This is a true story of a girl who spits blood whenever an issue of Rolling Stone magazine hits her mailbox with a big red cover bordered in gold.
Faithful subscribers know exactly what that means: why, it’s a Rolling Stone “collectors issue,” one that typically compiles a list of some sort that tends to irk anyone who touches it. Being of broad taste, it’s not so easy to rile me when it comes to music history. I will stand behind nearly any artist or group who has made some sort of impact with the respect they deserve for doing such.
However, it’s blindly obvious to those who have followed in the wake from Generation X onward that the baby boomers who started the popularity of rock’n’roll have done nothing but their hardest to grind into our minds that their music was what mattered and everything since has been derivative and worthless. These are the folks who will revere everyone from the Beatles to Bob Dylan, regardless of its inherent awfulness; they only break their sneer long enough to give a few props here and there to whoever was collectively labeled as hip, and that’s the end of the list. Oh, and it shows, dearest Rolling Stone magazine. You have bred your writers well, my friend.
For those not attentive to the shelves of the rock press, this past week (Issue 963, December 9, 2004) was the special collectors issue, “The 500 Greatest Songs of All Time.” Thankfully, Rolling Stone has been discredited as a critical wasteland for approximately fifteen years now; nobody in their right mind will look at this tome with any sort of respect. Still, it comes to my mailbox as others have come before it since I was 16 years old, and I feel obligated to turn its pages to something other than the juicy ads hidden in the back.
I hate to be the one to complain about Bob Dylan’s “Like A Rolling Stone” holding the top spot when I do agree that it’s a fantastically written song. The lyrics are indeed brilliantly poetic and the spirit in which it rolls along feels very honest and true. Yet, while there are elements of great songwriting at work here, has anyone listened to that song lately? Great composition, indeed; great song, not so much.
Allow me to assert my own personal definition of what makes a great song, versus a good song, catchy song, fun song, or interesting song:
A great song is one which elicits an emotional response from the listener that is far greater than the sum of its parts.
As for its parts? Songs can be broken down into four basic elements, each one just as important as the last.
Lyrics: Words are written as poetry, as rant, as nonsense, as whatever. Sometimes they’re not even used, and even that itself is a statement. Great songs have something to say, regardless of how mundane; one doesn’t need to write about epic tales and hardcore emotional bastardry to be great, either. The lyrics should just plain fit the song. It needs to work with its fellow elements.
Melody/harmony/rhythm: These are the elements which stick in your head more than the lyrics. An amazing riff that catches the ear and drives home the entire body of the song is typically what makes a song popular in the first place, but utilization of a proper bassline or a driving rhythm can work wonders for a little slice of melodic magic.
Structure: The universe is familiar with the verse/chorus/verse/chorus/bridge/(optional solo)/chorus format that has been nearly done to death over the years. A great song might be that simplistic if done well, and “weirdness” per se might not necessarily make a song better. Still, if it doesn’t flow and something sticks out like a sore thumb, that’s unacceptable.
Instrumentation/vocalization: This is the meat and potatoes, folks; choices in sound and the outpouring of feeling behind them are what can make a decent song into something larger than life. Failure to convey the emotion behind the lyrics or a weak backing to even the most brilliant of song structures will positively kill a song dead.
Using this as a rough template, here are the top ten choices by Rolling Stone for the greatest songs of all time, and my dissection of such.
1. Bob Dylan “Like A Rolling Stone”: Great songwriting, sure. There’s nothing I would change about that as a whole. But where this falters for me is the performance. Yes, Dylan’s voice was never pleasant, and the harmonica plays into the song’s message contributing to the emotional quotient. Still, Dylan doesn’t seem to express everything he’s hidden within the tune. Who could, really? I’m not saying it’s not a great song, but few would call it an emotional heavyweight upon first listen. A song that needs to be studied in order to be called “great” simply has a long way to go before it can be number one. “Blowin’ In the Wind” was number 14. I think I would rank that baby higher than this one.
2. Rolling Stones “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction”: Conversely, this tune has earned its slot. The lyrics are angst, the riff is angst, everything plows along flawlessly, and the band honestly sounds like they can’t get no satisfaction, that’s for sure. This is an anthem, this is emotion, this is quality. Even when Samantha Fox and Britney Spears tried their hardest to desecrate it, it all came back to Mick and Keith.
3. John Lennon “Imagine”: I have to cry overrated on this one as well. It’s a simple song about simple things, heartfelt and true. That’s wonderful. Indeed, there’s emotion there, but not so much something that speaks to the listener. It may be a credo for simpler times, but for the pessimists of the universe, it’s little more than wistful unrealism that not everyone can relate to. Thanks for the hippie ideals and all that, Mr. Lennon, and your song is indeed great, but number three? Sorry, I’m just not feeling it.
4. Marvin Gaye “What’s Going On”: Conversely to Lennon’s lofty peace anthem, Gaye spoke much truer to reality and closer to the hearts of his listeners. There was a bucket of innovation instrumentally on this track without disturbing its structure (which flows beautifully, I must say). I can’t discount this one as being an emotional outpouring of the times, never mind that it aged relatively well.
