Amongst my worst qualities as a human being are my aggressive need to be right about the James Bond movies, my habit of impulsively buying food, and my disinclination to listen to complete albums. It’s not to say I haven’t done it (LEMONADE y’all!), it’s just that my taste in music, unlike my taste in people with whom I sleep and subsequently kick out of my room, is very high and finnicky. So, most of the music I listen to I’ve heard in commercials, trailers, movies, commercials and trailers for movies, the radio, and once in a while, recommendations from friends, enemies, and former lovers’ sister’s best friends. In honor and celebration of nothing in particular, here’s a list of 100 favorite songs that I originally intended on posting last year, but due to laziness and a bout of post-Mad Men depression, I never got to. 100. Just Leave Everything to Me – Barbara Streisand in Hello, Dolly!
Your requisite Babs song. That’s all you’re getting from me.
I don’t mind sounding like a hipster snob (so, basically, like myself) when I say that I liked this song before it was in that Marvel movie.
I’m quite fond of this song’s presence in Xavier Dolan’s Heartbeats, but it is simply the greatest “Hey, Your Brother is Really Hot, I Kind of Want to Fuck Him, Is That Okay with You?” song ever.
Not merely a good ironic neele drop fo 10 Cloverfield Lane, but an ode to teens getting a little dirty. Ah, youth. There’s the thrum of the guitar and carelessness when one forgets to bring lube.
95. Kiss – Prince
The first time I heard this was on Glee, and I haven’t forgiven Ryan Murphy since.
I have felt bad for The Zutons for years. They’re perfectly great pop rock track was plucked up by Mark Ronson, rearranged to sound more like Motown, they brought in a lioness for the vocals, and it’s like they never did it. But, no worries, this one crashes in like a heartbroken partier, and, while it’s somewhat less “fun”, it’s still an enjoyable ride, like your drunk friend post-break up trying to make out with a plant.
What does Kyle have?
That is correct.
Thank you, Joe Brady.
Thank you, Harmony Korine.
This is the first song I’ve had as my alarm clock that I haven’t started to hate after a week. I, like Miss Simone in the song, am also bewildered by this.
A friend of mine once commented, after seeing me post this to my wall, that this was so “on brand” for me. Was it the name of the band? The hopeless romanticism draped in punkish angst? The queerness of it all? Yes, probably. (I saw PWR BTTM perform this live in New York and, just before hitting the strings, Benjamin Hopkins mae a joke about the whiteness of the HRC. They’re golden in my eyes.)
I think narratively, my cynicism gets in the way and makes me think that the romance here is really dumb. But, then, the song starts and I forget. It’s a song filled with hope in a world where there isn’t anything else.
There’s a lot of Beatles on this list. I grew up listening to the Beatles and it’s probably the only musical artist where I’ve been a completist, in every sense of the word. Deep cuts, rarities, live performances, studio recordings, outtakes, demos. I have it all in my music library. But, as this list will tell you, I’m also basic af. I’ll go back to the well known ones because, regardless of whatever Brooklynite will tell you, the deep cuts aren’t always the treasure. Sometimes it’s right there. However, in this case, the original single is balanced by TV Carpio’s cover for Julie Taymore’s film Across the Universe, queering the original track by retaining “man”, but juxtaposing that word against the female vocalist and, in essence, speaking to a kind of impossibility of queer love in a heternormative world. They make good companions: the raucous fun of the original and the tender vulnerability of the cover.
Thanks, Wes Craven.
I often gravitate towards covers of Beatles songs, actually. The way that such artists as The Wallflowers are able to update these tracks makes them sound, in comparison, way les dull and milquetoast. (Trust me, did you listen to the original recording? This and “I’ve Just Seena a Face” are much improved by covers.)
Maybe don’t listen to this song on repeat if you’re in a long distance relationship. o, but the soft tenderness and immediacy of intimacy in Karen O’s song for the film is amongst the very best in film and music. And there’s something about ScarJo’s velvet painted voice that’s so palpably melancholic.
In a perfect world, I would lump the 90’s Bond themes all together. Oh, I just did. The quality of these films notwithstanding (GoldenEye is amazing, TWINE is interesting but flawed, I don’t remember anything about TND), they produced some stranger, mythically powerhouse performances.
I heard this song in Fun with Dick and Jane, which is a fun movie. It wasn’t until putting together this very list that I actually learned any of the lyrics.
I am of the opinion that Kelly Clarkson never needed American Idol. She would have done superbly without it based purely on her vocal abilities. But, that’s just me. I still rock out to this like it’s 2003.
