#dream becomes a meme among the preschooler set

[darthstitch]

Down in the Underground

Kids were creepy sometimes.

Sarah likes kids just fine, which is why she works at a nursery. It helps pay for her additional schooling and the rest of the bills. She knows perfectly well that one must answer the imaginary telephone, drink the pretend tea, exclaim at the deliciousness of the flower and rock salad and, of course, praise the drawings as masterpieces of art.

But sometimes, kids said and did the darndest and the creepiest things. Like the time her baby brother Toby, at 2 years old, talked about the "pitty lady" visiting him at night.

The "pitty lady" was Grandma Amelia, who died just two months before Toby was born. They'd figured it out when he kept reaching for a picture of their grandmother in her younger years.

There was also the time her cousin Anne's little girl once said, "I don't like this house, Mummy. I got sick here when I was an old lady and nobody came to help me."

Her cousins later learned that the house they were planning to buy used to belong to an old woman who died alone, as she'd been estranged from her family. Needless to say, Anne and her husband looked for a different house.

And there was Daniel, her next door neighbor Lyta's baby, who Sarah and her flatmate watched over sometimes when the usual babysitter wasn't available. Daniel was the sweetest little man, sunny-tempered and generally well-behaved, who had just discovered the wonders of crawling. Crawling, not walking, although Sarah figures with those strong little legs of his, it was definitely going to be a thing in the very near future.

So Sarah puts the kid down in his crib, for his nap, right? And her flatmate insists that they bring the crib out to the living room, just to make sure they always have an eye on him. No big deal - a healthy dose of paranoia where little kids were concerned didn't hurt anyone.

And without fail, once he's awake, she finds sand all over the crib and in his pockets. His mum complains about the exact same thing. She's pretty sure the kid's clean when she puts him down for his nap. But yeah. Sand. Go figure.

Her flatmate is no help at all. The first time this happened, Calliope just stared down at Daniel, who gazed back up at her with big innocent eyes and then, she muttered something in exasperation that sounded like "Ohneeross!" and then she laughed.

And then, Calliope tells her not to worry about the sand. They'll just sweep it away.

Now, it's this drawing by little Holly Wheeler. She's another sweet kid and usually did everything in bright pinks and purples. Her drawings are usually a riotous explosion of rainbow colors, which is typical for a little girl like her. And now, right in the middle of the pinks, magentas, yellows and purples, is a tall pale figure dressed entirely in black, with black messy hair and pure black eyes ringed with blue, except for where Holly attempted to draw yellow stars in them.

"Holly, who's this?"

"Oh, that's Mister Sandman."

Now, Sarah knows her fairy tales and nursery rhymes and she's very up to date on kids' cartoons. The last time she checked, the Sandman didn't look like Slenderman's Creepy Cousin. "Mister Sandman? He looks a bit scary, doesn't he? Looks a bit like Mister Nightmare to me."

Holly looked completely offended. "He's not scary at all! He makes pretty dreams and he sings with me and he even sent me the monster under my bed so I wouldn't be scared when Mummy turns off the light!" A beat. "His name is Mister Jargogle."

***

"My Lord?"

His Darkness, the King of All Night's Dreaming, was rather engrossed in the crafting of a new dream, so he might be forgiven for sounding a little distracted. "Yes, Lucienne, what is it?"

"There… have been an unusual amount of youthful visitors to the Castle lately."

"Hm."

"Not that I mind seeing little ones around but -- "

"Oh, Lucienne, is there another one of those dragonfish brabbles making nests in the library shelves? I'll have Mervyn put them in Fiddler's Green or… hmm… just a moment -- " A pale hand waved gracefully and a rather short, fuzzy-looking red-orange nightmare with golfball eyes appeared. "This is Snottor. I've been meaning to send him along to help you."

"Wakka wakka!" The Nightmare greeted.

There's a flap of wings as Matthew settles down on Morpheus' shoulder. The raven was rather proud that he'd finally gotten shoulder-perching privileges and made use of it whenever he could. "Hey, is that a Muppet?"

Lucienne shook her head. "I appreciate the addition to my staff, my lord, but the children -- "

"Children are often in and out of the Dreaming, Lucienne. I rather enjoy tending to their dreams; childhood is when much of their imagination and creativity are shaped and formed."

"Wakka wakka!"

"He looks a little bit like Fozzy Bear," said Matthew, flapping down to inspect the new Nightmare a little bit closely. "I always loved the Muppets. Kermit's always gonna be my main frog, y'know?"

"The children," said Lucienne, deciding that now was a good time to polish off her glasses, "all know you by name, my lord. And not through the stories you inspire, but they know you quite well."

"Wakka wakka!"

"Help!" Matthew cawed. "It's gonna eat me!"

***

Sarah might have forgotten all about Holly's grimdark Mister Sandman, chalking it up to a little girl's overactive imagination.

But here he was again, in another child's drawing.

This time, it was little Gregory Martens, who was in her afternoon class. He was a thin, quiet, withdrawn little boy, who usually shrank back from the rough-housing of the other children, preferring to draw or read quietly in a corner of the room. His mother had told Sarah that Gregory was especially close to his father, though he didn't see the man often, as he was in the military.

"This is Mister Sandman," Gregory explains. "I have bad dreams, sometimes. Usually about my Da." He sniffs. "I don't want him to come home in a box, like the way Mandy's mumma did last year."

"Does he make the bad dreams go away, Gregory?" Sarah asks him. Her heart hurts when he mentions "the box" and she pats his shoulder comfortingly.

Another sniff. Sarah hands him a tissue and helps him blow his nose. "Mister Sandman says that sometimes you just have to face the bad stuff in your dreams. I guess that means I gotta be brave, like my Da. Sometimes, Mister Sandman just walks me away from the box and just tells me stories."

"What stories?"

"I don't remember all of it when I wake up. But I think I will, one day."

***

Hob Gadling doesn't mind the damage to his clothes. He's watching his son, Robyn, finally making that important milestone from crawling to walking. The baby is clearly trying to stand up on his own, pushing up against the floor with chubby fists.

Finally, he makes it to a full standing position and Hob kneels, boisterously encouraging his boy onwards. Every detail of Robyn's face is so clear, the bright blue eyes that he'd inherited from his mother, the flaxen hair, the rosy, chubby cheeks. The little one takes one step and then another and then another, until he comes right to his father's arms. Hob sweeps him up bellowing with joy and the baby shrieks happily with him.

It is much, much later that Eleanor indulgently plucks the baby from his father's arms, because it's time for his nap and Robyn will be ill-tempered without it. Hob steps back and knows, without having to look, that Dream is there, right beside him.

"Thank you, love," Hob tells him, his voice thick. "I'd near forgotten what my boy looked like."

"It is the child's birthday today, is it not?" Dream draws him close and they take a moment just to breathe in each other's scent, before they sink into each other's embrace.

Hob's face is wet with tears when he wakes up but Dream is still there in his arms, waiting for him. There are whispered words of love and a sharing of memories and the deepest grief. There are clasped hands and kisses exchanged.

In the end, there is warmth, comfort and consolation.

***

Sarah sees the drawing of "Mister Sandman" again in another child's drawing, from the primary school classes, which were just next door to the nursery. He's in a few more drawings, as well, from different children, but the depiction is eerily the same - the tall slender figure always in black, amidst a riot of colors.

It was, she suddenly realizes, an honest-to-God meme among the nursery and primary school set. It was a freakin' creepypasta come to life.

Of course she takes pictures. Of course she asks the kids about the drawings, when she can. A dream of being a lady knight, riding to adventure on a dragon. A dream about the monsters in the closet or under the bed, or for one child, the monster who kept him company in his cupboard bedroom under the stairs. That one led to social services swooping in and taking the poor little boy away to finally live with his doting godparents, instead of the aunt who had so cruelly neglected him.

And then, she reads this story by her classmate and neighbor, Rose Walker, who'd gotten published in the university's literary journal. It's accompanied by an illustration, the artist signing his name as Will Byers.

