Pitchfork

Welcome to the second day of Pitchfork's week-long countdown of the 200 Greatest Songs of the 1960s. Today we track up to #101, reserving coverage of the top 100 for the latter half of the week, before finally revealing the 20 best this Friday.

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150. Bob Dylan: "It's Alright Ma, I'm Only Bleeding"
(Bob Dylan)
1965
Chart info: U.S. (N/A), UK (N/A)
Available on Bringing It All Back Home

 

 

In many respects, "It's Alright, Ma" was Dylan's last word on overt protest music, and he channeled this comprehensive social diatribe with such otherworldly fury that it seemed to awe even himself. "I don't know how I got to write those songs," he told Ed Bradley in a 2004 "60 Minutes" interview. "Try and sit down and write something like that." --Matthew Murphy

149. Archie Bell & the Drells: "Tighten Up"
(Archie Bell/Billy Butler)
1968
Chart info: U.S. (#1), UK (N/A)
Available on Tighten Up

 

 

Prozac on wax-- one of the simplest, most joyous soul-shouting dance numbers of the decade, built on the only chords that matter. The Drells send their major sevenths strutting and scratching back and forth like they know they've found the perfect groove, and the whole thing just beams; you'd be hard pressed to find someone who can hear it without smiling back. --Nitsuh Abebe

148. The Velvet Underground: "Sister Ray"
(John Cale/Sterling Morrison/Lou Reed/Maureen Tucker)
1967
Chart info: U.S. (N/A), UK (N/A)
Available on White Light/White Heat

 

 

It may clock in at 17 minutes, but "Sister Ray" is rock 'n' roll debased to it purest, most puerile form: blow jobs, smack, and a ceaseless riff that sounds like "96 Tears" getting cooked in a spoon. Some 26 years later, Jon Spencer would claim, "My father was Sister Ray!" He's just one of a million garage-rock deviants with a claim to child support. --Stuart Berman

147. Nina Simone: "Sinnerman"
(Traditional)
1964
Chart info: U.S. (N/A), UK (N/A)
Available on The Best of Nina Simone

 

 

It's the end of the world and whoever sings this spiritual is trying to find a way out. Simone, raised in church, understands the scriptural underpinnings and sounds like she's riding her piano into town with a column of flame trailing 10 feet behind her. "Urgent" doesn't begin to describe it. --Mark Richardson

146. Terry Riley: "In C"
(Terry Riley)
1968
Chart info: U.S. (N/A), UK (N/A)
Available on In C

 

 

Where Steve Reich's 1974 modern classical piece "Music for 18 Musicians" throws up a wall of sound that even a packing Phil Spector would have trouble penetrating, Terry Riley's "In C" hangs like a beaded curtain. Here, minimalism isn't some totalizing force but a loose scrim dividing sound from silence, music from chaos, and chance from design, as the players attack cell-based arrangements like tipsy bingo players throwing chips to the wind. --Philip Sherburne

145. Tammy Wynette: "Stand by Your Man"
(Billy Sherrill/Tammy Wynette)
1968
Chart info: U.S. (#19), UK (#1)
Available on Stand by Your Man

 

 

Listening to Tammy Wynette's hit song now, it's tough to decide who's being insulted more-- the wife who should forgive her philandering husband, or the husband who, being "just a man," apparently can't keep his libido in check. Regardless, the track's hallmarks-- swinging rhythm, teary steel guitar, and aching vocals-- are definitive, making it one of the most popular and best-loved songs country music has yet produced. --Cory D. Byrom

144. Bobbie Gentry: "Ode to Billie Joe"
(Bobbie Gentry)
1967
Chart info: U.S. (#1), UK (N/A)
Available on An American Quilt: 1967-1974

 

 

Our "Law & Order"-corroded minds can all-too-easily guess what the singer and Billie Joe tossed off the bridge that night, but this Southern Gothic story-song is still a creeping horror, for the way Gentry teases out each character's reactions to a tragedy-- and for the dread that sinks in with every revelation. --Chris Dahlen

