Songs That Changed the World

Song is a powerful art form able to affect your emotions in almost any situation. We wanted a list of the five greatest from people who play songs for a living. The musicians all griped. Why five? they asked. How can you limit us to that?

We wanted a number big enough to reflect diversity of taste, but small enough to force choice. What we have here are some great contemporary musicians talking about the songs that changed their lives. You may have missed some of these songs. You may have heard them while sitting in a traffic jam. If you listen to them--either for the first time or again--maybe you'll hear what the musicians heard.

Brian Wilson

(Beach Boys)

Be My Baby by the Ronettes: Phil Spector produced this song. It has a great beat and it's very simple, but it taught me how to produce records, how to use echo and how to combine instruments to get a good sound.

You've Lost That Loving Feeling by the Righteous Brothers: It's about a guy losing a girl and his heart is breaking. Very dramatic, very appealing in a masculine sort of way, and a very unusual sound experience for me. The way Phil Spector put the instruments together was very deep.

Hey Jude by the Beatles: The Beatles inspired the Beach Boys to make great albums. They assembled collections of songs that fit together, and I wanted to do the same thing. This is one of the most amazing, exciting records I've ever heard, especially the way Paul McCartney lets it rip at the end of the song.

What a Fool Believes by the Doobie Brothers: The production is spectacular, and I love the way Michael McDonald sings. "No wise man has the power to reason away''--that's deep. I was in a mental hospital for three months in 1979 and this song got me through that horrible experience.

Walking in the Rain by the Ronettes: The way Ronnie Spector sings brings tears to my eyes. She's asking, "Where is he? I want him to come to me.'' She really wants to meet this guy. I played it all the time on my jukebox in late 1964 and 1965. I learned more from Phil Spector than from the Beatles. At a time when I was using only three or four instruments, he taught me how to use ten or 20. And it worked.

Ronnie Spector

(Ronettes)

Out in the Cold Again by Frankie Lymon: I learned how to sing by listening to Frankie Lymon. Everybody knows Why Do Fools Fall in Love, but Out in the Cold Again is a better summary of my career. I've been in litigation for 14 years with Phil [Spector, her former husband and producer], and every time I think it's over, it isn't. All I ever asked for is my royalties.

What's Going On by Marvin Gaye: The world is still in the state of confusion that he was singing about. He's asking what's going on racially. What a shame that we're still having these problems. And I love his voice.

I Do Love You by Billy Stewart: His voice was so honest you felt he was right there with you. I played it over and over again with my ear to the speaker just for his phrasing. He was one of those great singers who never had a huge hit, but this was the perfect song to dance the grind, a slow cha-cha that was popular when I was growing up. They were playing this song the first time a guy held me close.

She Talks to Rainbows by the Ramones: I love the Ramones. They covered Baby I Love You. This song reminds me so much of me that I called up Joey Ramone and said, "This is my life story. Let's record it.'' Unlike Phil, they let me talk and make suggestions in the studio.

Be My Baby by the Ronettes: This was my first hit record. Whenever I sing it, I don't have an age, and nobody else does, either. In Japan, children sing all the words even though they don't know English. Who would have thought in 1963 that these love songs would still be popular? I think Be My Baby will be around in 2063.

Philip Glass

The Boxer by Paul Simon: His special gift of combining lyric poetry with music composed in the American vernacular gives his songs a power and elegance unequaled by just about anyone. As fresh today as when it first appeared.

Sad-Eyed Lady of the Lowlands by Bob Dylan: This is a classic romantic ballad by our own American troubadour and poet laureate.

Sweet Jane by Lou Reed: Perennial outsider, beat poet and all-time American hipster, Lou is inimitable and irreplaceable. This is Lou Reed at the peak of his form.

Better Man by Pearl Jam: I love their music. It's lyrical, authentic and powerful. In their live shows, Eddie Vedder's persona as composer and performer goes right to the heart of the audience.

Whipping Boy by Ben Harper: His new voice is soulful, original and commanding. His music forces you to listen. It's for today and it's growing.