5. Aretha Franklin “Respect”: Brilliance. I would probably make this my number one, in all honesty. Perhaps it’s my ovaries that make me rejoice with the overwhelming emotional outpouring from Ms. Franklin’s mouth, but that chick was positively amazing on this track. From the backing vocals to its funky soul instrumentation, its assertive lyrics to its off-kilter structure that keeps it rolling without concept of time passing, this baby is truly great.
6. The Beach Boys “Good Vibrations”: Okay. It looks like this is the obligatory Beach Boys knob slob, although I would argue that “God Only Knows” (number 25) fits my criteria much better. To me, it’s a good song that’s also fun. Fantastic harmonies and some daring instrumentation (theremin, anyone?) made it innovative, but could the fun vibe of this song literally lift someone to its emotionally bouncy equivalent? I have no doubts that it’s well written, but “great” shouldn’t be used so damned liberally just because someone out there thinks everything Brian Wilson touched should be bronzed.
7. Chuck Berry “Johnny B. Goode”: I’m going to try to not let the fact that this song plays nearly every day when I work out cloud my judgment. Rather, maybe it’s a testament that this song still plays nearly every day when I work out that landed it on this list. There’s some killer gut-wrenching guitar playing going on, a memorable hook, and a story of a country boy named Johnny B. Goode. I won’t deny its power, and it certainly gets people up and bouncing around (even on a Monday morning doing squats), but who in this universe has ever declared this a song that had impact on their lives?
8. The Beatles “Hey Jude”: Why? Why this song? Don’t get me wrong, I was raised to adore the Beatles with the best of ’em. It’s fun to sing with a room full of drunk people, but then again, so is Bon Jovi’s “Wanted Dead Or Alive,” and I don’t see that on this list. Anyway — it’s a damned good song. If you take the time to learn about the lyrics, it’s a heartfelt ode; for what the lyrics degenerate into, the “nah-nah-nah”s work to build a crescendo that drags on forever and ever. The Beatles did far better than this countless times over. Do I need to whip out “Eleanor Rigby” (number 137) or “A Day In The Life” (number 26) and take you idiots to school? “Hey Jude.” For crying out LOUD.
9. Nirvana “Smells Like Teen Spirit”: This is where my stringent rules start to bubble, particularly when we’re talking lyrically. Nobody knew what the hell Kurt Cobain was saying for years. People know what he’s saying now, but yet they still herald it all as brilliance. Has anyone ever sat down and gone through “Smells Like Teen Spirit” to understand what it’s about, to offer is poetic significance? I would welcome the attempt. In that regard, “Smells Like Teen Spirit”‘s inclusion makes as much sense as if Guns ‘N’ Roses’ “Welcome To The Jungle” (number 467) were in its same spot. They’re both obnoxious, romping anthems, brilliantly written and instantly memorable. Neither say anything.
10. Ray Charles “What’d I Say”: You want to talk about a dirty little song? Oh, but it’s a nice one. You have to adore gospel roots in performers, as they really know how to drive that emotion home, that’s for sure. No, this song isn’t deep, unless you’re willing to insert some sort of Beavis and Butthead joke there because I said “deep.” But the lyrics, the force behind the piano, the killer bridge and catchiness beyond belief just plain scream “great.” Thanks, Ray. You might be higher on the chart than you should be because you died, but we’ll take you anyway.
In flipping through some of the other numbers ranked, I see a lot of the same problems as I saw with the above songs: lots are missing an overall quality that surpasses its elements. Something that makes it larger than life, so-to-speak, without an obvious flaw. The Beatles get four in the top twenty, none of which are the ones I mentioned above. The list is overloaded with hippie anthems (there are a total of 202 entries in the 500 that come from 1960-1969) and the last two and a half decades are almost completely ignored (82 of 500 come from 1980 and forward). “Stairway To Heaven” is Led Zeppelin’s highest charting entry at number 31 (that should’ve been “Whole Lotta Love”), and U2’s “One” (hello, where’s half of The Joshua Tree?) ranks the highest of their efforts at number 36. That bastard of a song “Hotel California” by the eternally awful Eagles landed slot 49. I honestly hope that puzzles each and every person reading right now.
But what should be up higher? What should be filling that top ten in my universe? To name a definitive list on such a whim for me would be detrimental, and I know I would leave out something all too important. Instead, glancing further down the list, I can only point out what I truly believe fits the definition of a great song and definitely deserves more recognition than to be buried under the damned Ronnettes and their awfully harmonized monstrosity, “Be My Baby.”
#52: Prince, “When Doves Cry”: There is something utterly magical in the melody of this song; the vocals are delivered with a mix between sex and violence; everything about it absolutely comes alive. This is one of those songs that makes me tingle with its power. Or maybe that tingle was Prince in the bathtub in the video… wait, no. It’s the song, I swear.
