Best Song Ever

by Treble Staff

10.30.2005

It's been a little while since The Best Song Ever series has emerged on these pages, likely prompting many a Treble reader to ponder where our beloved little column has gone. It hasn't gone anywhere, as you can see here, it's just been hibernating temporarily. What with the Best Songs Ever of the 70s feature we posted a while back chronicling 50 of our favorite songs from the decade of Polyester and Gremlins, we needed a little break to get back to regular, every day Treble activity. Well, we settled in and got back to business, listening back through our back catalogues of music, pinpointing the tunes that have made us the people we are today. So here are five more. Enjoy, and we'll promise to keep them coming!

"Road To Nowhere"
by Talking Heads
from Little Creatures

As a college student with, not one, but two completely useless majors, I consider "Road to Nowhere" my anthem. Compared to the other tight, taut Talking Heads songs, "Road to Nowhere" is positively epic in scope. Talking Heads leader David Byrne, for what seems like the first time on record, seems completely and utterly relaxed and lets his vocals slide into the song like a well-worn pair of jeans. The song starts out with a choir that initially sounds out of place in a Talking Heads song. Shouldn't a band like Queen be the ones to handle the vocal acrobatics? Surely not the Talking Heads. But soon this choir gives way to one of the Talking Heads best rhythms that you can't help but shake your rump to. And while my parents' friends may give me confused looks at cocktail parties, all I have to remember is that I may be on the road to nowhere. But it's alright, baby, it's alright. — Molly B. Eichel





"I Would Hurt a Fly"
by Built to Spill
from Perfect from Now On

Misanthropy is a lyrical topic not often associated with indie pop, particularly when Built to Spill is concerned. Yet, among the dreamy musings on Perfect from Now On is a surprisingly dark lyrical turn on "I Would Hurt a Fly," an anthemic, rocking and unexpectedly rancorous tune. Martsch sings, "There's a mean bone in my body/it's connected to the problems that I won't take for an answer/and I won't take that from you," as a rallying cry to the frail and pale. Sometimes, you can't help but want to fight back, to tell someone how you really feel about them, and to just let `em really have it. And this song provides that much needed stimulus. But you might want to keep "Car" around as a backup so you can feel more at peace afterward. — Jeff Terich





"Dreaming"
by Blondie
from Eat to the Beat

I consider Debbie Harry is a genius and a god. She has the formula down to make a perfectly cool rock star. Good wardrobe, style, awesome bravado, and being the only girl in an all-male rock band. Out of all of Blondie's songs this one has my favorite beat, and favorite lyrics. "Dreaming" is the song that saves my life little by little. — Ayn Averett





"Pink Turns to Blue"
by Husker Du
from Zen Arcade

No disrespect to Bob Mould (the man is a legend, y'know), but my favorite Husker Du song happens to be one penned by Grant Hart, the tale of love, death and heroin—"Pink Turns to Blue." The title could be referring to the lyrical subject's transformation from pink and alive to blue and decaying, which adds an even more ghastly and harrowing aspect to the already dark song. Lyrically simple, but eerie and heartbreaking all the same, lines like "Angels pacing/gently placing/roses `round her head" give her death a quality of romance and closure, but the melody and Hart's pained delivery reveal the horror that lies beneath the simple lyrical structure. — Jeff Terich

"Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots Pt. 1"
by Flaming Lips
from Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots

Who ever said drugs do not begat creativity has obviously never listened to the Flaming Lips (or done `shrooms). (ed note: Wayne Coyne is very vocal about being drug free, though the same may not necessarily be said for Steven Drozd) There is this weird wide-eyed innocence to everything the Flaming Lips produce. Even in their catalog of covers, there is an inherent earnestness that a lot of bands forgo in order to capture a cynical coolness. As with the entire Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots album, the purity of the title track only serves to help the concept. Wayne Coyne's stoned-sounding croon allows you to fight those evil robots right along with Yoshimi. And although I may not subscribe to the same need to "discipline her body" that Yoshimi possesses, I do often find myself popping a Flintstones vitamin every now again just in case the robots find their way to my side of town. — Molly B. Eichel





"Bastards of Young"
by The Replacements
from Tim

"Smells Like Teen Spirit" was labeled an anthem for a generation by many after Kurt Cobain's death in 1994, but The Replacements laid claim to that title long before, with their angsty restless youth ode "Bastards of Young." Paul Westerberg sung this song with conviction, with words being spat from a sincere tongue. "God, what a mess/the ladder of success/where you take one step and miss the first whole rung," Westerberg sings, predating the wave of Generation X slacker movies that would flood the mid '90s. But it's not until the third verse when we truly hear the most vulnerable and bewildered lines in the song:

"The ones that love us best are the ones we'll lay to rest
And visit their graves on holidays at best
The ones that love us least are the ones we aim to please
If it's any consolation I don't begin to understand them"

No disrespect to Cobain, but Westerberg nailed the agitated twenty-something vibe in 1985, and anybody between the ages of 18 to 35 can easily relate to this song, even if it never did achieve the same level of mainstream success that Nirvana's hit did. — Jeff Terich