110. Van Halen "Panama"
In the late 1970's and early 1980's Van Halen were the colossus that stood astride the arena rock world just as Kiss and Led Zeppelin had done before them, and like those bands they had the ability to fill those arenas, not just with audiences but with the hugeness of their sound.
Like many bands, Van Halen was ultimately all about chemistry, as shown by the careers of both vocalist David Lee Roth solo and post-Dave-Van Halen. Guitarist Eddie Van Halen and the boys wandered off into guitar wankery and Dave turned into Milton Berle in stuffed spandex. But when they were together, some kind of hard rock alchemy happened that pushed them all past their limitations.
"Panama" from their breakout-to-megastardom album 1984 is the best example of these guys in full flight. It has it's origins in Roth reading a review in a magazine that said that all Van Halen songs were about cars and girls, realizing that he had never written a song about cars and then dragging the band to the local race track where the discovered a dragster called the Panama Express.
One could describe Van Halen as a latter-day hard rock Beach Boys in that they epitomized the booze-babes-and-fun California dream to a generation of fans, and this song* with it's automotive-sexual-metaphor lyrics, thundering drums from the other Van Halen brother Alex, absolutely volcanic melodic riffing from Eddie, and incredible anthemic chorus (bassist Micahel Anthony's backup vocals were one of the bands great touches) all perfectly capture the spirit of licentous abandon at the heart of Van Halen. Roth was never the world's greatest singer, but his confidence and charisma made him the consummate rock frontman of his day, and he uses what vocal ability has well here, especially on the perfectly placed breathless bridge. Yeah, this is stadium rock, but it's stadium rock at it's best, besides these guys would blow the roof off anyplace smaller. And rather than the medieveal mysticism of Zeppelin, the gloom and doom of Black Sabbath, or the costumed theatrics of Alice Cooper or Kiss**, these guys were the final bastard sons of the party-hearty hard rock of Grand Funk Railroad and Humble Pie, with the party meter pushed way into the red and a dose of self-aware humor added to the equation. Make no mistake, this is the finest example of pure 100% Big Dumb Fun. And not getting enough of that is unhealthy.
*Not to mention it's excellent video. as writer Chuck Klosterman says, it does waht a video is supposed to do, visually encapsulate a band's appeal, which in this case is the sentiment "I wanna party with those guys."
**although it was Kiss bassist Gene Simmons who helped them get signed by financing their first demos after catching an early live show.
In the late 1970's and early 1980's Van Halen were the colossus that stood astride the arena rock world just as Kiss and Led Zeppelin had done before them, and like those bands they had the ability to fill those arenas, not just with audiences but with the hugeness of their sound.
Like many bands, Van Halen was ultimately all about chemistry, as shown by the careers of both vocalist David Lee Roth solo and post-Dave-Van Halen. Guitarist Eddie Van Halen and the boys wandered off into guitar wankery and Dave turned into Milton Berle in stuffed spandex. But when they were together, some kind of hard rock alchemy happened that pushed them all past their limitations.
"Panama" from their breakout-to-megastardom album 1984 is the best example of these guys in full flight. It has it's origins in Roth reading a review in a magazine that said that all Van Halen songs were about cars and girls, realizing that he had never written a song about cars and then dragging the band to the local race track where the discovered a dragster called the Panama Express.
One could describe Van Halen as a latter-day hard rock Beach Boys in that they epitomized the booze-babes-and-fun California dream to a generation of fans, and this song* with it's automotive-sexual-metaphor lyrics, thundering drums from the other Van Halen brother Alex, absolutely volcanic melodic riffing from Eddie, and incredible anthemic chorus (bassist Micahel Anthony's backup vocals were one of the bands great touches) all perfectly capture the spirit of licentous abandon at the heart of Van Halen. Roth was never the world's greatest singer, but his confidence and charisma made him the consummate rock frontman of his day, and he uses what vocal ability has well here, especially on the perfectly placed breathless bridge. Yeah, this is stadium rock, but it's stadium rock at it's best, besides these guys would blow the roof off anyplace smaller. And rather than the medieveal mysticism of Zeppelin, the gloom and doom of Black Sabbath, or the costumed theatrics of Alice Cooper or Kiss**, these guys were the final bastard sons of the party-hearty hard rock of Grand Funk Railroad and Humble Pie, with the party meter pushed way into the red and a dose of self-aware humor added to the equation. Make no mistake, this is the finest example of pure 100% Big Dumb Fun. And not getting enough of that is unhealthy.