Joey Ramone

(Ramones)

Be My Baby by the Ronettes: This song always gives me the chills; it's so loaded with passion. Ronnie Spector's voice is unique. It's very sexy and you know immediately that it's her. She has inspired generations of singers after her. And she looked incredible. The Ronettes were the original female punk band. Phil Spector was the catalyst for me, and then the Beatles opened things up even more.

Are You Experienced? by Jimi Hendrix: I saw him live toward the end, and I've seen a lot of footage. There's never been anyone like him, before or since. He was so flamboyant and his guitar was an extension of his soul. In the Fifties and Sixties, so many artists were highly original, and rock was counter-cultural, strictly for twisted individuals. The music doesn't have that meaning anymore. Nowadays, everyone sounds like everyone else. Lenny Kravitz is trying to be Hendrix, but it's pretty lame.

Pictures of Lily by the Who: It's hard to pick one song by the Who. Again, they were unique, extreme, over-the-top with energy and excitement. Everyone together and yet everyone doing his own thing. There will never be another Keith Moon, and Townshend was such a brilliant songwriter. This was the first Who song I ever heard. My parents went to Europe that summer and dumped me at sleep-away camp, which I wasn't thrilled about. We went on a two-mile hike and at the end I heard this on a jukebox in a café. It made my life so wonderful. Townshend wrote stuff anyone could relate to--in this case, masturbation--which was a giant step forward in subject matter. The Beatles were still singing She Loves You. The Who sang about much deeper things.

I Wanna Be Sedated by the Ramones: We were maybe the last rock-and-roll band to do anything unique, create a blueprint to hand down to the next generation. This was our universal party anthem. The title came to me when I was lying in a hospital bed and I really wanted to be sedated. But the song was about being on the road too long. The words came in bits and pieces from our travels. It's strange watching people perform it on punk rock karaoke nights. The rebels are missing, somehow. Kids don't have that rebellion anymore.

Ace of Spades by Motörhead: It's hard to do a list like this and leave off the Kinks, Slade, the Stooges and Eddie Cochran, but I have to go with Motörhead here. Rock and roll may be a lost art, but Motörhead is still around and they play it the way it's supposed to be played. Lemmy Kilmister is a throwback to when rock and roll was dangerous. You wouldn't guess that today. I never analyzed the words. I guess it's about a card game, or death. I just know it's like a body blow when you hear it. It rocks your skeleton.

Warren G

Nuthin' But a G Thang by Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dogg: A combination of Long Beach and Compton, it's a West Coast classic that opened the door for everybody. It had never been done before. They were two cities that didn't get along--like Brooklyn and Queens--and then they did, and it was because of that song.

Killing Me Softly With His Song by Roberta Flack and Lauryn Hill: I'm a big fan of Roberta Flack's and I know Lauryn Hill. Lauryn dedicated this song to me in Copenhagen, Denmark when I was on tour with her. I listen to those lyrics, and that's how I feel.

Lady by the Whispers: I used to dedicate this song to my mother when I was a DJ on the radio. My mom is my lady. I love her more than I could love any girlfriend. She's my number one lady, and I mean that in the nicest way.

Angel by Anita Baker: I grew up listening to this song. My mother and my sisters used to play it and it stuck with me.

Why Have I Lost You? by Cameo: It's my all-time classic from when I started to like girls--in the sixth grade. It ain't about losing. It's saying, So what if I lost somebody, tomorrow I'll be a king.

Marshall Crenshaw

Until You Come Back to Me by Aretha Franklin: I was playing in a bar band when this came out. I'd come home drunk and listen to records on headphones. I always played this song and I always got into it. The original by Stevie Wonder is OK, but you don't know what's really there until Aretha comes along and discovers it.

I Only Have Eyes for You by the Flamingos: Harry Warren and Al Dubin wrote a lot for Warner Bros.' Busby Berkeley musicals. This is my favorite song of theirs, and my favorite version is by the Flamingos because it sounds like it's coming from a dream state, an altered reality. I never heard anything else like it. It's so hypnotic and spooky. You wonder where they got the idea. I first heard it when I was a kid and it stopped me in my tracks, like something from the astral plane.

