40 Greatest Rock Songs Ever -- My List

OK, I made a list. Inspired by a list put together by Father Joseph Faulkner, who, in addition to being an excellent man of God turns out to be a heckuva rocker, too. If anyone else takes the bait and compiles their own list, please share it with me.

These are songs that stop me in my tracks every time. They're never old. I'd like them played at my funeral (a special dispensation, Father?) Some have personal meaning because of where or who I was when they came along. Others don't. I tried to stay away from the really obvious choices that usually make these lists; in fact, deliberately didn't consult any other "greatest" lists other than Father's, though some of the obvious choices are here. I also tried not to deliberately choose songs I knew most people haven't heard in some pathetic attempt to prove my superiority in taste ("Louisiana 1927" probably falls into that category, but no way was Randy Newman not making my list). I included links to just a few songs that might be unfamiliar.

As for the order of songs, No. 1 is solid but after that there's nothing scientific about where songs are placed, so I didn't even number the rest. I made a rule -- no more than one song per artist. Arbitrary and capricious to be sure, but my list, my rules. And then I went and broke the rule once, so sue me.

 I feel a bit self-conscious about the fact that this is so obviously the list of a 50-year-old white guy who hasn't heard much new music for 20 years or so, but so be it. I am somewhat troubled there aren't more female artists on it, but this isn't about trying to be politically correct; it's about what leapt to mind as my favorites this morning, without a lot of agonizing.

This is a supremely nerdy exercise, of course. But then I am a supreme nerd.

All that said, if I made another list tomorrow, it might have 39 completely different songs on it. I mean, there's no Lou Reed. No Paul Simon. No Janis Joplin. Oy.

1. "Thunder Road," Bruce Springsteen. I have a sneaking suspicion this is Bruce's favorite of his own songs. The opening harmonica and lyrics send a chill down my spine. Every. damn. time.

Which leads, naturally, to "Only the Lonely," Roy Orbison. Such a unique voice, he captured the sadness, the loss, the paranoia that's part of love, too.

"A Change is Gonna Come," Sam Cooke. Greatest civil rights anthem, made even more poignant by Cooke's tragic, all-too-early death

"Papa was a Rolling Stone," the Temptations. Motown shifts from great but innocent pop to topical and brutally honest. Must be heard in its original, 6-plus minute form because that lengthy instrumental intro absolutely sets the tone for what's to come.

"I Heard it Through the Grapevine," Marvin Gaye. Motown's greatest singer.

"Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap," AC/DC. Absolutely no redeeming social value. I guess that's why it's here.

"Reach Out I'll Be There," the Four Tops. Levi Stubbs, the second greatest Motown singer.

"Good Vibrations," Beach Boys. Was there ever a more aptly titled song?

"You've Lost That Loving Feeling," The Righteous Brothers. Producer Phil Spector's greatest. I still try to hit those high notes every time it comes on the radio; end up walking funny the rest of the day.

"I Never Loved a Man (the Way That I Love You)," Aretha Franklin. Greatest singer ever? Bonus: features one of the greatest studio ensembles ever, the Muscle Shoals house band.  http://bit.ly/GQk6iS

"Rave On," Buddy Holly. For that opening  "A we-a-e-a-ell, the little things you say and do make me want to be with you-a-hoo." http://bit.ly/dmyzJB

"Fortunate Son," Creedence Clearwater Revival. Vietnam-era classic, one of the angriest songs ever.

"London's Burning," the Clash. Speaking of angry rock, they billed themselves as "The Only Band That Matters." Ridiculous, of course, but Lord, did they matter.

"Gimme Shelter"/"You Can't Always Get What You Want," the Rolling Stones. Cheating here, but I can't separate them. They open and close "Let it Bleed," with complete terror and utter decadence, respectively.   

"You Can't Be Too Strong," Graham Parker. One of the legions of angry young punks who arose in Thatcher's England in the '70s, with a remarkably nuanced song about abortion. Personal, not political, and quite astonishing still. http://bit.ly/Nw0kiD

"That's Alright Mama," Elvis Presley. Was tempted to go with "Suspicious Minds," but this one is Where It All Began, and oh my God, it's tremendous.