*Not to mention it's excellent video. as writer Chuck Klosterman says, it does waht a video is supposed to do, visually encapsulate a band's appeal, which in this case is the sentiment "I wanna party with those guys."
**although it was Kiss bassist Gene Simmons who helped them get signed by financing their first demos after catching an early live show.
111. Soundgarden "Burden In My Hand"
The famed "Seattle Sound" of the early 1990's was born, for the most part, from a fusion of the raw energy of punk with the pyrotechnics and chops of early 70's hard rock. The proportions varied of course, and one outfit that leaned much harder on the Black Sabbath/Led Zeppelin end of the equation was Soundgarden, whose mastery of thick heavy riffing and dynamic tempos set them apart. Guitarist Kim Thayil was a master axeman, and the rhythm section was great at the classic hard rock Godzilla plod, but what truly made them special was the astounding voice of charismatic frontman Chris Cornell, which represent the latest step in the evolution of hard rock vocalizing. Instead of the falsetto screech of hairmetal, the deadpan mumble of old school punk, the shout-by-the-numbers of hardcore or the epileptic cookie monster growl of death metal, Cornell offered a deep, rich, sonorous baritone which perfectly complemented the meaty musicianship of his bands songs while sacrificing norhing in terms of expressiveness.
In "Burden in My Hand" from Soundgarden's final album, that voice is on grand display against the alternaely lyrical and sludgy guitars and booming drums, keeping up perfectly which the songs dramatic dynmaics while never lapsing into cheap histrionics. These days, too often white rock seems to have forsaken any effort at powerful singing for ironic distance or self-parodic overkill. Cornell points us toward another direction.
The famed "Seattle Sound" of the early 1990's was born, for the most part, from a fusion of the raw energy of punk with the pyrotechnics and chops of early 70's hard rock. The proportions varied of course, and one outfit that leaned much harder on the Black Sabbath/Led Zeppelin end of the equation was Soundgarden, whose mastery of thick heavy riffing and dynamic tempos set them apart. Guitarist Kim Thayil was a master axeman, and the rhythm section was great at the classic hard rock Godzilla plod, but what truly made them special was the astounding voice of charismatic frontman Chris Cornell, which represent the latest step in the evolution of hard rock vocalizing. Instead of the falsetto screech of hairmetal, the deadpan mumble of old school punk, the shout-by-the-numbers of hardcore or the epileptic cookie monster growl of death metal, Cornell offered a deep, rich, sonorous baritone which perfectly complemented the meaty musicianship of his bands songs while sacrificing norhing in terms of expressiveness.
In "Burden in My Hand" from Soundgarden's final album, that voice is on grand display against the alternaely lyrical and sludgy guitars and booming drums, keeping up perfectly which the songs dramatic dynmaics while never lapsing into cheap histrionics. These days, too often white rock seems to have forsaken any effort at powerful singing for ironic distance or self-parodic overkill. Cornell points us toward another direction.
112. Run-DMC "Rock Box"
Many have said that "Rock Box" was the record where hip-hop made it's approach at rock and roll. I say it's the record where hip-hop proved it already was rock and roll. Through Darryl "DMC" McDaniels metal fandom, these three kids from the lower-middle-class black Queens enclave of Hollis had one foot in the world of the white rock kids who flocked to this record from the jump.