143. Scott Walker: "Big Louise"
(Scott Walker)
1969
Chart info: U.S. (N/A), UK (N/A)
Available on Scott 3

 

 

With his trembling baritone croon and God's string section by his side, Scott Walker skillfully straddles the line between true pathos and nauseating bathos. With the weight he imparts to lyrics that are both clumsy scraps of poesy and poignant images ("She's a haunted house/ And her windows are broken"), it doesn't matter if the song is about an aging prostitute or his favorite soup spoon-- he sings this sad tale as if it's escaping upon his very last breath. --David Raposa

142. Procol Harum: "A Whiter Shade of Pale"
(Gary Brooker/Keith Reid)
1967
Chart info: U.S. (#5), UK (#1)
Available on The Best of Procol Harum

 

 

This song, given a bit more than its fair share of exposure via high school dances and movie previews, is nevertheless a pristine example of how far a great melody and chord progression will take you. It doesn't matter that it's a Bach rip, or that nobody really knows what Gary Brooker is singing about. --Dominique Leone

141. The Supremes: "Baby Love"
(Lamont Dozier/Brian Holland/Eddie Holland)
1964
Chart info: U.S. (#1), UK (#1)
Available on The Ultimate Collection

 

 

The four-bar intro, the ponying piano rhythms, a young Diana Ross' naifish vocals, the sugary vocal callbacks, the key change; simple economy of songwriting was one of Motown's defining characteristics, but few tracks from the label's golden era came as perfectly packaged as this one. --Mark Pytlik

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140. Donovan: "Season of the Witch"
(Donovan)
1966
Chart info: U.S. (N/A), UK (N/A)
Available on Sunshine Superman

 

 

Better known as a dippy, soft-spoken mystic, Donovan's claws came out for "Season of the Witch". This psych-pop seether indicts the singer's own folkie utopia ("Beatniks are out to make it rich," he growls) with toothy licks and an organ sheen that may or may not have been courtesy of Jimmy Page and John Paul Jones. --Brian Howe

139. The Impressions: "People Get Ready"
(Curtis Mayfield)
1965
Chart info: U.S. (#14), UK (N/A)
Available on The Very Best of the Impressions

 

 

This song's sense of strained optimism, of hope in the face of overwhelming sadness, is almost impossibly gorgeous. Everything floats: Curtis Mayfield's coo, the bluesy guitar, the lighter-than-air strings. When I die and I'm walking toward a faraway glimmer of light, I want this to be the soundtrack. --Tom Breihan

138. The Righteous Brothers: "Unchained Melody"
(Alex North/Hy Zaret)
1968
Chart info: U.S. (#4, #13 for 1990 reissue), UK (#14, #1 for 1990 reissue)
Available on Anthology 1962-1974

 

"Unchained Melody" is an unparalled slow dance song. It keeps turning and unfolding, like an endless, ever-growing love...and yeah, it's sappy, and deathly sincere. But it's also stately, and undeniable. Like a great bridge that's been shot in front of too many sunsets, it can still get to you-- depending on your date. --Chris Dahlen

137. The Dixie Cups: "Iko Iko"
(Jeff Barry/Ellie Greenwich)
1965
Chart info: U.S. (#20), UK (#23)
Available on The Very Best of the Dixie Cups: Chapel of Love

 

 

Part schoolyard taunt, part Mardi Gras chant, part found-sound experiment, "Iko Iko" was allegedly born when New Orleans' Dixie Cups started singing a hometown melody during downtime in the studio, accompanying themselves by hitting an ashtray, a bottle, and a chair for percussion. Not until the reign of the Neptunes would anything this weirdly minimal again reach the top of the charts. --Amy Phillips

136. Jimi Hendrix: "Voodoo Child (Slight Return)"
(Jimi Hendrix)
1968
Chart info: U.S. (N/A), UK (#1)
Available on Electric Ladyland

