It’s been seven or so years since the last time I got paid for writing about music, but that doesn’t mean my interest in music criticism has gone away. Look, I’m in my late forties. I shouldn’t have anything interesting to say about modern popular music. Most of it isn’t made for me. So I definitely have no interest in listening to or reading about what anyone has to say about a lot of what’s popular right now. I’ll charitably say I’ve aged out of the contemporary pop conversation (I’ll uncharitably add that a lot of what passes for pop music nowadays—and that’s inclusive of all sub-genres under that umbrella, including hip-hop) sucks. With full acknowledgement that my take is completely subjective. If you enjoy Post Malone and Morgan Wallen, good for you. I’ll listen to the old shit.
A lot of what I’ve been reading lately has been focused on “the old shit”. My last few book purchases have been:
-The 33 1/3 book about The Clash’s Sandinista!, which is fairly informative and a solid read—I’m about halfway through.
-The 33 1/3 book about The Isley Brothers’ 3 + 3, a totem of rock and soul by a wildly underappreciated band. I finished it a few days ago on the subway, and it’s a great read. Although (and I hate this about me) there’s a nitpicky part that wishes that the author had fact-checked a few points that are easily Google-able (and because I’m a nerd, I knew these facts before Google existed), like the date John Lennon was murdered or the year of Marvin Gaye’s murder. Is it weird that the majority of factual errors I noticed had to do with the years people died? I dunno.
-Michael McDonald’s memoir, co-written with Paul Reiser of My Two Dads! That is not something I would’ve had on my Bingo card in 1988 when I was crushing on Paul’s MTD co-star Greg Evigan. At any rate, Mikey Mac (who I also have a massive crush on) has a strong enough relationship with Paul that, as I was reading, I kinda forgot that I was reading Mike’s thoughts articulated by another person. This is a good thing. Finished this one yesterday, highly recommend.
-Tom Breihan’s book about momentum-shifting Billboard Number One hits, adapted from his Stereogum series. I’ve been scanning individual entries in Tom’s book, rather than giving it a straight-through read. I’m struck by how, with a few years to digest, I’m more of a fan of Tom’s writing now than I was when I initially read these entries. I’m also struck by how few of the 20 songs he profiled made it onto my personal “perfect songs” list. Maybe I’m not as much of a Top 40 simp as I thought.
Anyway, let’s move on to some more songs I think kick ass. Your opinion might differ, and that’s okay!
“As” didn’t really ping on my radar until the late ‘90s, when George Michael remade it with an assist from Mary J. Blige (side note: George and Mary are both master interpreters who could release full albums featuring all of the excellent covers they’ve done over the years). Like most good covers/samples do, I was led back to the original version, and you can guess the rest. We haven’t even gotten out of the “A”s, and I think I’ve used up every superlative I can possibly lob at Stevie Wonder.
The older I get, the harder it is to maintain faith in humanity. “As” is one of those songs I play when my misanthropy is at a high and I need to feel hope.
“As It Was” by Harry Styles (2022)
I was very fortunate to attend the Grammy Awards last year. There’s a great energy that comes from just being in the room, and as someone who lived for award shows in the ‘80s and ‘90s, the opportunity to view one in person was a treat. I, like many, was surprised when Harry Styles beat Beyoncé and Adele to win Album of the Year. I quickly attributed Harry’s victory to racism (and to be clear, an element of that is definitely present there), but I also took the opportunity to give an engaged listen to Harry’s House, and was pleasantly surprised by what I heard.
As you all know, I’m sure, Harry’s a boy band refugee. At the time One Direction blew up, I was already somewhat divorced from top 40 pop. The only reason I can even name one song by the group (“What Makes You Beautiful”) is that it’s come up hundreds of times as a clue on SongPop (the mobile “Name That Tune” game that I’ve played religiously for nearly a decade). The point is: he’s never really been on my radar. Until “As it Was” burrowed its way into my brain, earworm style (insert Kennedy joke here) and stayed there for a solid year. It’s a well-constructed, concise pop song. So well-constructed and concise it almost feels like it came from a laboratory. It’s got a timeless quality (and not just because it has a vague sonic resemblance to a-ha’s “Take On Me”). “As it Was” could’ve been a hit in 1988, 2005 or 2022. I’d say that has at least as much resonance to Grammy voters as the fact that Harry’s a white dude.
“As We Lay” by Shirley Murdock (1986)
Infidelity has been a constant theme in popular music lyrics since probably the inception of popular music! It’s a relatable topic, there’s bound to be some drama, and when everything hits just right, there’s a vulnerability at the core of a good cheating song. Which leads us to “As We Lay”, the tune that introduced Shirley Murdock to (Black) American music fans, became an urban radio staple for decades, and briefly crossed her over to the pop charts in early 1997.
Shirley sings in character as a woman who has just woken up after a night of passion with a married man. She is also in a relationship with someone, and as the sun rises, she looks over at her still-sleeping lover and has an “oh shit, what have I done?” moment. What I love about “As We Lay” is that there’s no blame flung in either direction (although, to be fair, the dude is still asleep, so we don’t know how he feels). There is definitely regret and maybe some shame, too. It’s an adult song about an adult situation, delivered passionately, emotionally, and with nuance. Shirley starts the song with a gentle coo, giving the impression that she might still be a little groggy from the night before. As the tune progresses, the vocals get more intense, and by the last chorus, she’s full on belting. “As We Lay” feels like a fully baked and perfectly-executed musical idea. Interesting to note that level of detail paid to a song about a (probably) rash, (definitely) regretful tryst.