"The King of All Night's Dreaming" was the title. A tall, elegant, pale figure in black and gold, jewelry sparkling in his hair, flashes of diamond and silver, with stars in his eyes, surrounded with colors.

***

The Guardians of the Castle Gate had loved the first child who was conceived and born in the Dreaming.

Their Lord had once walked out, seeking his son, only to find him held carefully, gently, in his Griffin's mouth. Orpheus was giggling, bright little sounds that warmed his heart. He had his father's eyes.

"The little lord wanted to play, sire," the Wyvern told him, a little abashed.

Morpheus was nonplussed but his little one was content and happy, and so he left them to it. Later, he knew that the little boy would come sit at his feet, happy to watch his father create dreams and nightmares. They would sing together, sing a song of shaping, and their delight would always draw in Morpheus' little sister to join them.

***

Rose Walker laughs when Sarah tells her about the "Mister Sandman meme" and points out the resemblance to the picture in Rose's story.

"Oh my god, I'm never gonna let him live this down."

"What."

"Okay, so, uhm, my friend Will just decided to draw someone we both knew as the Dream King in my story. It's kind of a joke. And well, I guess he really is magic with kids. Daniel just loves him."

"This guy," Sarah tapping gently at the ethereal figure in the picture, "is based on a real person?!"

"Yeah. He's very much real. Also he's not Slenderman. I think he'd be offended at the very idea." Rose paused for a beat. "Or maybe not. I really have to ask him about the nightmare thing."

"You're not making any sense here, friend and I'm still, quite frankly, creeped the hell out."

"Look, Sarah," Rose said, taking her arm. "I think you better come with me to my next class. You got the next couple of hours free, right?"

"Well, yeah, Richmond called off his classes today."

"Okay, come on."

Sarah realizes that Rose is leading her to Calliope's literature class. She hasn't had a chance to sign up for her flatmate's classes yet, though she's heard good things about it. She plans to do that next semester.

Calliope smiles at her in recognition when they take their seats. She's a great lecturer, animated and engaging the class in discussion. And then, she tells them that she's invited a guest to read some of Shakespeare's poetry for them, dark eyes impish with mischief.

And then, "Mister Sandman" glides in.

All right. So he's not Slenderman's Creepy Cousin. He's… okay, oh god, oh wow…. so Sarah feels the flush creeping up her neck and Rose rolls her eyes at her. What? She can't help it if the man is ridiculously beautiful, rocking out the Gothic vibe in the long black coat and the black boots.

He greets Calliope with a courtly kiss to her hand. "I hope you realize what you've done. He'll be terribly upset with me."

"Oh, I'm sure he will be, Oneiros," Calliope purrs. "I am also sure you'll enjoy every moment of making it up to him."

Some of the class, who were apparently in on the joke, titters.

"GO GET YOUR MAN, MURPHY!" Someone hollers.

There is a suspicious flush on those exquisite cheekbones but he simply shakes his head and then, does a little wave, when he notices Rose.

"You're hopeless, Uncle Dream," Rose calls out.

"Uncle Dream?!"

Rose nodded. "Yep, that's my Uncle Dream, who's a dork sharing his one braincell with my history professor. Now shush."

Rose's Uncle Dream takes the book of Shakespeare's sonnets from Calliope and reads.

"Reads" was an inadequate word for it. To be honest, Sarah's not sure if there was a word for how Dream's voice sounded, deep and rich and lulling, making her almost see the images evoked by every line. The class is spellbound for what seems to be an eternity, before he finally closes the book on the last line. There's a very audible sigh from everyone and it isn't long before they all applaud.

"Careful, Oneiros," Calliope teases him. "Or you might be snatched up for the theatre or teaching a class of your own very soon."

"In which case, I shall rely on my own dearest knight to save me from the ordeal," he responds, smiling gently at her. "Once I've apologized to him properly for the blasphemy of Shakespeare."

"I am sure he will, once you explain that he was very much in your thoughts whilst you read every line of that sonnet. You are besotted, Oneiros. And utterly ridiculous."

Once again, he kisses her hand in the same charming, courtly manner. "But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, all losses are restored and sorrows end."

"Oh, you're impossible!" She laughs at him as he takes his leave, sweeping out as dramatically as he walked in.

Sarah shrinks in her seat. Well. That happened.

***

There's another little boy making his way to the Dreaming.

Daniel Hall greets the wyvern, the griffin and the hippogriff with a happy crow and he's allowed to ride on the griffin's back, pudgy fists holding on to his mane. They spend quite some time playing until their attention is caught by a polite cough.

Dream of the Endless is watching them. An eyebrow is raised.

"The little lord wanted to play, sire," the Wyvern tells him once more in a helpful tone.

The Guardians are quite confused when Dream suddenly snatches Daniel up for a hug, nor did they understand the tears in his eyes, or

the sudden darkening of the skies in the Dreaming, threatening rain. Daniel only knows that he ought to hug Dream back, which he did, something that his own Mummy did when he was feeling sad.

He pats at Dream's cheek, making a clumsy attempt to wipe away his tears but Dream manages a soft, watery smile. "Shall we go and create a new dream today, little Daniel?"

Daniel nods happily.

-end-

Footnote the First: Sarah Williams was eventually introduced to the Hellfire Club and took to the whole D&D thing like a duck to water. She was also responsible for the sudden improvement in everyone's costumes and props. She did, eventually, find out who and what Dream really was, but that was only after her baby brother was snatched away by the Goblin King and she had to go through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered to take him back.

Footnote the Second: Matthew would like it to be known that Nightmares, even the ones that greatly resemble Muppets, are not allowed to eat His Majesty's Ravens. He appreciates Dream enforcing this rule and quite forgave him when all the Muppet Nightmares joined together to sing Bohemian Rhapsody as their idea of an apology.

Footnote the Third: Hob Gadling made sure to send Calliope a lovely bouquet of flowers, as a token of appreciation, once he'd heard about the "Shakespeare Incident" in her classroom. Dream had been very creative in the whole process of "making it up" to him, which was probably why it rained red roses, lavender and peonies in the Dreaming for the next two weeks. Hob could not be held responsible for the happy daze he spent the next day in. Twitterpated was probably the best word here and it was also an excellent word to describe the Dream Lord when he went about his duties afterwards. At least Lucienne now had a faithful assistant helping her clean up the flowers in the library, although he rather liked nibbling on the peonies. At least, he wasn't trying to eat Matthew anymore.

[obtusemedia]

In Ascending Order: Top 50 Songs of the ‘90s

The ‘90s have become sort of an idyllic period that many Millennials and Gen Xers look fondly upon. It makes sense — the economy was good, Seinfeld ruled televisions, we weren’t worried about either the USSR or North Korea nuking us — but if there’s one thing that has really kept the ‘90s beloved, it’s the music.

There’s something for everyone at the end of the 20th Century, from grunge to gangsta rap to boy bands to Britpop. The ‘90s featured rock’s final years of pop relevance, as well as the blossoming of its underground movements. Hip-hop became a massive cultural force. And although pop wasn’t as strong as it was in the ‘80s, it did have a nice bounce-back period near Y2K.

Capturing the essence of the wildly-divergent ‘90s in just 50 songs is difficult, but I took a swing at it anyways. Let’s dive in:

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

> “Even Flow” by Pearl Jam (1992): Since I’m a Puget Sound native, I should love Pearl Jam more than I do. But sorry, I’ve never been able to muster too much love for the iconic grunge act. That said, “Even Flow” has a great, energetic groove that goes nicely with Eddie Vedder’s bellow.

> “Not If You Were the Last Junkie On Earth” by the Dandy Warhols (1997): By 1997, Nevermind seemed like a century away, as bright-and-shiny pop tunes took over from Alt Nation. So how did indie rock respond? By making a snarktastic, uber-catchy power pop jam about how “heroin was so passé,” complete with a music video featuring dancing syringes. The ‘90s were wild, guys.