The costumes worn by earlier rappers were jettisoned in favor of jeans, Kangol hats and leather jackets, sending a clear message that this was no novelty act. Gone were the discofied cymbal based beats of earler rap discs, replaced by thunderous drumbeats(while still sacrificing nothing in terms of sheer funky groove), the smooth DJ-style patter was transmogrified into hollered boasts and wickedly funny rhymes. The crowning touch however is Eddie Martinez's tremendous guitar which cranks out a better riff than most rock bands had put out in years. But this is a new fusion, not no crossover, the loyalty is to hip-hop for sure when they bellow "Our DJ's* better than all these bands!" In a music scene that was become increasingly racially and culturally stratified, these guys reignited the musical miscegenation that started the whole rock and roll conflagration in the first place, something made even clearer by the song's excellent low-budget video, the first hip-hop clip to get aired on MTV (I so identified with and wanted to be that little white kid when I was 12).
*DJ Jason "Jam Master Jay" Mizell was tragically murdered in 2002 at age 37. RIP, JMJ
Many have said that "Rock Box" was the record where hip-hop made it's approach at rock and roll. I say it's the record where hip-hop proved it already was rock and roll. Through Darryl "DMC" McDaniels metal fandom, these three kids from the lower-middle-class black Queens enclave of Hollis had one foot in the world of the white rock kids who flocked to this record from the jump.
The costumes worn by earlier rappers were jettisoned in favor of jeans, Kangol hats and leather jackets, sending a clear message that this was no novelty act. Gone were the discofied cymbal based beats of earler rap discs, replaced by thunderous drumbeats(while still sacrificing nothing in terms of sheer funky groove), the smooth DJ-style patter was transmogrified into hollered boasts and wickedly funny rhymes. The crowning touch however is Eddie Martinez's tremendous guitar which cranks out a better riff than most rock bands had put out in years. But this is a new fusion, not no crossover, the loyalty is to hip-hop for sure when they bellow "Our DJ's* better than all these bands!" In a music scene that was become increasingly racially and culturally stratified, these guys reignited the musical miscegenation that started the whole rock and roll conflagration in the first place, something made even clearer by the song's excellent low-budget video, the first hip-hop clip to get aired on MTV (I so identified with and wanted to be that little white kid when I was 12).
*DJ Jason "Jam Master Jay" Mizell was tragically murdered in 2002 at age 37. RIP, JMJ
113. Ronnie Spector "She Talks To Rainbows"
When Spector, the former lead voice of the legendary Ronettes, covered this Ramones song on her late 1990's solo album, some might have thought it strange. Great matches come in strange places though. First of all, the Ramones, were one of the many surprising places her influence shows up (just listen to the choruses on stuff like "Oh Oh I Love Her So" and where do you think Joey learned to "oh-oh-oh....")
Fittingly, Spector uses the little girl lost lyric of Joey's as a counterbalance to the tough-girl image she was both imposed with and cultivated in her heyday. And after her disastrous marraige to bona fide psycho producer Phil Spector and bouts with alcoholism* she understands the story of the words enough that she sounds like she's singer to her former self, and in fine classic voice. And the minimal arrangement of strummed Rickenbackers and drumbeats shoes that as amazing as Phil's Wall Of Sound was, Ronnie didn't need it to sound like a goddess.
*For more detail read her excellent autobiography, Be My Baby
When Spector, the former lead voice of the legendary Ronettes, covered this Ramones song on her late 1990's solo album, some might have thought it strange. Great matches come in strange places though. First of all, the Ramones, were one of the many surprising places her influence shows up (just listen to the choruses on stuff like "Oh Oh I Love Her So" and where do you think Joey learned to "oh-oh-oh....")
Fittingly, Spector uses the little girl lost lyric of Joey's as a counterbalance to the tough-girl image she was both imposed with and cultivated in her heyday. And after her disastrous marraige to bona fide psycho producer Phil Spector and bouts with alcoholism* she understands the story of the words enough that she sounds like she's singer to her former self, and in fine classic voice. And the minimal arrangement of strummed Rickenbackers and drumbeats shoes that as amazing as Phil's Wall Of Sound was, Ronnie didn't need it to sound like a goddess.
