dangers of capital, "C.R.E.A.M." remains one of the Wu-Tang Clan's most successful songs. It deserves the cash.

76. "Woo-Hah!! Got You All in Check" - Busta Rhymes

I love weird. Weirdness in music can often lead to genuinely creative and incisive ideas. Frank Zappa, rock and roll's ultimate champion of weird, is one of my top ten favorite artists. But, in the 90s, weird music emerged in different outlets than standard avant-garde rock. Few were better than the first single of Busta Rhymes, "Woo-Hah!! Got You All in Check." While Busta Rhymes made his grand debut on A Tribe Called Quest's excellent "Scenario," it was on "Woo-Hah!!" that he really came into his own, the song in which he formally introduced himself as the weirdest rapper in the game.

Busta Rhymes's performance on "Woo-Hah!!" is nothing less than masterful. Rhymes has repeatedly proven himself to be one of rap's finest masters of flow. In addition to being one of the fastest rappers in history, Busta Rhymes can completely change his style from song to song or stanza to stanza. Busta's flow on "Woo-Hah!!" is erratic but nonetheless brilliant, often using triplet rhythms against the duples of the beat, nonetheless concluding his rhymes on the same beat. Busta even makes fun of his complex flow with the line, "which mother****** stole my flow?/eeenie, meanie, miney, moe," emphasizing the off-beat with each word. He simultaneously mocks rappers who would dare imitate his style while adding an element of surrealism in that someone might actually have taken away his ability to flow in a standard fashion.

"Woo-Hah!!"'s main lyrical conceit is its rhyme scheme: the chorus and verses all follow a single AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA rhyming structure. Sixteen bars of a single rhyme is actually quite difficult to write while simultaneously creating a coherent story. Accordingly, Busta Rhymes frames his verses as a flurry of insults and brags, asserting his dominance over the rap game with an amalgamation of wordplay, allusions, and jokes. The chorus follows a similar structure, but it encourages the listener to headbang to the tune, to the point that one might "break [one's] neck" through so much dancing.

The beat from producer Rashad "Ringo" Smith is similarly insane and brilliant. The bulk of the production comes from a sample of Hair composer Galt McDermot's instrumental track, "Space." However, instead of sampling the piano line at its cadence, Smith takes the riff in the middle of its melodic line and loops it. The resulting melody resolves slightly but not completely, creating music just as disjointed as Rhymes's flow. Though such music would be a detriment to any other rapper, it only manages to enhance Busta Rhymes's persona. "Woo-Hah!!" seems to take us on a trip into the mind of a disturbed rapper, cussing his way through all his detractors. In spite of its bright tone, the music has a dark effect.

"Woo-Hah!! Got You All in Check" is a fantastic single from one of the best emcees of the 90s. In fact, it was so good as to get Busta Rhymes nominated for a Grammy. He regrettably lost the award to LL Cool J, especially disappointing seeing that both "Woo-Hah!!" and Nas's "If I Ruled the World" were nominated that same year. Nonetheless, "Woo-Hah!!" has managed to endure for a few decades whereas LL Cool J's "Hey Lover" has been mostly ignored. Creativity and weirdness have a staying power that cannot be matched.

75. "Brimful of Asha" - Cornershop

Many light pop songs have very complex subtexts. Most famous of these is likely Nena's "99 Luftballoons," a song that almost jubilantly welcomes the apocalypse. In a similar fashion, Dexys Midnight Runners' "Come On Eileen" is actually a breakout anthem of pure love enduring in spite of conservative oppression. The best 90s equivalent to these songs is Cornershop's "Brimful of Asha," a seemingly simple reggae-sounding song that reached the top of the British charts in 1998. Seeing as "Brimful of Asha" is a piece of cod reggae, a musical genre widely considered to be one of the least genuine and most insulting in all of music, one would think the song would be repugnant. Once one understands the song properly, though, one can appreciate its importance.

Cornershop provided an excellent breakdown of the song on their website, but I'll summarize the interpretation. "Brimful of Asha" is an ode to Indian cinema/Bollywood and the importance of said movies to escapism. India is an extremely turbulent country, what with the death of Indira Gandhi and the continued problems of the Kashmir valley; the carefree, musical environment of Bollywood often provides a spiritual escape for children. At the same time, most Bollywood stars do not sing their own music; rather, it is background singers like Asha Bhosle, the "Asha" of the title, who end up producing the main magic. Asha Bhosle is the Marni Nixon of Indian cinema, having sung over 12,000 songs in her career. In fact, the Guinness Book of World Records credits her as the most recorded artist in history. "Brimful of Asha" is a credit to those who produce joy in the world but who do not ask for tremendous payment or attention in return.

