The Best of the 90s: Songs

I don't know why I find it so fun to write about music, specifically the best that I have to choose from as I browse my library on iTunes. Writing this makes me realize that even ten years ago I would have chosen a few different words: looking through my CD tower, flipping through my LP collection, etc. And even as our information-crazy world trudges onward into the limits of shared media, it's worth stopping to appreciate those simpler days when iPods, Pads, and Phones were still a sparkle in Steve Jobs' eye. So, without further ado, I present this week's blog topic: My choices for top ten tracks of the 1990s. I'll rank them according to both significance and quality, so this should give you a window into my taste and life. And again, if I haven't mentioned this before, my taste is impeccable.

10. Fake Plastic Trees, Radiohead, The Bends, 1993.

This is one of those tunes that introduced me to the quintet from Oxford, whom I now consider my all-time favorite band and some of the most genius songsmiths this side of Mozart and Mahler. Thom Yorke's pale, creepy stare aside, it opens in fashion of Radiohead's early days: subdued, introspective, and genuine. It's lyrics reflect a sort of numbness induced by consumerism, which was to overshadow the band's climb to fame and eventual transfiguration of their own sound with later albums. What we have here are the earliest hints of the developments in years to come: spacey, arhythmic electronics provide the backdrop of an otherwise orthodox ballad. My favorite part comes with the crescendo. Yorke trades his fragile tenor with his characteristic wail made famous on their earlier hit "Creep," and Jonny Greenwood introduces his snarling, frenetic guitar, which becomes volcanic during live performances. It all fades back to silence, yet not before returning with the whole band in for a final measure. It's all a recipe for postmodern bliss.

9. 1979, Smashing Pumpkins, Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness, 1995.

This track remains memorable for a few reasons. Say what you will about Billy Corgan's vocals: you have to admit that they are inviting and even affecting in this late-night, mysterious and pulsating track. I remember as a young child confused by the oblique echo at the song's opening (my Dad has me conviced it's "Tuna Fish"), but that just adds more to this song's status as a standout. The album suffers from being overlong and swollen with Corgan's egoism, but a few songs shine with that mid-90s idealistic splendor. There are no raging guitar surges on "1979", just the continuum of Jimmy Chamberlain's subdued drumming, Billy's voice, and a flashback to the good old days.

8. Viðrar Vel Til Loftárása, Sigur Ros, Ágaetis Byrjun, 1999.

Sigur Ros have stuck with me since my early college days as one of those musical experiences that really are just that: experiences. The sweeping vision of their sound came to us from Iceland back in the late 1990s along with the other cold-weather post rockers like Mogwai, with whom they were often unfairly compared. Take a listen to this track's companions, and you'll be surprised by how well they stand up. Many of these songs were played when I saw them in concert a few weeks ago, relatively unchanged by time. I think this song encapsulates the band's truest spirit: distortion on intro, fading to haunting piano, and swelling upwards into the clouds, which finally break in a breathtaking climax of bowed guitars, falsetto vocals, and beautiful strings. The music video is controversial, sure, but it is a fitting companion to the types of emotions that are waiting to be unleashed as you listen.

7. Doo-Wop (That Thing), Lauryn Hill, The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill, 1997. 

It remains difficult for me to not include more R&B in this selection, but truth be told, it took me longer to warm up to the sounds of syncopated drums, round bass, and spoken word than the language of grunge and guitar. The most notable exception is with Ms. Hill, who took the world by storm upon the release of her colossal Miseducation, which remains one of the most significant records of the decade. This single was blasted over the airwaves for good reason. Love-worn Hill trades vicious sparring through rap (courtesy, no doubt, of her days with the Fugees) with her signature singing. All of this over a deliciously insistent piano groove punctuated by horns, and you've got a classic. It's catchy, confrontational, and one-of-a kind. Too bad she hasn't really returned since; the world is a less musically rich place because of her. Damn! Even the video takes me back!

6. Corazón Espinado, Santana feat. Maná, Supernatural, 1999

There are rarely moments when the collision of two talented groups makes for anything extraordinary. Long gone are the days when Cream, Led Zeppelin, and Derek could crank out hits and still maintain artistic cred. Don't believe me? Remember Velvet Revolver? Santana's return to the spotlight at the close of the 1990s heralded a new ownership of collaboration that extends beyond the lines of traditional hip-hop and R&B, where the phenomenon thrives. This tune is a standout on an otherwise stellar collection featuring other greats like Dave Matthews, Lauryn Hill, and Eric Clapton. Although it may sound eerily like the mega-hit "Smooth" on first listen, the addition of Mexican stars Maná make for a superior track, even better than Rob Thomas.' It's danceable, jammable, and will wiggle its way into your head faster than Pher can yell "echele Carlitos!"

5. Loser, Beck, Mellow Gold, 1993.

One of those cultural oddities that nobody saw coming, Beck nevertheless has claimed a spot in our collective conscious as a voice of Generation-X. Right alongside Cobain and Tarantino, he was able to interpret reality in a totally unique way, and somehow brought us along for the ride. The most famous track is Loser, which clings to the use of garbled Spanglish and absurd lyrics like "Drive-by body pierce" to express...well, who the hell knows what. I think that's the point. Over a mantra-like repeating guitar slide and drum loop, we reach musical Nirvana. It's no wonder I had this as my ringtone for so long before my girlfriend made me change it because it was "too depressing." Thanks to Beck, we can be proud of our self-deprecation!