> “Crash Into Me” by Dave Matthews Band (1996): If Greta Gerwig gets to admit that this song is actually good despite the oddly skeevy lyrics at times, then so do I. Just forget about the time they dumped 800 pounds of poop in the Chicago River and let Dave’s froggy voice whisk you away.

> “Metal Detektor” by Spoon (1998): America’s most consistent indie rock band wouldn’t reach their heights until the early 2000′s, but “Metal Detektor” is a solid lo-fi preview of the groovy, nervy tunes to come.

> “All Star” by Smash Mouth (1999): Forget the memes and Shrek and remember that this song is iconic for a reason. Did it age badly? Absolutely. But that’s part of its dorky, wonderful charm. And like every young Millennial, I know every word by heart. HEY NOW

#50: “Inbetweener” by Sleeper (1995)

One thing I love about Britpop is its fondness for character vignettes. Pulp were masters of this, and Blur occasionally dipped their toes in that pool, but even the B-listers knew how to nail a depressed-suburbanite character study.

“Inbetweener” tells the story of a married couple who settled for each other. They weren’t each others’ first-choices, they were just supposed to be “inbetweeners.” By the time they’ve settled into adulthood, their lives have descended into complete boredom, but they’re also too lazy to change anything. It’s the black hole of mediocrity.

Sleeper does a stellar job making the story pop, with a sunny sound to balance out lead singer Louise Wener’s deadpan vocals. In a way, it’s a bit ironic that a pop-rock song with a chorus this anthemic would be about the most boring lives imaginable, but I imagine that was sort-of the point.

#49: “When I Come Around” by Green Day (1994)

Bay Area legends Green Day went 100 percent into the pop side of pop-punk with the infamous graduation anthem “Good Riddance.” But I’ll always prefer their earlier, snottier side, which balanced the two genres perfectly.

“When I Come Around” is a song so maddeningly catchy that it doesn’t even matter that drummer Tre Cool utterly fails to stay on beat, occasionally slowing down and speeding up. Thank god for Billie Joe Armstrong’s timeless melody and crunchy guitar tone, both of which keep this song afloat, along with a solid slap-bass. 

Honestly, the amateur vibe of “When I Come Around” is endearing nearly 25 years later, when most mainstream rock feels aggressively focus-grouped. Even Green Day would become much more polished later on (not that this was always bad), so it’s nice to see the youthful energy and passion on display.

#48: “Jesus Freak” by DC Talk (1995)

There were many subgenres that peaked in the ‘90s that I’ve already mentioned, but there’s one more movement that had its prime years in this era: Christian rock.

...wait, wait, don’t click away yet! I’m not trying to proselytize here — some ‘90s Christian music could pass as the real deal. A few, like Jars of Clay, even notched a mainstream hit. But no Christian rock band was bigger among the youth-group set than DC Talk, who never really crossed over to secular audiences. And their signature song, “Jesus Freak,” is absolutely ridiculous — and that’s what makes it great.

Christian music in the ‘10s is mostly bland and focus-grouped to death. If you can tell one Hillsong or Lauren Daigle tune apart from the next, you have better ears than I. But “Jesus Freak” was a strange beast. Instead of joy or thankfulness, its primary emotions are defiance and rage. They even worked with the same music video director as Nine Inch Nails! Amy Grant would never. (although she certainly had her mainstream pop sellout moment in the ‘90s)

Does “Jesus Freak” have some embarrassing lyrics about John The Baptist’s belly? Of course. Does it blatantly rip off “Smells Like Teen Spirit?" Definitely. But, most importantly — is it a banger? HELL (err...heaven) YEAH.

#47: “Vapour Trail” by Ride (1990)

Shoegaze is definitely a sound that I respect more than I actually like. Personally (as you’ll see later on this list), I prefer its more structured, catchier cousin, dream pop.

But Ride managed to find the sweet spot between My Bloody Valentine and top-40 with their sweetly melancholy “Vapour Trail.” It definitely has all the hallmarks of shoegaze — it’s very spaced-out, the lyrics are both romantic and depressing, and there’s a definite wall-of-sound feel to it — but there’s also an actual hook. Thanks to its jangly guitars and orchestral coda, it almost feels like The Smiths’ take on the subgenre.

#46: “Enter Sandman” by Metallica (1991)

Why yes, I am that loser that’s never been able to get into metal, yet loves the simpler pleasures of “Enter Sandman.” What can I say — it’s a total jam and the hooks are plentiful.

It’s honestly kind of hilarious that this song became a massive success right as R.E.M. and Nirvana were rapidly shifting what popular rock sounded like, because “Enter Sandman” leans much heavier towards cheesy, over-the-top hair metal than grunge. I can’t get enough of James Hetfield hamming it up on the mic, literally cackling like a Disney villain at a few points.

For me, the corniness is part of the fun here, along with the raw energy that the band brings to the song. “Enter Sandman” let the masses headbang along with the metalheads, and for that, I’m grateful.

#45: “...Baby One More Time” by Britney Spears (1998)

Here’s proof of how massive Britney Spears’ debut single was: I was in preschool when it was released, and I knew it just as well as the Sesame Street or Arthur theme songs at the time. “...Baby One More Time” was a staple of Radio Disney, which was my main exposure to non-Christian music before elementary school (that, and Thriller, of course). Those opening piano stabs were etched into my brain from a very early age.

There’s a good reason it’s stuck with me: Britney’s breakthrough smash is a pop classic. “...Baby One More Time” captures the passion of a teenage crush better than almost any song from its era. And Max Martin’s crystal-clear, melodramatic production is untouchable. Frankly, it might still be Britney’s best song, over 20 years later.

#44: “Animal Nitrate” by Suede (1993)

One of the first major Britpop anthems, “Animal Nitrate” is a swaggering, cocky ode to the UK’s finest glam rock. Marc Bolan would’ve killed to write something this seedy and catchy.

In a way, it serves as sort of the mid-point between Blur and Pulp’s winking snark and Oasis’ hard-charging stadium-fillers. Just add a nice dose of sleaze. Suede weren’t able to keep up the momentum from their landmark debut, but at least they have classic singles like “Animal Nitrate” that cemented their legacy as pioneers.

#43: “Born Slippy .NUXX” by Underworld (1996)

I’m not normally a fan of super-long electronic songs. In fact, this will be the only representative of electronica — a fairly popular scene in the late ‘90s — to show up on this list.

But “Born Slippy” is special. First off, to be completely honest with y’all: I’m a bit biased, since the track was famously featured in Trainspotting, one of my favorite ‘90s movies. So it was always going to have positive connotations for me. Beyond that, “Born Slippy,” more than any other classic electronica song of its time, is bonkers. After a long, atmospheric intro, it’s essentially five and a half minutes of rambling, drunken chaos over a thudding drum beat (with one little break in the middle).

It’s both minimalist (a good chunk of the song is just a drum machine and chanting) and maximalist (IT’S SO LOUD). “Born Slippy” is the audio equivalent of losing your mind, and I love every second of it.

#42: “Groove Is In The Heart” by Deee-Lite ft. Q-Tip (1990)

And here’s a dance song with the complete opposite vibe! While Underworld turned their thumping beats into cold, confusing chaos, Deee-Lite only has one mission with their classic one-hit-wonder: to soundtrack the greatest party of all time.

“Groove” just about succeeds in that goal, too. The bassline and clattering percussion are untouchable, the lyrics are pure nonsense in the best way (more dance songs should throw in Dr. Seuss references), and the group even snagged funk legend Bootsy Collins to throw in some random ad-libs here and there. 

Q-Tip, a budding legend in his own right, contributes a nice verse, but the real draw here is Deee-Lite’s aggressive quirkiness. Where else will you find a dancefloor filler that includes slide-whistle solos?

#41: “This Is How We Do It” by Montell Jordan (1995)

New Jack Swing — the subgenre that mixed R&B smoothness with hip-hop beats and attitude — might have peaked in the late ‘80s and early ‘90s, but its best track came way after its pinnacle.