 

 

The stock of the Legendary Rock Titans is taking a dip as idols of the 1960s are replaced on classic rock radio playlists by various Sammy Hagar projects, but I refuse to live in a world where "Voodoo Child" is left behind. This rocks God even when He's playing hard to get. --Dominique Leone

135. The Kinks: "Shangri-La"
(Ray Davies)
1969
Chart info: U.S. (N/A), UK (N/A)
Available on Arthur (Or the Decline and Fall of the British Empire)

 

 

"Shangri-La" makes the quotidian epic, blowing up the fireside rocking chair ride of the pensioner and the commute of the indebted laborer into a cinemascope portrait of the British middle class. It's not all tea and sympathy: Check the charging middle eight, as vicious a smackdown of the complacent life as any. --Joe Tangari

134. Brian Wilson: "Surf's Up (solo piano version)"
(Van Dyke Parks/Brian Wilson)
1966
Chart info: U.S. (N/A), UK (N/A)
Available on Good Vibrations: Thirty Years of the Beach Boys

 

The lonely boy in his room finally gets the baroque and puzzling lyrics his most complex music deserves. For all the Phil Spector worship and industry cash lavished on fireman's hats-- and once you get past the cutesy intro-- "Surf's Up" shows all Brian needed was a piano to knock you on your can. --Mark Richardson

133. The Monkees: "I'm a Believer"
(Neil Diamond)
1966
Chart info: U.S. (#1), UK (#1)
Available on More of the Monkees

 

 

With some of the most recognizable opening notes in pop music, this Neil Diamond-penned gem showcases everything the Monkees had to offer: The melody is infectious, the chorus begs for a sing-along, and by the end, Mickey Dolenz' vocals are as impassioned as anyone's. --Cory D. Byrom

132. Louis Armstrong: "What a Wonderful World"
(Bob Thiele/George David Weiss)
1968
Chart info: U.S. (#116, #32 for 1988 reissue), UK (#1)
Available on The Very Best of Louis Armstrong

 

 

There's a battle in here. Without that C# major chord-- the one that hits on "and I think to myself"-- you might never know it. But in that teetering moment before the chord's resolution, "What a Wonderful World" makes a subtle heartbreaking gesture to all the darkness rapping at its door (bigotry, weariness, defeat), in turn making it just hard enough for you, the listener, to entirely dismiss its optimism, at which moment the battle becomes yours. --Mark Pytlik

131. The Byrds: "I'll Feel a Whole Lot Better"
(Gene Clark)
1965
Chart info: U.S. (N/A), UK (N/A)
Available on Mr. Tambourine Man

 

 

Of all the songwriters who rose with the Byrds-- Roger McGuinn, David Crosby, Gram Parsons-- Gene Clark is the least decorated. But that's OK-- in just 2:35 he basically invents modern power-pop, showing a generation of underdogs (from Big Star to Tom Petty to Teenage Fanclub) how to hide their spite in a joyous, jangly Rickenbacker chord. --Stuart Berman

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130. John Coltrane: "My Favorite Things"
(Oscar Hammerstein II/Richard Rodgers)
1960
Chart info: U.S. (N/A), UK (N/A)
Available on My Favorite Things

 

 

John Coltrane never stopped finding new things in this song. By Live in Japan it was going on for an hour with blistering solos that could peel paint. But this first take is delicate and lyrical, soft but never frail. And the key change after the chorus is among the most joyous sounds in recorded music. --Mark Richardson

129. Harry Nilsson: "Everybody's Talkin'"
(Fred Neil)
1968
Chart info: U.S. (#6), UK (#23)
Available on Aerial Ballet

 

 

