Boy howdy, girl rowdy…let’s just dive into this elbows up, yeah?
It’s less stressful, this song-rating business. That’s why Rolling Stone’s put out the 500 Greatest Songs of All-Time list four times this century. It drives views, it inflames haters, it imbues stans, and unlike a list of 500 Greatest Albums, no one doubts the people who made the list actually heard every entry.
It’s trickier, though. Studying these lists, I realized my most frequent complaints concerned not a song itself but either A) the artist in question had a far greater song that could take its place or B) this ranking business is about as useful as a blade-less shovel. Why not just list the songs? Alphabetical, chronological, by genre, by region…not this numerical crap, as if there’s some actual, calculable value to opinions.
Yeah, well, they didn’t. Maybe in the future they will, as humanity embraces egalitarianism, but I’m high off doubting that.
Rolling Stone’s 500 list held on as long as it could to tracks that in reality lost their relevance the second Revolver hit the scene (looking at you, “Cathy’s Clown” and “Earth Angel”), and songs crucial to the development of the genre went from top fifteen to the top two hundreds (“My Generation” and “Purple Haze”). It’s really with the 2021 and 2024 lists that the aforementioned epiphany floated upon my brain. Rolling Stone is paying tribute to some tremendous songs, across a variety of eras and genres. The primary cause of annoyances felt whilst checking these articles out is not “I hate this song it shouldn’t be here” but “I love this song it should be ranked higher.”
And that’s the only real quibble I have with any of the lists from Pitchfork, as well. As historical records, snapshots in time, their merits outweigh their deficiencies.
Both sites dipped their toe into decades-lists as well, Pitchfork from the 1960s to now, Rolling Stone from the 1980s to now. Interestingly, RS's Eighties and Nineties lists are each the thoughts of a single writer, Rob Sheffield, while the latest two are credited to multiple writers. Cynical me sez such is the case since no one scribe on staff is willing to ride so hard for the music of the 21st century. (Seriously, Rob’s advocacy for the most brilliant period of music in world history is lovely.)
The Stone's attempts at ranking the 100 best tracks of select genres have gone about as well as wrestling an alligator with one arm. Lemme save ya some time: “Painkiller” isn’t on the Metal list, “Ether” isn’t on the Hip-Hop list, and “Let Your Love Flow” isn’t on the Country List. You’re welcome.
PItchfork’s looks at the Sixties and Seventies are the most readable that site will ever be. Again, once I stopped focusing on the number by the name, I could just enjoy the nostalgia tickle. Like, I love that they put “Linus & Lucy” at 43, but is it really better than “Walk Away Renee” or “Wichita Lineman”? No but who cares those songs are on there too. Whimsy, balladry, it’s beauty.
The Eighties list is pretty good (I’ve high standards), but that Nineties list…remember when I said earlier in this series that Pitchfork was fated to cover no other decade of music as frequently or as fervently as the decade in which the site itself debuted? Behold! Two separate song lists, twelve years apart. The differences are stark and plentiful. This newer list is Pitchfork telling everyone, “Our staff listens to more than indie rock now.” Comparing the lists, we see song after song tumbling Homer Simpson-like down the rockiest, jaggiest cliff ever animated.
“Only Shallow,” 6 to 78.
“Holland, 1945,” 7 to oblivion
“Your Woman,” 158 to the back of your grandmother’s closet
“Autumn Sweater,” 49 to 100
“Enjoy the Silence,” 15 to 106
“Girls and Boys,” 26 to 220
“Gold Soundz”, 1 to 40
(goddamn, justice for Malkmus, man)
Whether the heterogeneity on display is a sign of honest evolution or not, most of the choices are unfuckwitable: “Tear Da Club Up,” “Deceptacon,” “U.N.I.T.Y.” Another great song new to the 2022 list is the remix of Mariah Carey’s “Fantasy.” In fact, that’s the song Pitchfork staff deemed the best of the decade. I don’t know what happened in the interim to cause such a rise in esteem for this particular track, but…it’s a bit of a self-indictment. I mean, there weren’t that many Radiohead songs on the old list.
NME did a 500 Greatest Songs list too, a year after dumping the 500 Greatest Albums into the landfill of public opinion, and I tell you, no one loves British music more than British people. Here in America, we knew to stop Spandau Ballet after two songs. John Lennon’s been dead for almost 45 years now, and we’re no longer scared to admit “Imagine” is ass.
Well, I certainly can’t end this post on that gasp-worthy bit of wordcraft, can I?
For all the crap I give NME’s list, they at least acknowledge Paul McCartney penned and performed some of the greater songs of the Seventies, and apparently won’t get the credit due until he’s made his final move on this game board.
All told, not nearly enough love for metal on these lists. You can’t tell me that “Holy Wars,” “Painkiller,” “Raining Blood,” “One,” and “I’m Broken” don’t deserve love. And no, I don’t just mean because they’re great songs, I mean because they were trademark songs from legendary bands. Switching sides a sec, I understand why “Hey Ya!” rates higher than “B.O.B” on all-time lists. It was a ubiquitious, electrifying, crossover smash from the half of Outkast who doesn’t really like rap that much. By my standards alone, however, it’s “B.O.B.” all day and all of the night. How many rap songs do you know with guitar solos?!
Not enough disco. Rolling Stone threw a bone to “Mighty Real,” but where’s “You Should Be Dancing,” “Get Down Tonight,” or “If I Can’t Have You”?
I’ll argue that you can’t have a legtimate 500 Greatest Songs without “The Twist,” “Rock Around the Clock,” or “I Feel Love.”
Just, who would argue with me?
Tomorrow…the moment at least one person’s been waiting for…my personal favorite 100 albums of all-time ever in life!
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