“This Is How We Do It” will always be an effective crowdpleaser. Somehow, Montell Jordan found a way to balance street smarts with a squeaky-clean jam perfect for a Bar Mitzvah. He essentially perfected Will Smith’s formula, but Jordan had an extra advantage: his golden vocals. Yeah, his rapping is a bit corny, but you can’t deny that voice.

The ‘90s had plenty of gangsta-lite party jams like “This Is How We Do It,” but thanks to Jordan’s charisma and a deathless chorus, this one stands above the rest.

#40: “Movin’ On Up” by Primal Scream (1991)

If you’re going to rip off the Rolling Stones’ “You Can’t Always Get What You Want,” you might as well go for the jugular and only steal its massive ending.

“Movin’ On Up” is absolutely shameless in that regard, but I’ll be damned if it isn’t effective anyways. This gospel/classic-rock pastiche is four minutes of straight euphoria: Uplifting lyrics! Jazzy piano! Soaring guitar solos! And of course, a gospel choir so powerful that their voices break through the noise like the Kool-Aid Man. 

Primal Scream were smart enough to let the choir take over the second half of the song, just letting the vaguely-religious vibes ride itself out. Because of this brilliant decision, “Movin’ On Up” is somehow more danceable than the rest of its album, the acid-house landmark Screamadelica.

#39: “Just A Girl” by No Doubt (1995)

Riot grrrl, an aggressively feminist brand of indie rock, was an important ‘90s subgenre, but rarely a commercially successful one. Still, there were some acts that polished up that style of angst and packaged into something different yet still great, and one of them was No Doubt.

Although Gwen Stefani might be more well-known to most millennials for teaching us all how to spell bananas, her best song might still be “Just A Girl.” It’s a pretty simple concept — woman is righteously upset by how society coddles her because of her gender — but Stefani sells with her flexible vocals and loads of personality. She shifts from an exaggerated Betty Boop pastiche to a Californian alt-rock wail within seconds.

The rest of No Doubt are able to keep pace with their frontwoman, bouncing back and forth between the springy verses and mosh-friendly, speedy choruses. It’s a good fit for Stefani’s manic energy, and a nice burst of bright energy to bring a close to a dreary era of rock.

#38: “Ruff Ryders’ Anthem” by DMX (1998)

Forget shiny suits: If I’m listening to late ‘90s hip-hop, I’ll take the rawer pleasures of DMX every day of the week.

On his breakout hit “Ruff Ryders’ Anthem,” DMX began to hone his now-legendary untamed style, although it’s a bit more subtle than how he would sound a few years later. It’s not quite as bombastic, but in some ways, that makes this feel a little more like the real X. It literally sounds like a mobster making threats, and it just happens to rhyme and be over a killer beat.

There’s all the ridiculous lyrics you’d expect from DMX here — highlights include the wonderfully emo couplet “All I know is pain/all I feel is rain” and a coda that’s simply a machine gun firing and X yelling “TALK IS CHEAP, MOTHERFUCKER!!!” But for the most part, it’s proto-DMX, and it’s interesting to see a larger-than-life figure somewhat grounded.

#37: “Friday I’m In Love” by The Cure (1992)

The first couple years of the ‘90s are flooded with awkward ‘80s leftovers, but one wonderful (and very ‘80s) song that snuck into the next decade is “Friday I’m In Love,” The Cure’s final hit.

It’s shocking that something this bouncy, simple and optimistic came out the same year Nirvana and Pearl Jam dominated the airwaves, but great music can succeed at any time. Robert Smith’s nursery-rhyme melodies and lyrics are so simple that it’s shocking that this song wasn’t actually written ages beforehand.

And it’s refreshing to hear a band famous for getting angsty pull out a happy-go-lucky love song tailor-made for romantic comedies. At some point, Smith had to write an upbeat song, right?

#36: “Everlong” by Foo Fighters (1997)

There’s an argument out there that “Everlong,” written by Foo Fighters frontman and former Nirvana drummer Dave Grohl, is better than any Nirvana song. I cannot remotely agree (spoiler: Nirvana places much higher on this list), but I can understand why “Everlong” has such a strong reputation.

Easily the best Foo Fighters song, “Everlong” is everything you’d want in a radio-friendly alt-rock single. It’s catchy, but still has some legitimate grit and bite. Propulsive and anthemic, yet still angsty and relatable. Grohl somehow took a grimy post-grunge banger, added romantic lyrics, and made it work. I certainly can’t imagine Bush or Everclear pulling that off.

#35: “Wannabe” by Spice Girls (1996)

In less than three minutes, five British women kicked down the doors of alt-rock and birthed the late-’90s bubblegum pop boom with one song. And what a glorious burst of energy that song is.

"Wannabe” might be the most purely fun song on this entire list. From the springy piano beat to each of the five girls showing off their bold, feisty attitudes (except for Posh Spice...sorry, Victoria), to Scary and Ginger Spices’ cheeky rap breakdown at the end, it’s impossible not to like. The song is a bit repetitive, yes, but when you have nuclear-grade weapon hooks like these, you might as well use them. ZIGAZIGAHHH

#34: “Fake Plastic Trees” by Radiohead (1995)

And now to the exact opposite side of British music!

Not to be that annoying contrarian, but I’ve never been able to get into Radiohead. A lot of their music is too cerebral for my tastes — I don’t mind thoughtful lyrics or experimentation, but I need a hook or a groove to grab onto.

Still, I do have a fond spot for their early years. And “Fake Plastic Trees,” my favorite song of theirs, is the perfect midpoint between grunge angst and sweeping Britpop balladry. 

The lyrics are abstract, yet Thom Yorke’s yearning, cracked vocals convey more than any words could’ve. Like one of my favorite modern acts, Japanese Breakfast, his voice acts simply as another instrument to convey the heartbreak. Match that with a slow-burn power ballad fit for a rom-com credit roll, and you’ve got an instant classic. It’s really too bad Radiohead got bored with this sound...

#33: “It Was A Good Day” by Ice Cube (1992)

Ice Cube is not normally a happy guy in his classic songs. Whether he’s pissed at the cops or his former bandmates, he’s usually in a bad mood for some reason. But for his most beloved track, Cube imagines what a day with no problems would be like, and it’s sublime.

He nabs a triple double on the court without trying. He gets to bang a chick he’s been trying to have sex with since high school. He seemingly wins every game of bones and craps he plays. And most importantly, the police and gangs didn’t hassle him.

Many gangsta rap songs are about turmoil and chaos, but “It Was A Good Day” shows that even the toughest thugs just wanted some peace and to have a good time.

(although if it was a really good day, the Supersonics would’ve beaten the Lakers...)

#32: “Hunger Strike” by Temple of the Dog (1991)

This song is so Seattle that the CD single probably came with a complimentary damp flannel, a Dick’s deluxe, and coffee stains.

It’s a bit surprising to me that there hasn’t ben any Seattle artists on the list proper yet, seeing as the city was the epicenter of ‘90s culture. Obviously, grunge played a role, but this was also the decade when Starbucks, Microsoft and Amazon blew up; the decade when the Sonics and Mariners had superstars like Gary Payton and Ken Griffey, Jr. (the Seahawks had to wait another decade to hit their stride); the decade where the Emerald City’s reputation changed from South Alaska to one of America’s iconic locales.

And before Nirvana and Pearl Jam took led that charge, “Hunger Strike” was the first grunge breakthrough, and for good reason. In a way, it’s sort of the Watch The Throne of grunge, with Chris Cornell and Eddie Vedder exchanging vocals. The chorus, when Vedder sings the hook while Cornell bellows “I’M GOING HUNGRAAAAAAAAAAAY” like a madman, gives me goosebumps every time. 

Honestly, I like this lighter-waving ballad more than any of Pearl Jam or Soundgarden’s actual songs. Not sure why this connects with me more — perhaps it’s the four minutes of raw emotion and wailing vocals over gorgeous harmonizing guitars. Vedder and Cornell work shockingly well together, too. I wish the duo made more music.