You Rascal, You by Cab Calloway: I first heard this in a cartoon when I was a kid. I like the song no matter who does it, but now my favorite version is Cab Calloway's. It's so joyous and hilarious. "I'll be standing on the corner full of gin/When they haul your dead body in/I'll be glad when you're dead/You rascal, you.'' It's such a great way to send off somebody you don't like.

Oh Boy by Buddy Holly: Another record I was obsessed with. I was four or five. I couldn't read so I'd flip through my cousin's 45s and look at the labels. Holly was on Brunswick, which had a maroon label with a big star on it. When I saw that label I'd demand to hear it, knowing that I would get either Buddy Holly or Jackie Wilson. I still love the song, but the positive energy makes it perfect for little kids.

Knoxville Girl by the Louvin Brothers: Whenever I read about Ira Louvin and what a racist miscreant he was, it's pretty depressing. The Louvin Brothers were brilliant, though. This song was a hit in the early Sixties. A murder ballad told from the point of view of the murderer. It has dark and vivid words over cheery, bouncy music. The guy beats his girlfriend to death, the flames of hell surround his bed, he's soaked with blood, he lies to his mother and the next morning they drag him off to jail. A lot of folk songs have the most incredible plots you'll ever hear.

Yuka Honda (Cibo Matto)

A Night in Tunisia by Chaka Khan: Extremely accomplished music, from the original writing to the arrangement and the performance. Chaka on mike, Herbie Hancock on keys, Dizzy Gillespie on trumpet. You are in for the best treat in every way.

Too High by Stevie Wonder: I could pick any Stevie song. He is a god of music. I picked this one because of its supersophisticated chord changes. How free Stevie is in his world of sound. How powerful he is, by nailing the sweet spot right in the middle while he makes the most acrobatic intervals and changes.

Aguas de Marco by Antonio Carlos Jobim and Elis Regina: Brazil may seem far from where you are. But when you listen to this song you'll know that it has always lived inside of you. I had an opportunity to perform this with the aid of guitarist Marc Ribot. I was astonished by the complexity of the chord progressions. Jobim masterfully wove many threads of chromatic melodies and subtly presented them over a supergroovy rhythm. Elis Regina's voice is powerful. By the end, when she starts laughing, it brings tears to your eyes, it's just that fucking good.

Fantasy by Earth, Wind and Fire: If a man can really sing this, he really can realize a fantasy. Earth, Wind and Fire is a human treasure.

What's Going On by Marvin Gaye: He sang commercial love songs in the Sixties to get to the position he wanted. Once he reached it, he realized his heart was still empty and started to sing about what was really meaningful to him. Most musicians today don't have half the balls he had. The last notes of the millennium are unfortunately rather weak.

Robyn Hitchcock

Famous Flower of Serving Men by Martin Carthy: An ancient British tale of (continued on page 152) songs that changed the world (continued from page 96) infanticide, cross-dressing and being burned alive, set to a vengeful tune.

Wolfpack by Syd Barrett: A spiritual apocalypse. Just before his mind parted company with itself, Barrett came up with this jagged rant.

Moonlight in Vermont by Captain Beefheart: Icy moonlight spatters blue shadows across a howling ground as the Captain and his men invoke lunar demons.

Avalon by Roxy Music: A love song to a phantom who is besotted with the idea of a woman shimmering out of nowhere. Romantics are always doomed.

Visions of Johanna by Bob Dylan: I've been listening to this since 1966 and now I sing it myself. It says a lot without spelling anything out.

Dicky Barrett (Mighty Mighty Bosstones)

The Best Is Yet to Come by Frank Sinatra: I could have gone with the obvious choices, like My Way and That's Life. They both stand out as all-time classics, but I had to go with my personal fave. The timeless lyrics, Sinatra's phrasing and Count Basie's orchestra are unbeatable.