*For more detail read her excellent autobiography, Be My Baby
114. Crystals "He's Sure The Boy I Love"
Love songs, especially those sung by and aimed at young women, too often offer silly knight-in-shining-armor romance novel fantasies that lead to disappointment and bitterness. This number, in grand rock and roll tradition, turns that all on it's head.
Leading off with auspicious sax and drums that explode into a gloriously huge Phil Spector Wall Of Sound production, Darlene Love (one of rock's finest female singers) declares her undying love for an average-looking unemployed Joe, and despite what modern talk-show self-help psychobabble would have you believe, this isn't 'acceptance' we're talking about here, as the jubilant chorus makes abundantly clear, she's not 'accepting' diddley-squat, she's celebrating. This song delivers, in beautiful sounding fashion, a central truth: you don't love someone because they're perfect, they're perfect because you love them.
Love songs, especially those sung by and aimed at young women, too often offer silly knight-in-shining-armor romance novel fantasies that lead to disappointment and bitterness. This number, in grand rock and roll tradition, turns that all on it's head.
Leading off with auspicious sax and drums that explode into a gloriously huge Phil Spector Wall Of Sound production, Darlene Love (one of rock's finest female singers) declares her undying love for an average-looking unemployed Joe, and despite what modern talk-show self-help psychobabble would have you believe, this isn't 'acceptance' we're talking about here, as the jubilant chorus makes abundantly clear, she's not 'accepting' diddley-squat, she's celebrating. This song delivers, in beautiful sounding fashion, a central truth: you don't love someone because they're perfect, they're perfect because you love them.
115. Rolling Stones "Gimme Shelter"
The Rolling Stones swaggered through the 1960's as rock and roll's ultimate bad boys, but as the decade wore on with riots, assassinations, seemingly unending war in southeast Asia, and drugs and alcohol decimating the music scene, doubt began to creep in as the apocalyptic tone of the times began to take it's toll (amazingly, this song was written before the concert disaster at Altamont, but the Stones must've sensed doom in the air or something) and self-doubt began creeping in. And no other song in rock expresses pure catacylsmic fear and terror like "Gimme Shelter."
Kicking off with an eerie vocal from guest singer Merry Clayton and a shivery guitar line that erupts periodically into a siren-like wail and bellow over drums that boom like distant artillery, Jagger delivers his most frayed and desperate vocal followed by Clayton's harrowing solo at the mike. The 60's may have past and the Stones may have become rich old men, but the atmosphere they decribe here has remained the constant backdrop of the modern world, and when any disaster occurs,(especially on 9/11) the chorus of this song echoes in my head. Jagger's final verse about love isn't so much an affirmation as a plea.
The Rolling Stones swaggered through the 1960's as rock and roll's ultimate bad boys, but as the decade wore on with riots, assassinations, seemingly unending war in southeast Asia, and drugs and alcohol decimating the music scene, doubt began to creep in as the apocalyptic tone of the times began to take it's toll (amazingly, this song was written before the concert disaster at Altamont, but the Stones must've sensed doom in the air or something) and self-doubt began creeping in. And no other song in rock expresses pure catacylsmic fear and terror like "Gimme Shelter."
Kicking off with an eerie vocal from guest singer Merry Clayton and a shivery guitar line that erupts periodically into a siren-like wail and bellow over drums that boom like distant artillery, Jagger delivers his most frayed and desperate vocal followed by Clayton's harrowing solo at the mike. The 60's may have past and the Stones may have become rich old men, but the atmosphere they decribe here has remained the constant backdrop of the modern world, and when any disaster occurs,(especially on 9/11) the chorus of this song echoes in my head. Jagger's final verse about love isn't so much an affirmation as a plea.