#31: “Connection” by Elastica (1994)

There is no Britpop song that’s cooler than “Connection.” While most of the subgenre is all about wink-wink cleverness or gigantic classic-rock riffs, Elastica dispenses with both of those for Justine Frischmann’s snarling attitude.

Elastica kept things very simple on their most iconic single. There’s a rudimentary guitar riff (which yes, they stole from Wire, but who cares), a steady beat, and Frischmann rolling her eyes over the whole thing. “Connection” is not a song that needs a lot of explaining: one listen, and you’ll instantly understand why even American teens couldn’t resist the snark.

#30: “Alison” by Slowdive (1993)

Slowdive’s masterpiece, Souvlaki, might have been a bit late to the shoegaze party by 1993, but it and its iconic leadoff track, “Alison,” have stood tall over the movement regardless.

My favorite shoegaze song, “Alison” is a hazy soup of distorted guitars, hypnotic drums and hopelessly romantic lyrics about a druggy (and possibly imaginary?) relationship. About half of the lines are about drugs and confusion, and lead singer Neil Halstead describes the titular woman as his anchor through the chaos of life. It’s a slow-dance made for a goth prom, and it lingers in your brain long after it’s over.

#29: “Baby Got Back” by Sir Mix-a-Lot (1992)

“Baby Got Back” has unfortunately become sort of a punchline by this point. Not because it’s a clunker —I think most people seem to love it as much as I do — but because of its constant feature in kids’ movies (I first heard it in Shark Tale as a child...the early ‘00s were a strange time) and the fact that the song has been boiled down to just a few lines. 

“I like big butts and I cannot lie.” “Oh. My. Gawd. Becky, look at her butt.” “My anaconda don’t want none unless you’ve got buns, hon.” Those moments define “Baby Got Back” more than anything else.

Which is a shame, because it’s a masterpiece of trashy fun. Seattle icon Sir-Mix-a-Lot somehow found out how to make solid punchlines about booty for four minutes — you try coming up with that many iconic moments in a short timespan! And the dizzying production, with its sharp horn bursts and super-tight bassline, is no joke.

"Baby Got Back” might be a goofy novelty track, but there’s actual effort put in. It’s a formula more artists should strive for.

#28: “California Love” by 2Pac feat. Dr. Dre and Roger Troutman (1995)

Yes, this is the cliché 2Pac choice. But “California Love” is difficult to resist.

Backed by a rowdy Dre beat (and a great opening verse from the Dr. as well), Pac’s comeback single after being released from prison is truly timeless. You go to any L.A. party or sporting event and it’ll inevitably be played (partly because it’s strangely clean for a gangsta rap anthem). And 2Pac is game to shout out the entire state — he even gives Sacramento props over 20 years before Lady Bird!

Pac has some deeper, more introspective songs than “California Love.” But sometimes, the basic pick is the right one.

#27: “Summer Babe (Winter Version)” by Pavement (1992)

Pavement has always been the cool kids’ ‘90s band. While the massive alt-rock acts put their raw, bleeding-heart emotions on display, Pavement kept things sardonic and snarky. They were willing to poke fun at The Smashing Pumpkins. They’re essentially the Jim Halpert of rock — kind of lazy and self-removed, but with too much charisma to ignore.

Yet, for all their snarky bonafides, my favorite song of theirs is one of their more emotional. “Summer Babe” still features Stephen Malkmus’ famously flat, dry vocals, but the song has some real heft to it regardless. The deep-fried guitar shredding its way though the track and the noisy drums work well amongst the sloppy-but-charming sound. It’s meandering, but when Malkmus puts some juice in his vocals for the final minute, it still strikes a chord. 

#26: “Deceptacon” by Le Tigre (1999)

By the late ‘90s, punk icon Kathleen Hanna had already moved on from her massively influential riot grrrl band, Bikini Kill. Distorted guitars were so 1992. What was next? ‘80s nostalgia, of course!

“Deceptacon,” by Hanna’s other famous band, Le Tigre, is a sizzling slice of new wave perfection. With its proudly-analog synth stabs and dance beat, the song perfected the indie-band-goes-disco formula 10 years before everyone else tried it. Seriously, this sounds way more like 2009 than 1999, and it’s shocking that its somehow from the 20th Century.

But “Deceptacon” isn’t purely a Duran Duran tribute — there’s still that same fury that Hanna was famous for. Her raw vocals make for a strange, yet captivating combination with the poppy beat. It’s a punk song you could dance to, just like the Ramones always wanted!

#25: “Fantasy (Bad Boy Remix)” by Mariah Carey feat. Ol’ Dirty Bastard and Puff Daddy (1995)

There might not have been any ‘90s popstar bigger than Mariah Carey. She racked up 14 number-one hits, including “One Sweet Day,” a monster R&B collaboration with Boys II Men that is still tied for the longest stay at the top of the charts (if only it was a better song). 

However, she’s never been my favorite — overwrought R&B ballads really aren’t my thing. But she did release one single that I unabashedly love, and that’s partly due to an assist from one of hip-hop’s weirdest stars.

I’m still not sure why the powers that be felt that Carey, a super-polished pop balladeer, and Ol’ Dirty Bastard, a rapper who sounded and acted like a homeless man on bath salts, was a good combo. But it worked beautifully! ODB’s weirdo charm proved to be a nice balance to Carey’s more sanitized sound. And the pop structure reigned in ODB just enough — although that didn’t stop him from spending the first 45 seconds just shouting out random places (“JAPAN ARE YOU IN THE HOUSE?!?”) and later quoting Donny and Marie Osmond. The man was a maniac.

But arguably what makes the song work better than either artist’s contribution is that sparkling production. The remix of “Fantasy,” helmed by Bad Boy mastermind Puff Daddy, strips back the original song’s heavier sampling of the ‘80s classic “Genius of Love” to just the groovy bassline for most of the song, letting the synth burbles wait until the chorus to pop. The result is one of the few truly great American pop songs of the mid ‘90s.

#24: “Blue Jeans” by Blur (1993)

Despite their relatively low placement on this list, Blur are my absolute favorite band of the ‘90s. They helped create one of its prominent movements, Britpop, with their 1992 single “Popscene,” and went on to dominate the subgenre. And when they got bored with that sound five years later, Blur proved they could do angsty, distorted alt-rock just as well as the Americans. (And five years after that, lead singer Damon Albarn started a fun little side project — you might have heard of them.)

But my favorite song of theirs doesn’t really fit into either Blur’s eras. Technically, “Blue Jeans” was released on their first Britpop album, Modern Life is Rubbish, but it doesn’t really have the same witty, uber-English vibe as their hit singles from that time. Instead, it’s a low-key, almost dream-pop song that’s simply about being content in a relationship. 

Sounds a bit boring, until you actually listen to the track — Albarn’s melody here is stunningly beautiful, yet down-to-earth, and the quaint music backing him matches the vibe of the song exactly. And his lyrics nail the early stages of love — “I don’t really wanna change a thing/I wanna stay this way forever.” There’s few songs that capture the simple joys of a romance like “Blue Jeans,” particularly in the honeymoon period.

#23: “Forgot About Dre” by Dr. Dre feat. Eminem (1999)

The defining sound of West Coast hip-hop — the squealing synths and trunk-rattling bass of G-Funk — was mastered by one man in the early ‘90s. Dr. Dre’s The Chronic was a landmark for the genre in 1992, and his iconic style can be heard from MCs throughout most of the decade.

But by 1999, things had changed. The biggest names in hip-hop sounded nothing like Dre’s signature sound, from Puff Daddy’s sample-heavy pop-rap to the chaotic Southern twang coming from No Limit Records. Dre was seen as a has-been, a relic.

However, “Forgot About Dre” ended Dre’s slump that year. The funky Chronic beats were supplanted by a sharper-edged, metallic production over which Dre publicly shamed the world for ignoring him and his legacy. It’s a ballsy move to already anoint yourself as a legend just 11 years after you burst onto the scene, but with Dre’s track record, he could afford to do so. And although he’s not the greatest rapper technically, he spits with enough force and charisma to sell his snarling lines.