Ace of Spades by Motörhead: The perfect heavy-metal, punk, fuck-the-world anthem. After Sinatra, Lemmy Kilmister is the man with the throat.

I Am I Said by Neil Diamond: If I've had a scotch or two, this song will make me weep. It's the tale of a man torn between two cities, and the yin and yang of his existence. Even though I sense the song is deeply autobiographical to Neil, I can fully relate to it.

Tommy Gun by the Clash: This has to represent their entire catalog, because the Clash is such an important band to me. With the exception of Should I Stay or Should I Go, I could have chosen any of their songs. I picked Tommy Gun because it's so incredibly punk in its utter disregard for traditional songwriting and arrangement.

God Only Knows by the Beach Boys and It Must Be Love by Madness: These two songs share a single slot because I consider them both to be flawless love songs. When Carl Wilson sings his brother Brian's lyrics--"If you should ever leave me, life would still go on, believe me/The world would show nothing to me, so what good would living do me?''--what else can be said? Suggs McPherson and the boys from Madness did the Eighties equivalent: "Nothing more, nothing less, love is the best.''

Brian Vander Ark (Verve Pipe)

That's All Right Mama by Elvis Presley: The birth of white man's rock and roll. Sam Phillips had no idea what he was inventing. This taught me everything I know about rhythm. There's never been a better song for moving your body.

Tomorrow Never Knows by the Beatles: The first true psychedelic song. It taught me that everything can work sonically. You could record a hair drier, and under the right circumstances, it would sound great. There are no rules in recording.

Good Vibrations by the Beach Boys: Songwriters tend to accumulate bits and pieces of things that sound great by themselves, but don't quite fit together. Brian Wilson took these bits and pieces and somehow made them seamless. That's why I keep everything I write. You never know when something is going to fit.

Like a Rolling Stone by Bob Dylan: I was about eight years old, I was walking past my older brother's bedroom and he was playing this song. All I knew was that I had suddenly become a Bob Dylan fan. I'd never heard anything like that vocal. Now what I appreciate is the rawness of the recording. It works on so many levels. It's a great rock song, a great folk song and it comes close to heavy metal.

Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana: This defined for me what kind of band I wanted to be in. The sound of the guitar and drums was just so appealing, and the vocal was deeply mysterious. You had no idea what he was saying, but you knew this was one of those songs that was going to change everything.

Alice Cooper

I Get Around by the Beach Boys: When I was 12, this song said everything I wanted to do. I lived in the desert, so I couldn't go surfing but I could still cruise Central Avenue.

My Generation by the Who: This was the first heavy-metal hit. The Who defined teenage rebellion with this stuttering anthem.

Light My Fire by the Doors: LA sex music. I was there. I experienced it firsthand. I drank with Jim. I survived.

She Loves You by the Beatles: The very first Beatles record I ever heard. This is the boys at their minimalist best.

I Say a Little Prayer by Dionne Warwick: I could've picked any number of Bacharach classics--Anyone Who Had a Heart, Close to You, I'll Never Fall in Love Again--but Prayer wins out.

David Harrington (Kronos Quartet)

I'll Get By (As Long as I Have You) by the Ink Spots: My wife and I play it for each other frequently. It's gotten us through some tough experiences.

Red Red Wine by UB40: It reminds me of a great summer vacation I had with my wife and children. We played it over and over in the car.

We Shall Overcome by Pete Seeger: Every time I hear it, I get inspired. I'm thinking of Pete Seeger's version because that's the one I heard first.

Sad-Eyed Lady of the Lowlands by Bob Dylan: My main association is being madly in love when it came out. I'm not sure what it means, but the performance is so committed.

Summertime by Janis Joplin: Every time I hear it, I'm amazed by the power of her interpretive ability. This was a fantastic arrangement by a hugely underrated band.

John Flansburgh (They Might Be Giants)

Over the Rainbow by Judy Garland: The lyric and the melody perfectly combine to describe the emotional content of a dream.

Try a Little Tenderness by Otis Redding: It's two great songs really, and the way it slips from one to the other just makes it more amazing.