The essential “I Love You and I’m Going to Waste My Time Doing That” song.
I was with some friends recently and I did my own version of the lapdance in Death Proof for them to this song.
I first heard this in an AT&T commercial, and this song is too good for such terrible customer service.
“Tomorrow Belongs to Me” was originally here, but I thought it would be weird to have a fake Nazi Youth song in a list of favorite music.
Even though I super don’t get the appeal of Mariah Carey, I do understand the appeal of this song.
For a band as fuckin’ bougie as Vampire Weekend, many of their songs, including this one, is about the reconciliation and challenging of their privilege. It also doesn’t hurt that the music video for this is a mashup of Wes Anderson and Godard’s Week End.
I haven’t seen De-Lovely in a long time, but, if I recall correctly, it works best as an excuse to watch famous people do Cole Porter songs, which is not a bad thing.
I should have just put the whole album here, tbh. But there’s fury, loathing, and liberation in these songs, and the last one is especially a banger.
Hot Take: this song is about someone telling their lover the story of how they fell in love during the AIDS crisis. It feels very quasi-Angels in America, really.
There is no bad version of this track, but I’m very fond of the soft waves that gradually become this emotionally devestating crash.
That scene in Girlhood is the best one cinema has to offer.
Loving this was a process. I spent, maybe, 18 years hating it. And then I finally got it.
I like songs that are about yelling at people.
I feel like I should write about this song at length someday. But, while Spears’s version is an accomplishment in its own right, Mark Ronson’s is sultry and sexy and dangerous. It’s sticky and sweaty, and the perspiration drips off one’s chin. This is the kind of song I would want to fuck to.
Good breakup song.
Best Bond song.
The lead singer looks like one of my exes.
Back in the days when I wanted to get married and have three kids and live in the suburbs of Connecticut, I wanted this to be my first dance at my wedding.
I’m a sap.
What you have here is verve that the Beatles never had and that Fuchs riffs off of from Joplin, which is fine by me.
When I was in high school, I gave a girl I had a crush on a shot glass with the lyrics of this song (“I get no kick from champagne…”) typed on a piece of paper and folded on the inside of the shot glass. It was, as a friend told me not long ago, kind of gay.
There’s a lot to love in the various iterations of Carole King’s song, but the song’s earnestness never falters from one version to another. King’s is slower than The Shirelles, like a confession, and Lykke Li follows in King’s footsteps, pulling the tempo back anymore and relying on but a few piano notes. Li’s cover in particular, though, unleashes a singular rawness in the song, where it ceases to be a question and more of revelation of deep longing. There is fear and deep melancholy in Li’s cover (it was used for the Carrie remake’s trailer), and what fragility opens the song gives way to an astonishing self-assurance. A confidence in the nee for an answer.
A pick made out of sentimentality, admittedly. It was a favorite of my parents’, and my father would have been 64 this year.
There’s a bunch of ironic joviality to Vampire Weekend’s discography, but no more than here. A warning to those that wish to ignore the contemporary, or modern, sociopolitical and economic landscape in favor of a blissful holiday, the sharpest satire comes in the following: “She’d never seen the word BOMBS / She’d never seen the word BOMBS blown up / To 96 point Futura.” Ouch.
I don’t think it’s a secret, but I genuinely like Lady Gaga. I think it’s fascinating as an experiment, and I’ve always been interested in her attempts to infuse different styles and aestehtics within what I think its a pretty limited context. Here, with Queen’s Brian May on guitar, she goes rock, with a song about nostalgia’s manipulation of love.
It isn’t Halloween unless I’ve listened to this on repeat 100 times.
If I played baseball, this would be my at bat song. It has a swagger to its sound and a seductive appea.
I’m running away to New York. I keep hearing of people that leave academia for other things, or that have degrees and aren’t happy in their current job situation. So I’m running away to New York. Gershwin’s sweeping illustration of the city that never sleeps is the fuel to my admittedly romanticized idea of New York, but so be it. But it encompasses fear, loneliness, anxiety, and uncertainty. But there’s an ebullience and a joy that is foundational to the work. It it the sound of someone saying that anything is possible. All you have to do is try.
Should iTunes be believed, I’ve played “Valerie” 332 times since I had to reinstall the program last year. I haven’t synced my iPhone up since December, so who knows what the count is now. Amy Winehouse purrs through the words, backed by guitar, strings, brass. Mark Ronson takes a solid track and turns it into something great, at once retro and completely new, with a passion