Most music critics tend to prefer the Fatboy Slim remix of this song, what with its accented drums and techno-beat. I, on the other hand, prefer the stripped down arrangement of the original. I like the subtle use of synthesizers to introduce the song and the strings that serve to close the song. I am especially fond of the simple but effective drum fills, fills which make each chorus and verse an individual experience. While the chord progression is a simple I-V-IV pop progression, the syncopated rhythm makes for an incredibly fun listen.

"Brimful of Asha" is a deceptively simple song with endless replay value and a fantastic set of lyrics. While not everyone will catch all the references, anyone who can will find one of the most delightfully intelligent songs of the 90s. It may have a cod reggae feel, but it transcends its mediocre genre to produce a truly excellent piece of music.

74. "Praise You" - Fatboy Slim

No DJ has made sampling sound more fun than Norman Cook, AKA Fatboy Slim. After all, he turned "Brimful of Asha" into a highly successful dance hit before it ever became a mainstream cod reggae song. The undisputed master of big beat music pioneered dozens of techniques now standard for college DJs and radio stations. But while the offshoots of his legacy have been less than exemplary, his own hits are extremely enjoyable. Case and point: "Praise You." While extremely simple musically, "Praise You" calls upon both generic and esoteric pop music tropes to produce one of the finest dance tracks of the 90s.

The main hook of "Praise You" is a descending chromatic piano riff, repeated ad infinitum. Oddly enough, this sample is a transposed snippet of a track called "Balance and Rehearsal" from a JBL album called Sessions, a record released by a headphones company featuring various sample music sounds. In essence, "Praise You" samples the demo tracks featured on a standard keyboard. Yet Fatboy Slim enhances this simple riff perfectly, adding in cowbells, a James Jamerson inspired bass lick, and a disco guitar lick taken from The Mickey Mouse Club. Throw in the standard beat pulses one would expect from a dance track, and one gets a more than satisfying dance track.

The singing comes from a track called "Take Yo' Praise" by Camille Yarbrough. One of the spoken word pioneers of rap music, along with the more well-known Gil-Scott Heron, Yarbrough fused Nina Simone-inspired soul with 70s funk guitar to create some truly powerful poetry. She's often considered one of the underrated forbears of late 80s and early 90s adult alternative. Her influence can be heard in artists ranging from Lauryn Hill to Tracy Chapman to... Fatboy Slim. Her sultry vocal is just unassuming enough for Fatboy Slim to transform it into a defining chant of the 90s.

"Praise You" might not be impressive today, considering that thousands of successive dance songs have aped its success. Nonetheless, for its time, it was a pioneering track. From its excellent beat to its varied sampling to its intense direction, "Praise You" fully understands what makes a great dance song. Hats off to you, Norman Cook.

73. "Regret" - New Order

New Order was one of the best bands of the 1980s. With songs like "Bizarre Love Triangle" and "True Faith" in their extensive catalogue, New Order provided some of the darkest, most thoughtful, most engaging pop tracks of their era. After several incredibly good releases in the 80s, New Order split from their record label. After releasing the Republic album in 1993, New Order broke up so to let the members explore solo projects. This move proved to be at pop music's detriment, as the pop charts rarely heard from bands as consistently good as New Order until the 2000s. At least the band left "Regret" as a testament to their brilliance.

Cited as the last great New Order song by bassist Peter Hook, "Regret" tells the story of two people in a relationship with an extremely rocky start. If one gives "Regret" a cursory listen, one could misconstrue the song as a plea for help. Rather, if all the lyrics are considered, "Regret" is a pure expression of joy. After several mis-steps in a relationship, the narrator has finally come to terms with his emotional partner. Now that the two are at peace and are happy with each other, neither regrets those misunderstandings and negative experiences of the past. The chorus feels truly alive, a rush of emotional finality and contentment. Normally, such sentiments do not bode well for creativity, but New Order makes it work.

"Regret" shows New Order making some clever updates to their sound. While not the most guitar-dominant band, New Order took some cues from U2 and added some reverb-focused effects to Bernard Sumner's guitar. After hearing such sparing guitar parts from Sumner ever since New Order's days as Joy Division, it's quite refreshing to hear a song so wonderfully huge. Furthermore, the guitar echo offers a sense of nostalgia to "Regret," an effect I rarely ever find in music. Just as good is Hook's bass line, providing a steady groove in the main chorus but a pulsing heartbeat in the bridge and post-chorus. Plus, he even throws in an incredible bass for good measure.

"Regret" is a soaring classic, keeping the best parts of 80s synth-pp alive in the 90s. Yet it has an edge very few synth-pop songs do. It managed to bridge the gap between the decades in a way few other songs could. Though "Regret" might have been New Order's last hurrah for the decade, it was an ending the fans could certainly respect. One could not ask for more of one of the best bands of the 80s.