"Desolation Row," Bob Dylan. Bypassing the usual choice, "Like a Rolling Stone," which is indeed tremendous. This is just a lyrical tour-de-force; no idea what it all means, really, and it just doesn't matter. Love those "El Paso" guitars too.

"Stop Your Sobbing," the Pretenders, covering the Kinks. Majestic.

"You Really Got Me," the Kinks. I thought about "Lola," one of my favorite radio singalongs ever, because the song just makes me laugh every time I hear it. But in the end, that out-of-control guitar solo wins out. 

"Feel like Goin' Home," Charlie Rich. Yeah, I guess Charlie was a country singer, sort of. But he was also a great rock and blues singer. This one makes the list because it's just so beautifully sad. http://bit.ly/SALlVl

"Cypress Avenue," Van Morrison. Van is my desert-island artist, the one whose works I could not be without if stranded … etc., etc. From one of my two or three favorite albums of all time, "Astral Weeks." Struggled mightily between this one and "Madame George." http://bit.ly/NbeaFD

"I Fought the Law," the Bobby Fuller Four. Tough Texas '60s punk. 

"Great Balls of Fire," Jerry Lee Lewis. Amazing that Jerry Lee is the last of those original Sun artists alive. Must be all that clean living.

"Folsom Prison Blues," Johnny Cash. 'Cause it has the most badass lyric ever. "I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die." Now, THAT'S gangsta.

"Lawyers, Guns and Money," Warren Zevon. I really miss him; not ashamed to say hearing his music makes me cry every time. I haven't gone home with a waitress ever since I heard this one. See, rock 'n' roll CAN teach important life lessons. 

"Hey Hey My My," Neil Young. Young's warm response to punk rock. Available in acoustic and rocking versions on "Rust Never Sleeps," both terrific. "It's better to burn out than to fade away." Neil's done neither. http://bit.ly/ucBN4e

"The Weight," The Band. Beautifully mysterious and mystical. How is it that a bunch of Canadians -- with one Arkansan, the recently late Levon Helm -- managed to make some of the most evocatively American rock of all time?

"Memphis Egypt," the Mekons. Great, long-lived English punkers who are incapable of being boring or predictable. Head man Jon Langford is one of my all-time rock 'n' roll heroes. http://bit.ly/NyHHid

"What's So Funny (About Peace, Love and Understanding)," Elvis Costello. Written by Elvis's buddy, the wonderful Nick Lowe. Hearing Mr. Costello's second album, "This Year's Model," turned my musical tastes upside down unlike anything else. Of course, this song isn't from that album, but still.

"I Saw Her Standing There," the Beatles. I mean, really, how does one choose? 

"Superstitions," Stevie Wonder. If you want to hear an artist in an incredible groove, listen to Stevie's mid-70s albums. Brilliant.

"That's How Strong My Love Is," Otis Redding. I dunno -- maybe "Respect" or "Try a Little Tenderness"? Whatever. Damn airplanes.

"What'd I Say," Ray Charles. Obvious but truly groundbreaking and just a helluva lotta fun.

"Louisiana 1927," Randy Newman. His movie soundtrack work pays his bills -- handsomely, I assume -- but I feel bad for anyone not familiar with Newman's other stuff. One of the most scabrous, misanthropic, funny songwriters ever, though this scene setter about the flooding Mississippi River is none of the above. http://bit.ly/Nv1f4l

"Here Comes a Regular," the Replacements. The Mats spent more time on my turntable in the '80s than anyone.  A sad, bitter barroom lament. "Well, a person can work up a mean, mean thirst after a hard day of nothin' much at all." Paul Westerberg, what a freakin' songwriter. http://bit.ly/S5AXrh

"My Generation," the Who. Another obvious one, yes, but so is about any choice from them, I suppose. Seeing them live is near the top of my bucket list.

"Seven Nation Army," White Stripes. See, I HAVE heard some music since the '80s.

"Green Onions," Booker T & the MGs. Greatest instrumental ever.

"Have a Little Faith in Me," John Hiatt. Beautiful, like a prayer. http://bit.ly/MGklUI

"Johnny B. Goode," Chuck Berry. Rock 'n' roll guitar starts here.

"Night Train," James Brown. Funk starts here.