116. Southside Johnny & the Asbury Jukes "I Don't Want To Go Home"
Johnny Lyon, (nicknamed "Southside" because of his fondness for blues music from the south side of Chicago) was a Jersey Shore boy and an old friend and bandmate of Bruce Springsteen and company from the club days in Asbury Park. When Bruce began finding success, Johnny got a record contract and some major assisstance from Springsteen and especially their mutual pal E Street Band guitarist Miami Steve Van Zandt aka Little Steven, who wrote and produced this song right here.
The Boss' source material is mainly 50's rockabilly, garage rock and the Stones, but Johnny however found his inspiration in deep soul especially the brand coming from the Memphis label Stax. He was also blessed with a wonderfully gruff blue-eyed soul voice, and like the rest of the Springsteen axis, he had a fondness for taking classic mythology and turning it inside out. This record could be the dark flipside of Sam Cooke's "Havin' A Party"(which the Jukes do a fine cover of).
The swooping strings and snapping beat (and especially Johnny's singing) start off creating the perfect beachside dance atmosphere. That is until you listen to the words, and realize that's it's not a good time keeping him from going home, but an inability to face the broken relationship waiting for him there, which shows doubly in his singing. But in true Jersey Shore style, both the words and music cling to hope.
Johnny Lyon, (nicknamed "Southside" because of his fondness for blues music from the south side of Chicago) was a Jersey Shore boy and an old friend and bandmate of Bruce Springsteen and company from the club days in Asbury Park. When Bruce began finding success, Johnny got a record contract and some major assisstance from Springsteen and especially their mutual pal E Street Band guitarist Miami Steve Van Zandt aka Little Steven, who wrote and produced this song right here.
The Boss' source material is mainly 50's rockabilly, garage rock and the Stones, but Johnny however found his inspiration in deep soul especially the brand coming from the Memphis label Stax. He was also blessed with a wonderfully gruff blue-eyed soul voice, and like the rest of the Springsteen axis, he had a fondness for taking classic mythology and turning it inside out. This record could be the dark flipside of Sam Cooke's "Havin' A Party"(which the Jukes do a fine cover of).
The swooping strings and snapping beat (and especially Johnny's singing) start off creating the perfect beachside dance atmosphere. That is until you listen to the words, and realize that's it's not a good time keeping him from going home, but an inability to face the broken relationship waiting for him there, which shows doubly in his singing. But in true Jersey Shore style, both the words and music cling to hope.
117. Robert Johnson "Come On In My Kitchen"
Robert Johnson was, by far, the greatest and most influential of the blues singers to arise from the Mississippi Delta in the 1930's. Legend has it that he went to the last crossroads at midnight and sold his soul to the devil in exchange for incredible guitar prowess, but truth be told, as a poor black drifter in the '30's deep south with a penchant for trifling with other men's women his life had enough torment without bnringing in the dark forces.
This song is his most affecting, since along with terror it shows an odd despereate tenderness. Over his incredibly intricate guitar and in harrowing voice, Johnson the infamous bad man invites an ostracized paramour to come into his home. Both parties are plainly in for little good in this world and not much good for eachother, but they're the ones who will take eachother in. In more clinical language the situation so chillingly portrayed here could be called 'codependence' but another way of putting it would be 'bonded by doom.'
Robert Johnson was, by far, the greatest and most influential of the blues singers to arise from the Mississippi Delta in the 1930's. Legend has it that he went to the last crossroads at midnight and sold his soul to the devil in exchange for incredible guitar prowess, but truth be told, as a poor black drifter in the '30's deep south with a penchant for trifling with other men's women his life had enough torment without bnringing in the dark forces.
This song is his most affecting, since along with terror it shows an odd despereate tenderness. Over his incredibly intricate guitar and in harrowing voice, Johnson the infamous bad man invites an ostracized paramour to come into his home. Both parties are plainly in for little good in this world and not much good for eachother, but they're the ones who will take eachother in. In more clinical language the situation so chillingly portrayed here could be called 'codependence' but another way of putting it would be 'bonded by doom.'