4. En El Muelle de San Blás, Maná, Sueños Líquidos, 1997.

If you sing any one bar of this song on the street with Mexican-American young people around, I'll bet you my missionary stipend that they will jump into obnoxious and overloud sing-along. In fact, if you are lucky enough to ever see the Mexican superstars in an arena or stadium venue, you'll probably hear half of the songs sung by the audience. Although Maná are typically known for their sappy, indulgent balladry and reggae-rock vibes a-la The Police, these guys turn a surprisingly poetic and dramatic tune out of an already stellar album. The arpeggiated guitar is one of those classic intros of rock history, and when Pher finally sings the iconic words ¡Se Quedó!, you'll believe him. If you haven't been living under a rock, you should know about this band and their influence inside and outside of the Latinosphere. But just in case, this provides a good gateway into the flourishing Rock en Español genre that really reached its heyday with that lovesick woman waiting on the pier.

3. Until the End of the World, U2, Achtung Baby, 1991.

Most people identify Bono and company with their sky-high, arena-ready sounds from 1987's The Joshua Tree, or their 2000s revival and subsequent reclamation of the title "Biggest band in the world." Many forget that the band underwent an excruciating period of self-consciousness in the wake of their scathingly received rock-doc Rattle and Hum, which portrayed the band as a group of overly absorbed megalomaniacs undeserving of their fame. The band checked into Berlin's Hansa Studios in late 1990 to rediscover their creativity. The result almost tore the band apart. A difficult divorce shattered the Edge and left the band in pieces, with long sessions of writers block and scrapped mixes left on the cutting floor. Only after the breakthrough in writing the most iconic song of the album ("One," of course) did the album come together. I regard the result as the greatest collection of U2 songs ever. "Until the End of the World" highlights the best of the creative energy born from dissonance in particular. It's sung from the perspective of Judas, betraying Jesus in dramatic language: "In my dreams I was drowning in sorrows/but my sorrows they learned to swim..." Edge is at work trading his characteristic delay-tinged chime with a wammy pedal, sending surges of octave-jumping chords into the stratosphere. Give it a listen and rediscover the best of the album that saved U2.

2. Semi-Charmed Life, Third Eye Blind, Third Eye Blind, 1997.

I'll be the first to admit that I am a sucker for that great gift of the 90's: the ironic alternative pop tune. Look over the Hits charts of the middle 90s years and you'll rediscover bands like the Gin Blossoms and Toad the Wet Sprocket that cemented the alternative rock genre into the mainstream. San Francisco's Third Eye Blind took a different approach, surprisingly close to the more folk-tinged Counting Crows from across the bay, relying on dramatic imagery, impassioned delivery, and singalong choruses to employ a sort of bleak, ironic joy onto depressing twenty-something alienation. No wonder I still love to listen to these guys! Their eponymous 1997 album is the best of the band's offerings, a tight collection of songs that all stand up on their own. My own guitar style owes largely to the tremendously under appreciated talent of Kevin Cadogan, who provides stunningly creative licks to the backdrop of Steve Jenkin's emotive wails. Semi-Charmed was the band's biggest hit, and no-doubt you're already humming the hook "Doo Doo Doo..." that provides half of the chorus. I memorized all of the half-rapped verses as an eight-year old child. You can imagine my surprise as an adult when I heard the song again! It's a retrospective lament about the days gone past spent in a drug and sex induced haze. Cocaine, crystal meth...all apparently make for a great moment frozen in the 1990s for all of us to remember, whether we like it or not!

1. Paranoid Android, Radiohead, OK Computer, 1997.

Although it's not even my personal favorite tune from this album, no list of mine mentioning songs of the 1990s would be complete without this colossal testament to the creative energy of Radiohead. With this album, the band would turn years of insecurity in rock fame into a propulsion into uncharted rock territory that countless imitators would cover. Everyone from Coldplay to Kanye count these guys as influences, and they owe their own success to this pioneering feat of art written with guitars and polyrhythmic beats. With "Paranoid", the band heralds the death of the guitar as the lilting acoustics of the first act yield to the razor-sharp distortion of the middle section, finally exploding in a jaw-dropping, angular, and non-linear guitar solo that remains inimitable. The song appears to implode into a dreamy chant as Yorke wails "Rain down" while continuing to offer terrifying imagery ("The crackle of pigskin..."). Then the distortion returns in force as the band ramps up for a closing jam as electrifying as the first. For all that I admire Jonny Greenwood, his style and expression are simply out of my reach. I have to rely on the simpler mechanics of bowed guitar or blues licks to expand my own talent. His is still surging out of orbit. Critics will point to earlier creative forays by the Beatles ("Happiness is a Warm Gun") to provide influences. But unlike the White Album, this song did not signal the end of Radiohead's creative era. Instead, it launched the band to the edges of prophetic music, inhabiting territory that they continue to shape and mold.