#65: Cream, “Sunshine Of Your Love”: That is one riff from hell, my friends. The bass just rips out my intestinal tract. Yeah, the lyrics are slightly druggy and odd, but not without poignancy; in the end, it adds to the grand feeling of innovation that makes this quite high on the greatness scale. Maybe not top twenty, but it whips anything by The Eagles.
#74: Stevie Wonder, “Superstition”: Do you want to see me dance? I don’t dance. But I sure as hell would dance to this song. I love the lyrics, everything about the funk that Wonder was slamming into this track was monster-size, it seemed to go on forever (in a good way) and nothing else has equalled liquid excitement to me like this baby.
#82: The Kinks, “You Really Got Me”: To me, this is up there with “Satisfaction” as far as the oldschool anthems go. It’s got a point and it drives there. I love how the verses slow-build into the chorus with an unreal tension. It just makes it explode that much harder.
#144: The Ramones, “I Wanna Be Sedated”: Two minutes of radness. The whole song embodies the title; it’s nonstop action, the lyrics fit, it’s very close to being a perfect pop song, period. Short and sweet.
#162: Sinead O’Connor, “Nothing Compares 2 U”: I have sung this song many times and cannot even come remotely close to capturing the emotion poured out by Ms. Nutcase O’Connor. Prince writes great tunes, and the simplicity of delivery is what took this song to a high beyond anything that bombast could create.
#174: Rolling Stones, “Paint It, Black”: WAY too low on the chart. Friggin’ lovely tune, this is.
#242: Elton John, “Rocket Man”: Far underrated. There’s a creepy harmony in this track, something sinister and uncomfortable, that makes the subject matter and everything else just plain not sit right. It’s that uneasiness that makes it so grand. Such is the case of taking a musical chance and turning a simple song into something much larger than life.
#278: The Cure, “Pictures Of You”: Considering this song has the ability to rip my heart out of my chest and stomp on it before I even have the chance to catch on as to what is happening, the only reason I can imagine it’s so low on the damned list is because of all the aging hippies that were voting in the first place. I have nothing more to say.
#316: Pink Floyd, “Wish You Were Here”: Is there any doubt that this fits my criteria? It’s non-standard, it uses simple instrumentation to build a lovely crescendo with a nice outro that softens the depressing air it creates, the lyrics are simulataneously heartwarming and cruel. Excellent.
#465: Cheap Trick, “Surrender”: It’s pretty cold and heartless to put this baby so low on the list. If you don’t understand by now why my sentiments lie the way they do, you need to re-read this article.
Alas, these simple misrankings were not the catalyst to my projectile blood purging as previously mentioned; instead, what bothers me is the inclusion of so many other songs on this countdown. So much was omitted, but I haven’t had the time or forewarning to think of any offhand. Instead, all I can do is turn the pages and seethe as another song passes by my eyes and I shriek insanely at the incompetence of those who allowed them to rank above anything at all. It’s obvious that I hate the Eagles and all, but here’s a quick list of what I deem utter abominations musically — ones that are not great songs in the least, and not even passable as good songs, although they may be fun or enjoyable — that honestly should never pass a critic’s mouth when it comes to compiling a list of greatness, period.
#103: Donna Summer, “Hot Stuff”
#171: Abba, “Dancing Queen”
#210: ? and the Mysterians, “96 Tears”
#243: The B-52s, “Love Shack”
#301: Rod Stewart, “Do Ya Think I’m Sexy”
#399: Metallica, “Enter Sandman”
#406: R. Kelly, “I Believe I Can Fly”
#440: Salt-N-Pepa, “Push It”
#476: Foreigner, “I Wanna Know What Love Is”
To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure that I could find 500 songs ever written that encompass my ideals of greatness. Perhaps I’m just too selective, too picky about what I would call truly great. Maybe I’m omitting that “fun” is a high contributing factor of emotion that a song can give, and I’m paying too little attention to its credence. Perhaps I’m just bitter at not finding “I Stay Away” by Alice In Chains on this list, a song I personally find to be so emotionally wrenching that it hurts to listen to it. Where is Soundgarden’s “Outshined,” arguably one of the greatest riffs ever written? Can I have me some Radiohead’s “Karma Police” (“Paranoid Android” and “Fake Plastic Trees” made the list, dammit)?
In short, where are the songs that affect me? How can they hold so much power as to make me lose control of myself, yet f*cking “Desperado” is on that list?
Thank you, Rolling Stone, for compiling yet another chunk of fluff geared toward the aging and the out-of-touch. Give me a call and I’ll send you a mix tape; perhaps I can lend a hand to help you make it all better.
Talkin’ ’bout things that nobody cares (number 408),
–gloomchen
P.S.: In a cheap attempt to deflect angry mail, I give you Flea’s Saturday Evening Post, always found at 1ryderfakin.com if for some reason the Pulse gets a little behind. Whether or not you agree with him, he’s got the Bob Dylan respectability thing, ya dig?
P.P.S.: You want to know where Grutman is hiding out? He’s playing with my other New York pal. Someday, I really will stop being a topic of conversation in the Sports zone. Enjoy the great read.