It's still shocking to me that Nilsson didn't write the harrowing "Everybody's Talkin'". A notoriously conflicted guy, Nilsson recorded the Fred Neil song for his 1968 album Aerial Ballet, but it didn't blow until it became the theme for the 1969 film Midnight Cowboy. It remains one of the truest recordings of emotional distress ever recorded. Too bad Forrest Gump screwed it up for everyone. --Sean Fennessey

128. Buffalo Springfield: "For What It's Worth"
(Stephen Stills)
1967
Chart info: U.S. (#7), UK (N/A)
Available on Retrospective: The Best of Buffalo Springfield

 

Originally a Stephen Stills track about a club closing in West Hollywood, "For What It's Worth"-- like Bob Dylan's "Blowin' in the Wind"-- ended up more symbol than song. Neil Young's insistent, single-note echoes are the sound of a conflict begun; the sides are forgotten-- only the flavor of dissatisfaction and dissent remains. --Zach Baron

127. George Jones: "She Thinks I Still Care"
(Steve Duffy/Dickey Lee Lipscomb)
1962
Chart info: U.S. (N/A), UK (N/A)
Available on The Best of George Jones (1955-1967)

 

 

Elvis Presley and the Flying Burrito Brothers have recorded this masterpiece of self-delusion, but it forever belongs to Jones. Not only is he able to wring out every drop of sad-sack pathos but he's able to do so with enough natural charisma for listeners to fully sympathize with the song's vaguely creepy proto-stalker narrator. --Matthew Murphy

126. Led Zeppelin: "What Is and What Should Never Be"
(Jimmy Page/Robert Plant)
1969
Chart info: U.S. (N/A), UK (N/A)
Available on Led Zeppelin II

 

Skip the circular medieval hippie-isms, the coital dynamics, the pinging flytrap slide solo, and Plant's underwater sound effects for a moment. Skip to the 3:33 mark, right when it seems about to disembark. At that exact point, just try not to flail off Page's staccato sucker punch. --Ryan Dombal

125. Miles Davis: "Shhh/Peaceful"
(Miles Davis)
1969
Chart info: U.S. (N/A), UK (N/A)
Available on In a Silent Way

 

 

From Davis' cosmic In a Silent Way, "Shhh/Peaceful" forecast a time when only the blur of motion and pulsating waves of rhythm could describe what was happening outside one's window (or through one's monitor). Musically, it's colored with blue ambience and the electric ghosts of drone. But is it jazz? Nobody cares. --Dominique Leone

124. The Velvet Underground: "Venus in Furs"
(Lou Reed)
1967
Chart info: U.S. (N/A), UK (N/A)
Available on The Velvet Underground & Nico

 

 

John Cale's screechy viola buzzes like a beeline through trebled guitars and Maureen Tucker's slow-plod drums. Lou Reed's lyrics reference Leopold von Sacher-Masoch's 19th century novel, Venus in Furs, in language and imagery that matches (and then laps) that book's late-romanticism: "Whiplash girl child in the dark/ Clubs and bells, your servant, don't forsake him/ Strike, dear mistress, and cure his heart." The sound is lusciously decadent. The march itself feels so perversely languorous-- a parade for fur-wearing women and those who desire to submit to them. --Brandon Stosuy

123. The Supremes: "I Hear a Symphony"
(Lamont Dozier/Brian Holland/Eddie Holland)
1965
Chart info: U.S. (#1), UK (#39)
Available on The Ultimate Collection

 

 

You can't blame Holland-Dozier-Holland if this sounds like "Where Did Our Love Go?"-- after a rare lackluster performance by a Supremes single, Berry Gordy released an inter-Motown memo telling his staff that this group will release nothing less than #1 singles. In response, one of the greatest songwriting teams in American history wrote a soaring anthem that encapsulated the greatness of their entire body of work within one perfect three-minute single that, naturally, reached the top of the charts. --David Raposa

122. Patsy Cline: "I Fall to Pieces"
(Hank Cochran/Harlan Howard)
1961
Chart info: U.S. (#12), UK (N/A)
Available on 12 Greatest Hits