Dre also had a partner to give him a boost: the then-newbie Eminem. A lot of Em’s big 2000′s hits have aged badly in my opinion — the production is awkward and there’s too much homophobia — but he sounds sharp as hell on “Forgot About Dre.” His verse is arguably the song’s highlight, as he unleashes a rapid-fire, charmingly random verse with endlessly quotable lines.

“Forgot About Dre” cemented Dre’s status as a titan of the industry who could seemlessly create new trends and stay afloat through multiple decades. And with it being one of Eminem’s breakout moments, it also proved Dre could be a kingmaker.

#22: “You Oughta Know” by Alanis Morissette (1995)

The ‘90s were the decade of angst. So what better climate was there to release a scathing takedown of an ex, who may or may not be one of the dudes from Full House?

Okay, so it’s never been confirmed that “You Oughta Know” is actually about Dave Coulier. But that doesn’t lessen its rage and impact. Morissette is seething with rage about this breakup, writing all-time classic lines like “Does she know how you told you’d hold me until you die/’Til you die, BUT YOU’RE STILL ALIVE” and of course, “Are you thinking of me when you fuck her?!”

Morissette perfectly uses the era’s classic quiet-loud dynamic shifts to her advantage, creepily whispering at the start of the verses, and slowly growing louder and angrier until she’s screaming her lungs out by the chorus. Her ragged, off-kilter vocals perfectly capture the blinding emotion she feels. It’s a karaoke staple for those who’ve just been dumped for a good reason.

#21: “Big Pimpin’” by Jay-Z feat. UGK (1999)

That Timbaland beat. Dear lord. How can it sound so good against three radically different flows?! The man is truly a genius.

Yeah, Hov and Bun B and Pimp C all deliver here too, but let’s not pretend that beat isn’t the reason why this is a top-shelf Jay-Z single.

#20: “Larger Than Life” by Backstreet Boys (1999)

Yeah, it’s better than “I Want It That Way.” Not by a lot — they’re both perfect — but I’ve always preferred upbeat boy band songs to ballads.

“Larger Than Life” was named accurately. From the second the thumping beat kicks in, the song is a stadium-filling anthem, the kind arena-rock bands would’ve written a decade prior. Does it have a chorus that’s easy to scream along to at concerts? Check. Does it have a beat you can awkwardly groove to? Check. Does it have a bad-ass guitar solo thrown in? Shockingly, yeah.

Boy bands were the true rockstars of the late-’90s (apologies to, uh, Matchbox 20?), so it would only make sense to have one of them create a bonafide rock anthem. And when you match the Backstreet Boys’ sugary hooks with a roaring atmosphere worthy of Def Leppard, you’ve got a classic on your hands.

#19: “The Fly” by U2 (1991)

‘90s U2 is the best U2. I love Joshua Tree and Unforgettable Fire as much as the next guy, but I’ll take their weirdo, aggressively-ironic decade over their more earnest years any day.

Perhaps no song encapsulates U2′s ‘90s ethos better than “The Fly.” It’s got a slinky, nocturnal feel to the music, with The Edge’s guitar distorted slicing through like a machete. The swirling, tripped-out guitar solo here might be his greatest ever.

But like many U2 songs, “The Fly” belongs to Bono. In it, he plays the titular sleazebag from hell (literally — the song is about a crank call from down there), whispering sweet nothings into the listener’s ear. Do the lyrics actually mean anything? Honestly, I’m still not sure, but they still somehow sound transgressive and witty, if a bit corny. But you’ve got to expect a little corn when U2 is involved. And when Bono duets with himself on the sublime chorus, both as The Fly and in a piercing operatic falsetto, it’s one of the best hooks of the band’s career.

“The Fly” was the world’s introduction to the new U2 in 1991, and although it might have shocked people expecting another “With Or Without You,” it’s aged beautifully over 25 years later.

#18: “Heaven Or Las Vegas” by Cocteau Twins (1990)

Cocteau Twins are usually held up as dream pop’s forefathers, helping create a distinct, hazy sound that would inspire future artists from The Cranberries to Beach House to Washed Out. One listen to “Heaven Or Las Vegas” proves why the Scottish trio was such an inspiration.

“Heaven Or Las Vegas,” the title track to Cocteau Twins’ flawless 1990 album, is one of the most immaculate, gorgeous songs of the decade. Invoking both heaven and Las Vegas was accurate: the track is graceful, yet also drenched in neon synths and glitz. It perfectly toes the line between holiness and kitsch.

And here’s where I admit that, like most people, I can’t make out 90 percent of what vocalist Elizabeth Fraser is singing. Beyond belting out the title of the song in the chorus, the rest sounds like French, or speaking in tongues. Regardless, her ethereal alto is a perfect compliment to the swirling keyboards and gauzy guitars floating around her in space.

#17: “All The Small Things” by Blink-182 (1999)

In the classic video for “All The Small Things,” Blink-182 spends the entire runtime clowning on the TRL-era boy bands of the time. Here’s the ironic thing about that video: “All The Small Things” is secretly the greatest boy band song of the ‘90s (yes, that means *NSYNC didn’t make the list...their best songs came out in the early aughts, sorry).

Blink-182 are technically a pop-punk band, not a boy band, but you wouldn’t really know that from their most iconic, and best, hit. “All The Small Things” is direct, punchy and has a monster sing-along chorus. Sure, Tom DeLonge’s nasal whine isn’t a typical teen heartthrob voice, but young Justin Timberlake had an unusual voice too (“IT’S GONNA BAY MAAAAE”). 

The fact that “All The Small Things” is basically a bubblegum Trojan horse for Hot Topic kids is exactly what makes it so great. Chugging guitars can peacefully coexist with a TRL-ready melody and surprisingly romantic (if simple) lyrics. 

#16: “Gin & Juice” by Snoop Doggy Dogg (1993)

Nowadays, Snoop Dogg is probably more known for his intense love of weed, unwillingness to turn down collaborations, and friendship with Martha Stewart more than any new music. But Snoop’s earned the right to ease into being a hip-hop elder statesman, thanks to his landmark album Doggystyle and its standout single, “Gin & Juice.”

The young Snoop (only 22 at the time!!) had already nailed down his trademark, chilled-out drawl by 1993. He uses it to great effect on “Gin & Juice,” describing a wild house party filled with sex, drugs and alcohol like it’s just another regular day at the office. You can practically hear his knowing smile in the verses, and the chorus sung by D-Ruff is infectious as hell.

Of course, major credit has to be given to Dr. Dre’s G-funk production. It’s my favorite beat of his from this era, and its dog-whistle synths and shuffling beat perfectly fit the early-’90s California party vibe. 

#15: “Semi-Charmed Life” by Third Eye Blind (1997)

This is probably the only song in history to take heavy lyrical influence from the Doug theme song and simultaneously be about crystal meth.

It shouldn’t be hard to explain why “Semi-Charmed Life” is a classic, right? It turned an insanely bleak topic into one of the sunniest, most propulsive jams of all time. The rap-singing in the verses is a blast to keep up with, and that falsetto “goodBYYYYYYYE” in the chorus is the ‘90s equivalent of the high note in “Take On Me”: often-attempted in karaoke, with a very low success rate.

The late ‘90s had no shortage of great, weird pop jams, and “Semi-Charmed Life” is near the top of the pile.

#14: “Say It Ain’t So” by Weezer (1994)

My favorite ‘90s album will always be Blur’s Parklife. But my second choice would probably be Weezer’s self-titled “Blue Album,” a nerdy power-pop masterpiece. It’s an angstier mirror of The Cars’ 1976 debut, also self-titled; appropriate, seeing as Cars frontman Rik Ocasek produced Weezer’s first album.