118. Ricky Nelson "Hello Mary Lou"
When Ricky Nelson, the teenage son of TV's Ozzie & Harriet, like just about every other kid in 1950's America, caught the rock and roll bug, many took it as a sign that rock had been absorbed and was about to be diluted*. They figured wrong. Ricky was way too talented and way too into it to be some kind of Fabian. This song is a perennial oldies station fixture and with good reason. Ricky's smooth but urgent vocal, the clomping wood-block based rhythm and the infectious chorus all do their part superbly, but the star attraction here is James Burton's string bending guitar solo which set the mold for just about every rock axe-slinger to come after him. Burton later played with Elvis Presley and has been cited as an influence by guitarists ranging from Jimmy Page (Led Zeppelin have a fine version of this on their live How The West Was Won) to Matthew Sweet. But the appeal and importance of this record is more than simply historical. Over 45 years down the road, this record still manages to set toes a-tapping and faces smiling.
* as late as the 1980's I remember listening to a couple of rockabilly purists on a college radio station pissing and moaning about Nelson's induction to the Rock & Roll hall Of Fame, as if it meant civilization was crumbling. Philistines. Nelson's frustration with this kind of blinkered thinking led to his excellent 1970's comeback hit "Garden Party" which narrowly missed making this countdown and is definitely worth seeking out
When Ricky Nelson, the teenage son of TV's Ozzie & Harriet, like just about every other kid in 1950's America, caught the rock and roll bug, many took it as a sign that rock had been absorbed and was about to be diluted*. They figured wrong. Ricky was way too talented and way too into it to be some kind of Fabian. This song is a perennial oldies station fixture and with good reason. Ricky's smooth but urgent vocal, the clomping wood-block based rhythm and the infectious chorus all do their part superbly, but the star attraction here is James Burton's string bending guitar solo which set the mold for just about every rock axe-slinger to come after him. Burton later played with Elvis Presley and has been cited as an influence by guitarists ranging from Jimmy Page (Led Zeppelin have a fine version of this on their live How The West Was Won) to Matthew Sweet. But the appeal and importance of this record is more than simply historical. Over 45 years down the road, this record still manages to set toes a-tapping and faces smiling.
* as late as the 1980's I remember listening to a couple of rockabilly purists on a college radio station pissing and moaning about Nelson's induction to the Rock & Roll hall Of Fame, as if it meant civilization was crumbling. Philistines. Nelson's frustration with this kind of blinkered thinking led to his excellent 1970's comeback hit "Garden Party" which narrowly missed making this countdown and is definitely worth seeking out
119. Richard & Linda Thompson "I Want To See The Bright Lights Tonight"
Richard Thompson was a veteran of the group called Fairport Convention who were innovative in their mixture of rock and British Isles folk styles. After leaving, he met and married a singer named Linda Peters and they began recording together.
Rock and roll is full of songs about the weekend, but the British restraint in Linda's voice along with the meaty lumbering slouch of Richard's guitar makes this one especially evocative of the soul-sucking weariness of the work week. Here she sounds like an office manager dying to cast off her imposed role and simply be a human again. The chorus, evocative lyrics and great horn flourishes make for a terrific light at the end of the tunnel and sound of joy from the corner pub. "I'm gonna dream till Monday comes in sight" acknowledges the futility of escape giving it all a tinge of melancholy, but the siren call of the night out remains.
Richard Thompson was a veteran of the group called Fairport Convention who were innovative in their mixture of rock and British Isles folk styles. After leaving, he met and married a singer named Linda Peters and they began recording together.
Rock and roll is full of songs about the weekend, but the British restraint in Linda's voice along with the meaty lumbering slouch of Richard's guitar makes this one especially evocative of the soul-sucking weariness of the work week. Here she sounds like an office manager dying to cast off her imposed role and simply be a human again. The chorus, evocative lyrics and great horn flourishes make for a terrific light at the end of the tunnel and sound of joy from the corner pub. "I'm gonna dream till Monday comes in sight" acknowledges the futility of escape giving it all a tinge of melancholy, but the siren call of the night out remains.