Good Vibrations by the Beach Boys: The biggest pop experiment that ever worked. Not simply ambitious, the production and instrumentation (cello, theremin, bass harmonica, Mike Love) succeed as immediately as any simple pop song.

Like a Rolling Stone by Bob Dylan: As good a song as a young white guy could write. It's a musical solar eclipse that effortlessly covers 50 percent of rock music.

Roadrunner by Jonathan Richman: It's the reason I'm in a band.

Nick Lowe

Greensleeves: Attributed to Henry VIII, but more likely this is an early example of a hapless damp-palmed minstrel being encouraged to sign over his copyright-- the royalties, as ever, going to royalty.

A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square by Glenn Miller: The wartime hit machine at its most potent. The fact that no record exists of a nightingale being seen or heard anywhere near the vicinity of Berkeley Square--a mere bagatelle.

Eternal Father, Strong to Save: Proof that the Anglican church has all the best tunes.

Limbo Rock by Chubby Checker: My dad's selection as best pop song ever written and recorded. He might well have a point.

Dark End of the Street by James Carr: Black and white unite to create a three-minute pop symphony. Will they ever again?

Jon Fishman (Phish)

Row, Row, Row Your Boat: You learn it as a child, and as you grow up, the lyrics get better with time. "Life is but a dream''--what's deeper than that? And children all over the world like it, so it's the original crossover hit.

Amazing Grace: I read that some Broadway composer said a good lyric makes you think, a good melody makes you feel and a good song makes you feel thoughts. People feel those thoughts even if they don't know the origin of this song, and that's why it has become part of the culture.

The Na Na Song: I don't know if this qualifies as an official song, but it pervades pop music. This is the song that the kid in the sandbox sings when he's taunting the other kid. How many hits have had that Na Na attitude? All of Nirvana is a variation on that melody. It's the cornerstone of grunge. Even the bands that they were reacting against-- REO Speedwagon, Journey, Queen--used it a lot. The quintessential every-thing's-gone-wrong song is descended from Na Na.

Who's Making Love by Johnnie Taylor: It's one of those ultimate statements-- "Who's making love to your old lady while you were out making love?'' What else is there to say about sex?

Trench Town Rock by Bob Marley: The line "One good thing about music, when it hits, you feel no pain'' always brings tears to my eyes. I think that comes closest to summing up my life.

Jorma Kaukonen (Jefferson Airplane)

Rock Around the Clock by Bill Haley: The first hot guitar song I ever heard. It was the transition song from That Doggie in the Window. I could hardly wait for the next one.

Earth Angel by the Penguins: This opened the door to hormones and slow dancing for me.

(I'm Your) Hoochie Coochie Man by Muddy Waters: The Eisenhower era didn't allow much discussion of sex, so this was a revelation--the use of real-life themes, like putting the wood to the ladies. Muddy moved music from the candy store to the saloon.

Sunshine of Your Love by Cream: Eric Clapton's guitar playing made me throw my 12-string through the wall like a spear after I heard Cream at the Fillmore. I would never look at my electric guitar the same way again.

I Am the Light by the Reverend Gary Davis: Even though I'm not a Christian, I've always found Davis to be spiritually uplifting because of the element of redemption in his work--and this is the best example. I also love his surrealism. All the great blues men had it, and life must have been very surreal for a blind guy in a segregated society.

Gibby Haynes (Butthole Surfers)

Lara's Theme (from Dr. Zhivago): It's a killer melody and I was probably having my first crush or something when it came out. If I were a girl, I'd pick some music from Breakfast at Tiffany's.

Anything by Charlie Parker: I don't know the names of his songs, but everyone says he was the greatest, and I want to look like I have good taste. He was a junkie. He had legendary status. He was Bird.

Johnny B. Goode by Chuck Berry: How many versions have there been? Thousands. It's like the beginning of rock and roll, the first time anyone really got it right. I can't give Led Zeppelin credit for a good song. They were just reacting.