 

 

Patsy Cline had a "one of the guys" reputation-- she supposedly could drink, cuss, and fight with the best of them. You'd never know it from this weepy pop-country gem. Of strong personal significance for Cline, "I Fall to Pieces" allowed her to break through on her own terms; the walking bass, dry snare, and vocal harmonies were the perfect backdrop for a booming voice that was best heard on heartbreakers. --Cory D. Byrom

121. Glen Campbell: "Wichita Lineman"
(Jimmy Webb)
1968
Chart info: U.S. (#3), UK (#7)
Available on The Glen Campbell Collection (1962-1989): Gentle on My Mind

 

Campbell's 1968 hit, penned by Jimmy Webb, helped define his career with its slick production and strong melody. The underlying sadness in his smooth vocals was pure country, but the sweeping strings and sparkling production were a fresh pop addition. --Cory D. Byrom

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120. ? and the Mysterians: "96 Tears"
(Rudy Martinez)
1966
Chart info: U.S. (#1), UK (N/A)
Available on Cameo Parkway 1957-1967

 

 

On the smartest/dumbest two-note Farfisa riff in history, "96 Tears" went to No. 1 at a time when a couple of shifty looking guys from Saginaw, Mich., with a shaky grasp on rock'n'roll could do such a thing. I read somewhere, possibly apocryphally, that once at a Suicide show before they performed "96 Tears", Alan Vega screamed "your national anthem, whether you know it or not!" Works for me. --Jess Harvell

119. Silver Apples: "Oscillations"
(Simeon/Warren Stanley)
1968
Chart info: U.S. (N/A), UK (N/A)
Available on Silver Apples

 

 

Where Morton Subotnick's "Silver Apples of the Moon" congealed, the Silver Apples' shiny electro-acoustic baubles actively grooved. Their penchant for quivering electronics-- and the self-conscious content of their lyrics, paying tribute to same-- laid the groundwork for Krautrock (not to mention American Tapes) with a dazzling, not-quite-three minutes of tribal drumming, gamelan timbres, folky modal harmonies, train whistles-- and of course those pesky waveforms, oscillating wildly. --Philip Sherburne

118. The Bobby Fuller Four: "I Fought the Law"
(Sonny Curtis)
1966
Chart info: U.S. (#9), UK (#33)
Available on The Best of the Bobby Fuller Four

 

 

Bobby Fuller sits in the prison yard with not a hair or a note out of place, and his guitar shines like the sparks off the bullet that ended his life as a free man. As cool a killer as any in rockabilly, he makes the sing-along confession of the title iconic in a song that's fast, hostile and, doomed-- just as Fuller's own legend was sealed when he was found dead at the height of his stardom, in a suicide that's still believed to be murder. --Chris Dahlen

117. Ben E. King: "Stand By Me"
(Ben E. King/Jerry Leiber/Mike Stoller)
1961
Chart info: U.S. (#4), UK (#27)
Available on The Very Best of Ben E. King

 

 

I always thought this song was longer. King's telling us that he can endure the end of the world if he has the love of a good woman. But with that steadfast bassline behind him, he doesn't sound like he needs help-- just that he's looking for a more perfect union, the kind of love that makes us more than just men and women. You hear what that sounds like in the strings, which are almost too beautiful-- and stop right before they get mushy. --Chris Dahlen

116. Jefferson Airplane: "White Rabbit"
(Grace Slick)
1967
Chart info: U.S. (#8), UK (N/A)
Available on Surrealistic Pillow

 

 

Don't pay attention to the lyrics. Just don't. Pay attention to the snaking guitar line, the bolero beat, and Grace Slick's tremulous voice. And even if you hate hippies as much as I do, pay attention to the closing crescendo. It slays everything in its path: hippies, punks, yuppies, metalheads, even Jefferson Starship. --Amy Phillips