72. "What They Do" - The Roots

I like to think of "What They Do" as a better version of "I Used to Love H.E.R." After all, unlike Common, the Roots actually play their own instruments. Every piece of music in "What They Do" comes from the band; even those pieces that are sampled are re-performed by the band rather than merely mixed in. And it's some of the best R&B of the 90s. The chorus alone is one of the smoothest pieces of music I've ever heard, with shimmering harmonies, delicate drums, precise hammer-ons and pull-offs, and a thumping bass line. It's a piece of music that could make artists like Roberta Flack and the Undisputed Truth jealous.

Furthermore, "What They Do" is another incisive critique of the excesses of gangsta rap. Though "What They Do" lacks the clear punchline and metaphoric weight of "I Used to Love H.E.R.," its insults are much more direct and to the point. "The principles of true hip-hop have been forsaken/it's all contractual and about money makin'" - there's no beating around the bush. The first verse is also rife with internal rhyme and clever wordplay. The Roots deliver a smackdown to faux-rappers like Vanilla Ice while demonstrating their own lyrical superiority.

But "What They Do" isn't purely destructive. The Roots' main emcee, Black Thought, builds up his own character. He doesn't rap because it's fun or because it makes him feel good. He genuinely wants to create an art that has been used throughout the past several decades to uplift the black community. Rather than focusing on creating dance jams, the Roots focus on creating music and rhymes one to which one listens. Enhancing the art and challenging the mind is the main goal of new music. Sure, the cash and limousines are part of the pop musician's lifestyle, but they should never be the overriding focus. Black Thought even dedicates his final verse to his writing process, including his way of re-interpreting his influences. He goes so far as to mentions the main sample of the song.

Best of all, the music of "What They Do" mirrors its lyrical aspirations. The guitar on the track is utterly spectacular, calling back the delicate strums of the jazz great Wes Montgomery. The synthesizer riff echoes of George Clinton and Stevie Wonder, while the bass line is clearly inspired by the greatest of the Motown bassists, James Jamerson. Even the whisp-like samples remind the listener of the magical sounds of Curtis Mayfield's Superfly. The Roots create a union of black American music, establishing "What They Do" as another song as part of a long, proud tradition.

"What They Do" is an expertly crafted musical track. While Black thought's inflections aren't the best, his flow and rhymes more than make up for his deficiencies. Furthermore, the attention to detail in the production is practically nonpareil. It's one of the finest hip-hop tracks the 90s produced, perhaps the greatest throwback hit of the decade.

71. "Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space" - Spiritualized

It's a genuine cop-out to call "Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space" other-worldly, what with Spiritualized being the premier space rock band of the 90s. Furthermore, to do so would be to utterly fall for the song's production value rather than its actual lyrical structure. Indeed, as complex and rich as "Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space" may sound, it's little more than a remix of Pachelbel's canon and Elvis Presley's "Can't Help Falling in Love." That being said, "Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space" is so good as to make the listener not care that the music is unoriginal. No chord progression is truly original; what matters is the execution. And no one has ever made the Pachelbel sequence more ethereal and dream-like than Spiritualized.

The production of "Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space" makes the song seem as if a conversation between two astronauts... floating in space. Both are at different places in their romantic life, with one using the loneliness of space to console himself in heartbreak, while the other quotes Elvis in declaring his love to a woman. Ultimately, the latter astronaut breaks through, championing love as a force beyond space and time. While the despairing astronaut gets in a few more repetitions of his line, the second astronaut ends up triumphing, eventually articulating two lines to the despairing astronaut. A third voice joins in, discussing the sheer mystery of the world around us and love's profound effect on us. The song then ends.

I, however, prefer the original studio version of the song, the one not censored by the Presley estate. In this track, a massive choir sings "Can't Help Falling in Love" in the last minute of the song instead of the third voice. The sample has a stirring effect, triggering our collective nostalgia for one of the best and sappiest love songs ever. The use of the classic Elvis tune anchors the depths of space in the simplest yet most complex expression of humanity possible: "I love you." By the same token, "Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating In Space" also highlights just how alien love can be for those who have not felt it. It's at once an ode to complexity of feeling as it as an ode to love conquering the cosmos.

Each pulse on "Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space" works. From the shimmering of the synthesizer line to the creaks and whistles of the intercom, the song does sound atmospheric. The distortion on the vocals is also spectacular, filtering the humanity of the singer through a device rather than receiving it in the raw. Yet the production never takes away from the unifying concept of the song or its melodic composition. It's a tightly knit piece in which each detail matters. As far as electronic rock is concerned, that is my primary concern as a critic.

"Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space" might be a bit too technological for pure rock fans, but any fan of music in general is bound to enjoy it to some extent. While the rest of the Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space record is more than fair game for criticism, this one song is wholly transcendent as opposed to the rest of the material. Spiritualized managed to outdo themselves with this track, a spectacular song for a new age of music.