Dicks Hate the Police by the Dicks: Their singer Gary Floyd had this killer blues voice. He could do the melody thing, and he could scream. They sounded good even when they were out of tune and hadn't practiced for a month. I could have picked any of a number of their songs, especially Dead in a Motel Room, but I like this one for the line, "You can't find justice, it'll find you.''

Happy Birthday: Just think about the sheer number of times it's been sung. The only version I've heard recorded is Happy Birthday to Me by the Residents. Was it a hit in the Fifties, like That Doggie in the Window? I don't know. After talking to our record company, we sing How Much Is That Dildo in My Asshole?

James Cotton

Juke by Little Walter Jacobs: Everything was different after this song came out. It changed the way the harmonica was recorded and invented a new style.

How Many More Years by Howlin' Wolf: This was the song that put Wolf on Sun Records and it put me in the recording studio for the first time. Up to then, I'd been playing with Wolf off the back of an ice truck and in jukes around West Memphis, Arkansas. Just look at what that record did for Wolf. Within two years he had moved to Chicago, and you know where that story goes.

Eyesight to the Blind by Sonny Boy Williamson: My uncle had put me in Sonny Boy's watch after I had begun to show some promise on the harmonica on the farm in Tunica, Mississippi, and I was traveling with him when this record came out. It was Sonny Boy's first big hit. Right away, you could see good things coming his way: more gigs, better money. Hearing the song on the radio and jukeboxes was a trip.

Dust My Broom by Elmore James: This was a big hit in the South when I was a kid. If you were trying to play and make money, you had to learn this song fast. If you play it right, it'll always get over.

Route 66 by Nat King Cole: It had such a groove that it was almost impossible not to snap your fingers. Plus it was cool to be riding on Route 66 from Chicago to Los Angeles.

Tim Gane (Stereolab)

Nag Nag Nag by Cabaret Voltaire: Certain songs alter the direction of your life, fill you with grand thoughts about changing the world. This song got me thinking for the first time about doing my own records. I can't put my finger on why, because it's so bizarre and alien sounding. I just got this buzz from it, and that's what transformed me.

Sister Ray by the Velvet Underground: It encapsulated everything you wanted to hear in your wildest imagination and then went beyond it. Even now, it's on the limits, both very expansive and very confined. Lou Reed understood how to ground a song in the simplest rock and then take it to the nth degree.

Title theme from The Fearless Vampire Killers by Christopher Komeda: This is a Roman Polanski film from 1967, and I love Roman Polanski. I was watching this film four years ago, and the theme captured something from my childhood. I'm not a nostalgic person at all, but I loved eastern European music on certain television shows when I was little. The melody and arrangements are brilliant, sort of mock gothic, and they trigger this feeling of beauty from the past.

Lady by Dennis Wilson: This was a B-side of a single released only in Denmark, as far as I know. It's only available now on a Beach Boys bootleg called Landlocked. The A-side was The Sound of Free. It was very raw, like a demo, but the voice was so uncynical that you felt you knew him. The voice is usually just part of an act in music, so no-cynicism cuts through everything. It defies fad or style or production. You know the person.

Jane B. by Jane Birkin: This was the B-side of Je T'aime. It's a short story, a woman filling out a form about a missing girl and reading it out loud. A simple melody, but Birkin sings it wonderfully with her distinctive voice, and Serge Gainsbourg [her collaborator and producer] takes the riff from Chopin. He's the only person who could combine classical and pop and make it work.

Ghostface Killah (Wu-Tang Clan)

Save the Children by Marvin Gaye: That's what it's come to. We're killing each other, and we have to come together to stop the destruction. Marvin Gaye is asking who really cares, who's willing to save the world that's destined to die? Brothers like him and Stevie Wonder, they knew what was going on. Marvin had his third eye open.

Bob Marley: I don't remember the name of the song. It was just strong and uplifting. I didn't hear it often. The record company didn't promote it, and I haven't heard it for a long time. All I remember is, it was about history, and how wicked people are running the world, how they're killing our children and raping our women. I heard it and I thought, Oh, shit!