115. The Kinks: "Victoria"
(Ray Davies)
1969
Chart info: U.S. (N/A), UK (#33)
Available on Arthur (Or the Decline and Fall of the British Empire)

 

With "Victoria", Ray Davies turns the social critique that always lurks in his songcraft to take on, well, the history of the British Empire-- in under four minutes. And as the song moves from wistfully nostalgic verses to soaring, patriotic choruses, he pretty much nails it. God save the Kinks. --John Motley

114. Nancy Sinatra: "These Boots Are Made for Walkin'"
(Lee Hazlewood)
1966
Chart info: U.S. (#1), UK (#1)
Available on Boots

 

The descending bassline that opens the song feels like a playground taunt, and so does everything else: Sinatra's blithe and flirty delivery, the skeletal tambourines, even the glorious, stomping horn riff that bursts into the song in its final 20 seconds. "Boots" is maybe the finest bitchy kiss-off in pop history. Take notes. --Tom Breihan

113. The Easybeats: "Friday on My Mind"
(Henry Vanda/George Young)
1965
Chart info: U.S. (#16), UK (#6)
Available on The Very Best of the Easybeats

 

 

Bursting out in fab psychedelic Technicolor, Australia's Easybeats sounded the horn for anyone who's ever pined for the weekend. Angels at the chorus go, "toniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiggggghhhht," and if only for a few seconds, tease visions of the city and everything that's going to happen there. "Friday on My Mind" is the jam. --Dominique Leone

112. Steve Reich: "It's Gonna Rain"
(Steve Reich)
1965
Chart info: U.S. (N/A), UK (N/A)
Available on Early Works

 

 

Steve Reich's most famous tape-loop finds a frothing black-magic Pentecostal minister prepping for street-riot Armageddon. With the assistance of Reich's gap-ridden tape splicing, his voice transforms into a series of beeps, springs, fans, and artillery fire. Occasionally, it approaches something that resembles serrated doo-wop or the Psycho theme. Fluttering pigeons turn into marching boots. Despite all the violence, "It's Gonna Rain" is a testament to man's ability to wrest melody from speech and rhythm from insanity. --Alex Linhardt

111. Stevie Wonder: "I Was Made to Love Her"
(Henry Cosby/Lula Mae Hardaway/Sylvia Moy/Stevie Wonder)
1968
Chart info: U.S. (#2), UK (#5)
Available on I Was Made to Love Her

 

For much of his career no one could fill the world with silly love songs as superlatively as Stevie Wonder. The sunshine soul of 1967's "I Was Made to Love Her" easily shows up the emptiness of most modern melisma, as the 16-year-old singer's churchy rejoicing lends a happy ending to a choir-and-harmonica Romeo and Juliet tale of parental disapproval and all-conquering hubba-hubba. --Marc Hogan

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110. The Four Tops: "It's the Same Old Song"
(Lamont Dozier/Eddie Holland/Brian Holland)
1965
Chart info: U.S. (#5), UK (#34)
Available on The Ultimate Collection

 

 

Oh, that groove-- it's so irresistible an entire orchestra had to get involved. Levi Stubbs pumps anguish into the tortured lyric about a guy who can't escape the song he and his girl once shared. Once loved, now it's the pain in his heart going out on the airwaves. --Joe Tangari

109. The Byrds: "Eight Miles High"
(Gene Clark/David Crosby/Roger McGuinn)
1966
Chart info: U.S. (#14), UK (#24)
Available on Fifth Dimension

 

 

Calling this psychedelia's greatest pop moment will probably ignite a shitstorm from the peanut gallery, but what the hell, I'll say it anyway. Normal adjectives like "serpentine" do violence to the guitar playing on "Eight Miles High"; 12 strings manage to snare John Coltrane modal chaos, Indian ragas, and chiming bucolic folk. Not bettered by the (very fine) Hüsker Dü cover, even for those like me who prefer their freakouts to sound like heavy weather. --Jess Harvell

