ISSUE #343
In 2021, I wrestled with the impossible: I isolated the 100 greatest songs ever written.
Five years later, I'm ready to reckon with the terror I hath wrought—it’s time to expand the list from 100 to 200. That’s right: we’re adding a cool hundred to the Earwyrms Canon.
Part of the joy of making the first list has been hearing them often, out and about, and getting to say, “This is one of the 100.” Yet, just as often, I hear a song that narrowly missed the list—or one that I wished I’d had time to consider at all before I cemented it in history.
That’s exactly when I realized—it’s time to break some rules. There’s far more room in heaven than I’d initially thought.
“Movin’ On Up” | Primal Scream
1991
A gospel-fueled channeling of some divine transcendence? Or a cover-up cry for help from someone high as hell? At face value, this is the greatest spring song, a bring-on-the-sun pick-me-up. The more you listen, the more irony jumps out—it’s all too close to a come-up to be taken soberly. There’s darkness here that speaks to how close addiction is to God.
“Web in Front” | Archers of Loaf
1993
A paragon of progression, as songwriting goes. Listen to the phases of the drums; listen to the beat delayed before the bass comes in: “You’re not the one who let me down / but thanks for offering.” The lyrics are lucid dreams, watercolors of the greatest love song ever written. Its ending exemplifies something that always catches my heart—dueling vocals in counterpoint. The chanting, the mirroring, the spewing with no hope of being heard. A pin in your back bone. A magnet in your head. Dizzy from caring more than you ever thought you could.
“Need You Around” | Smoking Popes
1994
When I first heard this immaculate love song from these Chicago punks, I’d assumed it was a cover of some Motown song I didn’t know. That’s how primal it is in melody, how simple in lyrics. His voice is melted butter. The phrasing is tight as nerves before a first kiss: “If I could change one thing in this world / I’d change your mind and make you my girl. / Because I’m lost, and I need to be found. / Crazy as it sounds, / I need you around.”
“By Your Side” | Sade
2000
This has been my favorite Sade song since before it was in The Invite, but you know when I finally got to hear this over Dolby Atmos speakers I promised myself that it was going in the Canon. It’s in the perfect heart-race tempo. The master stroke is the go-low key change that comes in the chorus: she digs into that pitch like a purr—a frequency healing bones and putting you to sleep.
“Hey” | Pixies
1989
“Hey!” is the rudest awakening, kicking in the door at the start of this song to announce one vital thing: It’s time, freaks and perverts around the globe. We don’t know where we’re going, but we know it’s moody; it’s groovy; it has the greatest guitar bends in the history of the art form.
“What a Fool Believes” | The Doobie Brothers
1978
This was one that narrowly missed the cut last time. I can’t shake it! It’s happy, it’s sad, it’s corny, it’s profound—it’s quintessential yacht rock, baby.
“Disorder” | Joy Division
1979
Foxhead Tavern in Iowa City had a jukebox with the full Unknown Pleasures. Plays only cost a dime. Again and again, over the years, I listened to “Disorder” while playing pool. The flanger, the drums, the bass in that upper register—it’s futurist nostalgia no matter when you hear it.
“Maps” | Yeah Yeah Yeahs
2003
Another one of the greatest love songs ever written, this felt like it was formed before life itself, even though it didn’t exist until 2003. The production is everything; it makes them sound like the biggest band on Earth. Only a few things have ever been this perfect—first kisses, fall picnics, napping with your head in her lap.
“Harvest Moon” | Neil Young
1992
Still astounding that this came out in 1992. He was already more than two decades into a legendary career. He didn’t have to go this hard. How rare it is for any artist to deliver this late in life—let alone it be a freaking masterpiece. That's inspiration. That’s a testament to age. That’s a call to keep on listening.
“Layla” | Derek & the Dominos
1970
I’m no fan of Eric Clapton—the first half of this song is the reason it didn’t make the 100—but hot holy fuck if that piano ending isn’t the absolute best song of all time on its own. If only it’d been its own track. But then… the power is hearing it all slow down. Every sunset has a moon that follows; every joy, an unacknowledged pain.
Next week—more to come.
In 2021, I wrestled with the impossible: I isolated the 100 greatest songs ever written. Five years later, I'm ready to reckon with the terror I hath wrought—it’s time to expand the list from 100 to 200. That’s right: we’re adding a cool hundred to the Earwyrms Canon.