The record’s centerpiece is the heartbreaking “Say It Ain’t So,” a perfect power ballad. The band nails the quiet/loud/quiet dynamic shifts from the mumbling verses to the supercharged chorus. There, Rivers Cuomo scratches his vocals, displaying his emotional wounds after alcoholism tore apart his family. 

For a band known for very silly songs like “Buddy Holly” and “Beverly Hills,” the passionate bridge, where Cuomo first wails away vocally before making his guitar do the same in a fiery solo, is truly heartbreaking. “Say It Ain’t So” proved that California dorks could pull off sadness just as well as the flannel-wearing Seattleites, if not better.

#13: “My Heart Will Go On” by Céline Dion (1997)

Earlier this year, Avengers: Endgame moved past Titanic on the all-time box office charts. As much as I enjoyed Endgame, this feels wrong. Sure, Marvel is a big deal, but was Endgame as much of a phenomenon as Titanic? No. Frankly, it’s not even a top-5 Marvel movie (although it is better than Avatar, which Endgame could pass soon for first place). 

Why has Titanic cemented itself in pop culture history? Part of that is because the movie is a stone-cold classic, featuring a frothy romance between two of a generation’s greatest actors that ends in unspeakable tragedy and heartbreak. But I believe there’s another aspect to the film that’s helped keep its legacy strong: its unsinkable theme song.

“My Heart Will Go On” is one of the greatest movie themes of all time, precisely because it mirrors its movie. Like Titanic, Céline Dion’s signature song starts as a tender, soft romance, before bursting into a dizzying climax that pummels the audience into submission, forcing tears.

I don’t think I need to emphasize that Dion is a fantastic singer — there are very few singers that could nail both the cooing opening and the Whitney Houston-esque belting at the final chorus. But “My Heart Will Go On” is still occasionally considered a punchline, and that’s just wrong. Any song with this much emotional heft and force cannot be taken lightly.

#12: “What’s The Frequency, Kenneth?” by R.E.M. (1994)

Two of Gen X’s longest-lasting and most important acts, U2 and R.E.M., switched roles in the ‘90s. U2 shifted their image from overly-earnest arena-rockers to weirdos dabbling in underground sounds. Meanwhile, their American counterparts went from mumbling college rock jams to radio-friendly ballads.

Not to be a total snob, but I’ve always preferred R.E.M.’s jangly ‘80s sound over their blockbuster early ‘90s albums. But the lead single off their underrated 1994 record Monster might be my favorite song of theirs.

“What’s The Frequency, Kenneth?” sounds like very few other R.E.M. songs. There’s no mandolins, and Michael Stipe’s lyrics are much clearer (although they make little sense). Instead of being bouncy and light, the guitars are a blast of crunchy distortion, not far off from a typical Smashing Pumpkins song.

In fact, Peter Buck’s guitar work here is what makes “Kenneth.” His echo-y sound adds a raw texture to the tune. And although the lyrics are a bit cryptic (apparently it’s about Boomers trying to advertise to Gen Xers? I have no clue), Stipe’s melody is on-point, as usual.

Although the sound of alt-rock had long passed by R.E.M.’s original style, “Kenneth” showed that the Georgia legends were more than able to keep up.

#11: “Steal My Sunshine” by Len (1999)

This sunburnt ode to being young and dumb in the gloriously young-and-dumb late ‘90s is the greatest summer anthem of all time. And the greatest one-hit-wonder of all time.

“Steal My Sunshine” is the soundtrack to driving with the windows down, goofing with your friends and pretty much any positive aspect of summer. Gloriously dumb and kitschy-fun summer songs like this are perfect examples of why the late-’90s was a golden age for pop.

#10: “Man! I Feel Like A Woman!” by Shania Twain (1997)

While we’re talking about that late-’90s pop boom, how crazy is it that the era’s best single is technically a country song? 

Of course, “Man! I Feel Like A Woman!” is barely a country song — yes, there’s some violins and slide guitar buried in the mix, but there’s also a thundering synth riff and Twain barely has a Southern twang (makes sense, seeing as she’s Canadian). And there’s no mention of any country tropes like pickup trucks or whiskey in the lyrics.

What “Man!” does bring to the table is a tongue-in-cheek, groovy pop-rock jam that’s just as easy to love as it is to make jokes about. Sure, it’s corny as hell — see the obvious joke in the song’s title — but Twain is clearly having way too much fun to care. And in a decade filled with angst and irony, a super-cheesy pop jam like this probably seemed like a needed salvo.

And the Mutt Lange production on this has some serious oomph to it. Before his extensive work with Twain, his then-wife, Lange was arguably best known for mastering the roided-out arena rock sound of the ‘80s, assisting on classic tunes from The Cars, AC/DC and Def Leppard. He even gave us this beautifully ridiculous Billy Ocean track, which might be the greatest song ever written. Lange brings some weight to “Man!”, making Twain’s female-empowerment anthem an actual anthem.

Listen, if this song isn’t for you, I get it. But for those of us who have the prerogative to have a little fun, “Man! I Feel Like A Woman!” is the pinnacle of one of pop’s greatest eras.

#9: “Check The Rhime” by A Tribe Called Quest (1991)

A lot of ‘90s rap hasn’t aged well, even if it’s still a ton of fun. Albums from Dr. Dre and Puff Daddy and even Jay-Z can sound like time capsules. But that’s not a problem that A Tribe Called Quest has, as their smooth jazz-rap still sounds timeless and perfect.

“Check The Rhime” is the Queens group’s brightest highlight off of their 1991 magnum opus, The Low End Theory. It’s a simple setup: MCs Q-Tip and Phife Dawg introduce the other rapper by reminiscing about freestyling on street corners back in the day. Then, both Tip and Phife get their own verse, each stuffed with playful lines and life advice — Industry Rule 4080 still holds to this day.

Unlike a lot of ‘90s hip-hop that was trying desperately to either be menacing or cool, Tip and Phife ooze effortless charisma on their verses in a playful, almost childlike way. Phife starts his verse reminding everyone “how nice I am” (before proclaiming that he flips off “punk MCs”). Tip even seems to diss MC Hammer by saying “rap is not pop/if you call it that then stop,” but apparently, this was meant as a defense of the then-megastar. Maybe.

“Check The Rhime” works partially because of its funky, minimalist production, but also because the Tribe’s two rappers were born to spit non sequiturs and awkward brags over a jazz-rap beat until the end of time.

#8: “I Wanna Be Your Joey Ramone” by Sleater-Kinney (1996)

I’m not sure how flamingly hot of a take this is, but I’d say Sleater-Kinney is the greatest band in Northwest history. Yes, better than Nirvana. 

1997′s Dig Me Out is a flawless masterpiece, and there’s not a single dud in their eight-album discography. Unlike many of the major Washington acts from this era, the Olympia three-piece never lost relevancy, releasing some of their strongest work in the 2000′s.

But Sleater-Kinney’s best single, “I Wanna Be Your Joey Ramone,” is actually from one of their early albums. And it serves as a thesis statement for the decades of great music to come.

Legendary guitarist Carrie Brownstein takes over vocals here, nailing both the sardonic verses and the thrilling, off-kilter chorus. “Joey Ramone” tackles an interesting subject: how almost all of indie rock’s heroes up to that point had been male. So when Brownstein wails about wanting to be Joey Ramone or Thurston Moore, she’s placing Sleater-Kinney in the pantheon of rock greats. And this was just their second album.

Luckily, Sleater-Kinney had the goods to back up their chutzpah, and “Joey Ramone” became prophetic.

#7: “Supersonic” by Oasis (1994)

Just a couple months after Kurt Cobain’s death, two unibrowed guys from Manchester (and the rest of their band) completely upended the rock world with their band Oasis’ debut album, Definitely Maybe. After a few years of gloom-and-doom dominating the genre, it, along with fellow hit albums from Blur and Pulp, helped usher in the brighter world of Britpop in the mid-’90s.

That album’s first single, “Supersonic,” is still the greatest thing Oasis ever produced. (Yes, it’s better than “Wonderwall.”)