108. Harry Nilsson: "One"
(Harry Nilsson)
1968
Chart info: U.S. (N/A), UK (N/A)
Available on Aerial Ballet

 

 

It opens with a single note over and over and we know the song immediately, no matter who's performing it. I grew up on Three Dog Night's r&b bombast so returning to Harry's original I forget how wispy and ethereal this tune could be. Definitely the loneliest version out there. --Mark Richardson

107. Bob Dylan: "Visions of Johanna"
(Bob Dylan)
1966
Chart info: U.S. (N/A), UK (N/A)
Available on Blonde on Blonde

 

 

A song that never really ends, about a girl he's never really gonna find, in a place that he'll never really leave. Joins fellow Dylan track "Stuck Inside of Mobile With the Memphis Blues Again" as one of the most immaculate songs about being eternally, existentially, stuck in the same place. "He's sure got a lot of gall, being so useless and all..." --Zach Baron

106. Desmond Dekker & the Aces: "007 (Shanty Town)"
(Desmond Dekker)
1967
Chart info: U.S. (N/A), UK (#14)
Available on Rockin' Steady: The Best of Desmond Dekker

 

The King of Ska brought this loping anthem, about rudeboys that "bomb up de town," to hordes of tenderfoots. But with a voice as compact and emotive as his, Dekker was capable of enrapturing even the biggest xenophobe. The only reason people can get away with loving ska is still Dekker. --Sean Fennessey

105. Simon & Garfunkel: "America"
(Paul Simon)
1968
Chart info: U.S. (#97), UK (#25)
Available on Bookends

 

 

A short, wistful trip, Bookends' soft-focus acoustic highlight "America" wasn't actually a single until it appeared on 1972's Greatest Hits. Whenever. Dewily harmonious Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel do the she's-leaving-home myth maybe half as good as Nabokov, but it's priceless for the gabardine spy alone. --Marc Hogan

104. King Crimson: "21st Century Schizoid Man"
(Robert Fripp/Michael Giles/Greg Lake/Ian McDonald/Peter Sinfield)
1969
Chart info: U.S. (N/A), UK (N/A)
Available on In the Court of the Crimson King

 

King Crimson announced itself to the world with this seven-minute hellstorm of gonzo guitar, shifting meters, and nasty sax. Greg Lake sounds like he's being eaten by robots, and there's hardly anything more fantastically filthy than Robert Fripp and Ian McDonald's opening guitar/sax riff. --Joe Tangari

103. Merle Haggard: "Mama Tried"
(Merle Haggard)
1968
Chart info: U.S. (N/A), UK (N/A)
Available on Down Every Road

 

Why David Allan Coe felt the need to pen the perfect country song (his attempt was the 1975 hit "You Never Even Called Me by My Name") is baffling, as Haggard had done it seven years previous. It's all here: trains, prison, mama, and the outlaw thread that ran through the country movement for most of the 70s. --Cory D. Byrom

102. Sly & the Family Stone: "Everyday People"
(Sylvester "Sly Stone" Stewart)
1969
Chart info: U.S. (#1), UK (#36)
Available on Stand!

 

 

Family Stone member Larry Graham claims that the first chart-topping single from one of the first racially integrated mainstream bands also includes the first instance of slap bass. Sly smoothed out his incendiary funk into a couple minutes of gently buoyant pop leavened with nursery-rhyme bridges and soaring choruses, bringing his message of tolerance to less adventurous ears. --Brian Howe

101. Pink Floyd: "See Emily Play"
(Syd Barrett)
1967
Chart info: U.S. (N/A), UK (#6)
Available on Relics

 

 

The highest-charting Syd Barrett-era Floyd single, and the recently deceased star's most accessible song, "See Emily Play" evokes lost childhood as bluntly as anything in his repertoire-- it gets wistful right on the second line-- but the stabs of steel guitar and the sped-up piano solo transcend cliché. --Chris Dahlen