“Ascension (Don’t Ever Wonder)” by Maxwell (1996)
For some reason, my brain just connected Maxwell’s Urban Hang Suite, the neo-soul superstar’s 1996 debut to the self-titled 2008 effort from Vampire Weekend. I guess there are some similarities: both acts hail from New York City, both albums are debut. The connection my brain made is that both albums are excellent straight through without having any real standout tracks. “Ascension”, the first (and only) commercially released single from Hang Suite, is included here for two tangible reasons: 1) It was just Maxwell’s birthday and he’s been on my mind (and in rotation) quite a bit lately and 2) it has a killer remix, which manages to bang as hard (if not harder) than the original despite being a clear sop to the Puffy-ization of Black radio at the time, leaning very hard on an obvious sample of an urban radio classic (in this case, “No One’s Gonna Love You” by The S.O.S. Band).
“Assassin” by John Mayer (2009)
John Mayer has historically taken a lot of shit. Some of it has been his own doing: John has put his own foot in his mouth on quite a few occasions, with his worst moment still being the Jessica Simpson “sexual Napalm”/"United Colors of Benetton heart but a David Duke dick” interview that, if memory serves, appeared right around the time that Battle Studies, the album that housed “Assassin”, was released.
One thing that’s saved John, in my eyes at least, is his self-awareness. Dude has a song on his very first album called “My Stupid Mouth”, in which he literally calls himself out for not always thinking before speaking. “Assassin” feels like another one of those self-aware moments, couched in a bit more metaphor. By the time Battle Studies was released, John already had a rep as a bit of a Lothario. Jessica Simpson was one in a long list of ladies John had been romantically linked to (another, Taylor Swift, appears as a support vocalist on this same album). “Assassin” is about a dude who goes through life swinging his dick around, breaking hearts and not caring too much. At least until he has the tables turned on him by a woman playing the same game. Given John’s more low-key profile these days, I’d say he’s probably learned his lesson on the “love ‘em and leave ‘em” front as well as on the “verbal diarrhea” front. Good for him. And good for us that his messiness has resulted in some great music.
“At Last” by Etta James (1960)
I’ve never been married, and can’t say for sure whether that ship has sailed for good. I have been to tons of weddings, though. Hell, I’ve officiated ten of them. Music has played an important part in many of them, and while there are widely lauded “wedding songs” that have absolutely no resonance with me, this is not the case for Etta James’ timeless “At Last”. That song will be playing when people get married in 2060, if the planet is still inhabitable at that point. Some songs become standards just because they hang around long enough. “At Last” is a standard for a reason.
“At the End of a Slow Dance” by Van Hunt (2006)
It’s a travesty that most of the folks who know the name “Van Hunt” at all know him as Halle Berry’s (as of this writing) boyfriend. The brother is an excellent musician, and I’m not just saying that because my first ever liner-notes shout out came via one of his albums (I was his co-publicist briefly).
Before I worked with him, I was a fan. I actually picked up On the Jungle Floor, the musician’s second album, on a whim. I was in Best Buy for some reason or another, saw the album on the new release rack, and copped it. I remember having been unimpressed/disappointed by his first album (a reaction I reversed course on after I revisited it years later). There was no course reversal needed for On the Jungle Floor. It’s a masterpiece, and should’ve been a huge hit. However, given the music industry’s long-standing framework of putting artists into racial silos, it’s also easy to see why it wasn’t a huge hit. “At the End of a Slow Dance” is a perfect case study.
“Slow Dance” straddles the line between punk (tempo, low-slung guitar) and new wave (blaring synthesizers). The Killers, who made songs that have some sonic similarity to Van’s tune, would’ve had a smash if this was their song. It wouldn’t have been as good, though (and that’s not a Killers diss, as I hope you would glean via the fact that I’ve already included a song by that band on this list). There’s an inherent stank, an almost imperceptive layer of funk, that gives some of Van’s rock-ier tunes an extra oomph. By the way, there’s also an Iggy cover on On the Jungle Floor—in case anyone had questions about Van’s hard rock bona fides.
Too weird for contemporary R&B audiences, definitely too black for rock audiences (Lenny was the only Negro allowed through those gates at the time), Van shoulda been a contender. At least he got the girl, though.
Running tally-type shit because I like stats:
Total songs: 85
6 songs from the 1960s
17 songs from the 1970s
34 songs from the 1980s
18 songs from the 1990s
5 songs from the aughts
4 songs from the 2010s
1 song from the 2020s
31 songs by male solo artists (including Prince’s songs featuring band names), 32 songs by duos/groups/bands, 19 songs by female solo artists, 2 collaborative performance by two (or more) solo artists, 1 collaborative performance between two groups (although what did Cult Jam actually do?)
Michael Jackson appears on five songs on this list as it stands (one as a solo artist, three as a member of the Jackson Five, one as a background vocalist.) With his two songs in this entry, Prince ties MJ for the most songs on this list, also with five. Stevie Wonder lands second on this list with four songs. Marvin Gaye & Tammi Terrell (as a duo) and James Taylor appear twice so far.
Next up: My sixth grade talent show, and some serious (maybe intentional?) gender fuckery.