“Supersonic” is a blast of rude, snotty rock-n-roll cranked up to 11. In an era of irony and sarcasm, lead singer Liam Gallagher was spouting out nonsense lyrics like they were the most important and coolest thing in the world. And for the four-and-a-half minutes of this song, they probably are.

Everything about “Supersonic” is boneheaded perfection, from the thunderous drums to the dual guitars, one crunchy, one soaring; all the way to Liam’s sneer. This is prime Oasis, the band running on all cylinders. Based on how ramshackle this sounds, it’s no wonder the band only stayed great for two albums. But at least we’ll always have that legendary start.

#6: “1979″ by The Smashing Pumpkins (1995)

On the opposite end of the cool spectrum as Oasis and Sleater-Kinney, you have Billy Corgan — singer/songwriter/control freak of The Smashing Pumpkins and alt-rock’s most weaselly, petty figure. But say what you want about him as a person, Corgan wrote some incredible alt-rock pop nuggets.

“1979″ is a major outlier in the Pumpkins’ discography. It’s not an angsty shoegaze/grunge banger or an orchestral power ballad. It’s a low-key, skeletal new-wave track that perfectly captures the boredom and aimlessness of youth.

While many songs about being a teenager capture either its euphoric highs or angsty lows, “1979″ is one of the few classic songs that nails the in-between moments. It’s the feeling of walking to the 7-Eleven with your friends, cracking jokes that you’ll probably forget the next day. It’s about sitting in a parking lot and just waiting to leave your hometown.

"1979″ isn’t a grand gesture, but in a backwards way, that makes it even more profound. And from a band who typically dealt in soaring, intensely emotional songs, it was a brilliant change-of-pace that will no-doubt be relatable to teens for a long time to come.

#5: “Rebel Girl” by Bikini Kill (1993)

Two massively important alt-rock movements came from the Puget Sound in the early ‘90s. One is grunge. The other is riot grrrl, centered around a group of furious, political women-led bands in Olympia. And although Sleater-Kinney may be the subgenre’s longest-lasting act, its brightest moment came in 1993 with Bikini Kill and their incendiary single “Rebel Girl.”

Lead singer/songwriter/punk icon Kathleen Hanna is the focal point of “Rebel Girl,” wailing away on the microphone about an unnamed woman who is just the absolute coolest. The woman is described as a confident, revolutionary lesbian figure who would serve as an inspiration for angsty teens across the globe.

And oh yeah — “Rebel Girl” absolutely shreds. It sounds like there’s maybe 18 guitars going at once on the track, and Tobi Vail’s drum work is fearsome. Just to give more rock cred to the song, it was produced and features guitar work from Joan Jett. The rock legend and Bikini Kill made a great pairing, creating a song that sounds angry, with its distorted guitars and punk drums, but is actually a triumphant feminist anthem for the ages.

#4: “Linger” by The Cranberries (1993)

In an early-’90s rock scene filled with distorted guitars and raw angst, The Cranberries broke out in 1993 with a song that sounded nothing like the crowd. And over 25 years later, their stunningly gorgeous single “Linger” has aged far better than most of the grunge and alt-rock it was surrounded by.

The Irish four-piece took inspiration from Cocteau Twins’ and Galaxie 500′s dream pop and just made the hooks even more bulletproof and melancholy. “Linger” is the kind of ballad that’s a perfect fit for a longing prom slow dance and for crying with a tub of Ben & Jerry’s on the couch after a break up.

The late Dolores O’Riordan’s lilting vocals are a miracle here, able to express both hope and resignation. Her heavy Irish accent helps the vocals become another instrument in the band’s sweeping wall of sound, alongside the jangly guitars, marching-beat drums and orchestral swells.

It’s the most beautiful song of an ugly (in a good way!) decade, and arguably the greatest dream pop song ever written. The Cranberries would later adopt the heavy guitars of their Seattle peers, but “Linger” is still a high-water mark for the subgenre.

#3: “Juicy” by The Notorious B.I.G. (1994)

The first verse alone could’ve gotten “Juicy” into this list’s top 10. It’s one of the most-memorable and quotable verses of all time, exquisitely detailing The Notorious B.I.G.’s rise to fame. And then we get two more stellar verses?! 

“Juicy” is frequently cited among one of the greatest hip-hop songs of all time, and it’s deserving of that reputation. Biggie penned the definitive rags-to-riches story in just five minutes (honestly, more like four, as he and producer Puff Daddy let the beat ride for a bit at the end) and then blessed it with his silky-smooth, commanding flow.

What separates “Juicy” from other come-up anthems is the vivid detail Biggie gives us, both about his impoverished Brooklyn upbringing (“We used to fuss when the landlord dissed us/No heat, wondered why Christmas missed us”) and his stunning rise to fame (“Girls used to diss me/Now they write letters cause they miss me”). He even brags about owning a Super Nintendo AND a Sega Genesis, which was the biggest early-90′s flex possible.

Of course, knowing the tragic ending of Biggie’s story, “Juicy” has a bit of a bittersweet feeling to it now. But its ‘80′s-retro beat and infectious glee can still bring a smile to my face every time I hear it.

#2: “Smells Like Teen Spirit” by Nirvana (1991)

Well, duh.

There is no song that encapsulates an entire decade and generation like “Smells Like Teen Spirit” does for the ‘90′s and Gen X. It famously changed the entire rock landscape nearly overnight from sleazy hair metal to grimy alt-rock. It’s one of the most famous and iconic songs ever written. And shockingly, it still retains all of its revolutionary power nearly 30 years later.

How does “Smells Like Teen Spirit” pull off the balancing act of being a time capsule, yet still sounding remarkably fresh? I believe it’s because it captures the raw feeling of visceral rage and confusion better than nearly any song. Most angry songs have a target, whether its racist politicians, stuffy adults, or even a crappy ex. “Teen Spirit” has no tangible reason for its angst. Kurt Cobain’s lyrics are famously nonsense. And that’s what makes the song so brilliant.

Because the song is so emotionally powerful in a visceral way, it really doesn’t matter that the lyrics are meaningless. All you need to love the song is to connect with the anger buried deep, and start moshing the moment Dave Grohl’s instantly-recognizable drum fill meets the clanging guitars. It’s a total banger.

Cobain might not have had the intent of creating a generational anthem that would last beyond Gen X. But as long as people feel “stupid and contagious” alongside a creeping rise of angst, waiting to burst, “Teen Spirit” will remain relevant.

#1: “Common People” by Pulp (1995)

For a subgenre entirely built around a particular country’s culture, most major Britpop acts surprisingly refrained from politics. Oasis never sniffed the subject, and while Blur got close, songs like “Parklife” or “Stereotypes” were more winking jokes than bold statements.

Then there’s Pulp. Their most beloved track, “Common People,” is a scathing attack on the British upper class who indulge in poverty tourism, unaware of how the other half really lives. And it’s the best song of the ‘90s.

There are few things I love more than a perfectly executed story-song, and lead singer/songwriter Jarvis Cocker gives listeners a doozy here. “Common People” is about a rich woman talking to, well, a common person, and she decides she wants the poor guy to show her how to “live like common people.” Cocker’s songwriting is very literary, going into detail about the woman’s history and her botched attempt to act poor while shopping for groceries, as well as all the lower-class problems the wealthy will never understand. As Cocker bluntly puts it, “If you call your dad/he could stop it all.”

“Common People” is just as furious as “Teen Spirit,” but Cocker has clear targets here: the one-percent, and the misguided idea that poverty is somehow cool. The song starts calmly, almost at a whisper, but by the final, heart-pounding climax, Cocker is wailing away, condemning the upper-class with gusto.

The swelling disco-rock groove channels this anger into an absurdly catchy tune — an odd combination of musical tone and lyrics, but one that’s effective. It’s a giant middle finger that you can sing along to.

Britpop might have ended, but the sentiment of “Common People” is still fresh today as a righteous anthem for the trod-upon.