If I Should Die Tonight by Marvin Gaye: I can relate to what he's saying because you don't know when you're going to die. I feel everyone is here for a purpose, but if I die before my time, before I finish what I started, at least I will feel I had something to die for. Marvin understood that, and then he did die before his time. It's all the will of Allah.

We Are the World by USA for Africa: We need to come together like that to save the millions, except that they had too many millionaires singing and not giving. If all those millionaires gave up a million dollars, we could save Africa. Civilization started there, you know.

Curtis Mayfield: I love Curtis May-field, too. He had his own style, and he makes you want to sing. This is about our women, but I can't remember the name of this song, either. Men have to shine a light on the women so they can reflect it on the babies. We have to start loving our women instead of just having sex with them all day. We have to teach them and give them the proper knowledge, and that is our history. You can't see where you're going if you can't see where you've been.

Slick Rick

Take Five by Dave Brubeck: The only jazz record I ever liked, probably because it was so smooth, cool and relaxing. My stepfather used to play it all the time and the melody has stayed with me.

Michelle by the Beatles: I grew up in England, so I heard a lot of the Beatles. This has an unusual melody--so unusual that it could be a hit now--and I like the French lyrics. It seemed rich with soul. You can hear that they made it not for the money but for the love of their art.

Hello Stranger by Martha and the Vandellas: Her voice came through like a violin hitting a rich, high note. She made something timeless, and yet it was very much a part of the Sixties soul era. You can see those clothes, those hairstyles, that Malcolm X look.

Children's Story by Slick Rick: I'm against robbing and stealing, and I wrote this about somebody who got caught for that. Songs don't really change the world, but this may have helped a few people change their lives. It's bouncy and danceable.

You'll Never Find Another Love Like Mine by Lou Rawls: The arrangement really creates the sound of a hurting heart. This is the theme music for when you tell your girlfriend that she's not going to find anyone else as good as you.

Suzi Gardner (L.7)

Parachute Woman by the Rolling Stones: When I was a kid, long before I realized what sex was, I knew that this song was about sex. It's just so horny, that hiccuping guitar riff with that amazing tone. Keith Richards always had amazing tone. So many Rolling Stones songs could have topped my list--Jumpin' jack Flash, 19th Nervous Breakdown-- but this one gets overlooked.

Supernaut by Black Sabbath: As soon as you hear that riff, you have to bang your head to it. The salsa breakdown in the middle is completely bizarre because the riff is so undeniably rock. Black Sabbath's heaviness made me want to become a musician.

We're in the Money by Ginger Rogers: This classic show tune from Gold Diggers has such a positive, good-time vibe. I love the way they sing about the landlord coming, but they don't care. Musicians have lean times like that a lot.

Bodies by the Sex Pistols: God Save the Queen is better known, but I always thought the queen was an obvious target. The story line here is about an abortion and it's so rude and in-your-face and unedited, just Johnny Rotten telling it like it is.

Six Days on the Road by Dave Dudley: We do a lot of traveling, and we hit a lot of truck stops where I've bought all these trucking compilation albums that aren't available anywhere else. So I can say that this is the best road song of all time. It makes me happy every time I hear it, although we change the words all the time: "Six days on the road and I'm sick of everything.''

G Love (G Love and Special Sauce)

The Times They Are A-Changin' by Bob Dylan: This song embodies the generation of the Sixties, and I feel it will speak to youth for generations to come.

War by Bob Marley: A classic that epitomizes the spirit of Bob Marley--the greatest vocalist of the millennium. His legacy will become larger than Elvis'.

Inner City Blues by Marvin Gaye: Great example of Marvin's incredible voice and the power of his poetry. He was the voice of the inner city.

Ramble On by Led Zeppelin: Tolkien's Lord of the Rings inspired the lyrics. It's one of my personal favorites and a triumph of musical production.

Stop the Violence by Boogie Down Productions: KRS-One is the best MC of the golden age of hip-hop. His music is hard and very conscious. In a field of gangsters, of kings, he rises above as the teacher of the poetic word.