Here is a list (in no particular order) of 16 of the “most rockin”” rock n’ roll songs of all time. Debate?
AC/DC – It’s A Long Way to the Top (If You Wanna Rock N Roll)
No list of great rock n’ roll is complete without AC/DC, a band who for my money perfectly embodies all that is balls-out rawk. The only trouble is, which individual cut to high-light? When it comes to Malcolm Young and Co. it’s really something of a coin toss as, like the Ramones before their untimely end, AC/DC have pretty much been writing one song since the mid 70s. But what a badass tune it is. Slashing, no-frills guitar, the most airtight rhythm section in history pulsing like a heartbeat, one of two oversexed ugly guys wailin’ n’ sneerin’ on top (plus, in this instance, a pitch modified set of bag pipes), the recipe is undeniable. And as for the man Bon Scott himself, there have been plenty of great writers who have found themselves lyricists for rock n’ roll outfits. But Bon was, is, and always will be THE rock poet. From his celebrations of unconventionally beautiful (and morally dubious) ladies, to his knowing yet un-ironic fist-in-the-air exaltations of rock n’ roll itself, Bon always said just the right thing in just the right way. Only Bon could, as he does here, make what is essentially a litany of all the horrible shit that can befall you in the world of rock n’ roll and make it sound like the most fun you could ever have.
MC5 — Kick Out The Jams
Rob Tyner himself said it best in 1991, “We were Punk before Punk. We were New Wave before New Wave. We were Metal before Metal. We were even ‘MC’ before Hammer. Depending upon your perspective we were the electro-mechanical climax of the age, or some sort of cruel counter-culture hoax. We were considered killer, righteous, high energy dudes who could pitch a wang dang doodle all night long.” The Motor City Five are one of the few bands in rock history to take the revolution in “revolutionary spirit” seriously, advocating free and public sex, drugs, and a complete collapse of proper society. Granted much of that was hype, and came courtesy of their guru John Sinclair. Indeed the actual music of the Five is no more (and actually significantly less) political than that of Black Sabbath, but what the music did bring was a hydrogen bomb of righteous indignation and youth-fueled power. It was the MC5 and ONLY the MC5 who had the sack to actually play Lincoln Park in Chicago ’68 just prior to Mayor Daley bringing the hammer down, when many of their bigger-named (but less brave) contemporaries backed out. It was the MC5 who faced police intimidation usually reserved for dark-skinned community activists, not long-haired dopeheaded guitar players. And it’s the MC5 who continue to excite the imagination of generation after generation of rebellious teenagers and encourage them to crank up their shitty amps, holler obscenities into fried-out microphones, and act like such a thing actually makes any difference. Because it does.
Iggy and the Stooges — Search and Destroy
“I’m a street-walkin’ cheetah with a heart full of napalm!” Even if Search and Destroy had been the only song Jim Osterberg and the Bros. Asheton had ever written it would have made Iggy and The Stooges rock n’ roll legends. This barely-contained grease fire of a song was a full decade ahead of its time and continues to be the high-water mark for what punk rock, hard rock, and rock in general can achieve with a couple of dirty chords, a throbbing bass, a haphazard beat, and a jabbering lunatic up front. Either you’re down with this cut or you’re an ABBA-suckling douche hose. There’s no gray area.
Bo Diddley – Hey! Bo Diddley
He didn’t have the finesse or the chops of Ike Turner, he didn’t have the pop sensibility of Chuck Berry, he didn’t have the image or the sex appeal of Little Richard. But what Bo Diddley had in the late 1950s, and what he had until his death, is the primal, primitive urge to rock as hard as it is possible to rock. (He also has the cocksure arrogance to name every third song after himself.) Shouting, strutting, grinding, shaking, pounding on his ass-ugly box six-string like it spoke ill of his mama, Bo Diddley taught a legion of thrashers that the guitar ain’t a melodic instrument, it’s percussion. It’s true that over his half-century career Bo pretty much re-wrote the same three rhumba-based tunes over and over. It’s also true that Bo is to blame for every George Thorogood-wanna-be bar band in every town across the Midwest. But none of that matters. Just listen to a live recording from 1960 or so of Hey! Bo Diddley. And try to listen closely to what’s happening in the distance. It’s the sound of Conservative White America shitting itself.
Jimi Hendrix Experience – Voodoo Chile (Slight Return)
To say Jimi Hendrix is the “greatest rock guitarist of all time,” as many reflexively do, is to really miss the point. Hendrix was a conjurer of magic both dark and light, a sonic sorcerer, and/or perhaps an alien from a much hipper galaxy come to help the human race take a crucial evolutionary step forward. He could also, when necessity dictated, rock out with his (apparently sizable) cock out. This second version of Voodoo Child/e from Hendrix’s masterpiece Electric Ladyland has everything a rocker could want: crushing rhythms, blazing fretwork, and the immortal promise, “If I don’t see you no more in this world, I’ll meet you in the next one. And don’t be late!” Should such a place exist Jimi’s probably already been there and moved on several times since. He never was one to wait around.
Screamin’ Jay Hawkins – I Put a Spell On You
Often what is great about rock n’ roll is also what’s ridiculous about it. And in this case Screamin’ Jay Hawkins is exhibit A. Blessed with the most powerful and gorgeous baritone this side of Paul Robeson, Jalacy Hawkins could (and probably should) have been an opera singer, a respected purveyor of classic Negro Spirituals, or a Broadway star. Instead he shoved a bone through his nose, crawled out of a coffin, shrieked and hollered like a schizophrenic with Tourettes Syndrome, sang songs about constipation, and sired enough illegitimate children to fill a sports arena. Without Screamin’ Jay we’d have no Alice Cooper, no Crazy World of Arthur Brown, no GG Allin, no GWAR, no Rob Zombie, no Marilyn Manson, and whether or not you think he should be praised or cursed for that says more about you than it does him. But there was always much more to Hawkins than the cartoonish shock factor, and I Put a Spell On You is proof. Covered by artists as diverse as CCR, Nina Simone, and the aforementioned Mr. Manson, and brilliant in every different form, this composition is sexy, creepy, slithery, insistent, and genuinely funny . . . in an unsettling sort of way. And as always it’s Screamin’ Jay Hawkins who has the last laugh –or rather maniacal last cackle – all to himself.
Motorhead – Motorhead
“Sunrise wrong side of another day / Sky-high and six thousand miles away / Don’t know how long I’ve been awake/ Wound up in an amazing state/ Can’t get enough / and you know it’s righteous stuff / Goes up like prices at Christmas / Motorhead!
You can call me Motorhead, all right!”
Even at their most snarling and menacing, what sets Motorhead apart from many of their colleagues in the metal world is a tangible undercurrent of pure, unbridled joy. After being ousted from psychedelic legends Hawkwind (“because I did the wrong kinds of drugs” Lemmy claims) Ian “Lemmy” Kilmister set out to create the gnarliest, loudest, dirtiest band the world had ever seen. And after changing the name from Bastard to Motorhead, Kilmister introduced the world to his new band with this blistering ode to amphetamines (a revamped version of a song he’d written in Hawkwind) via their ’79 debut On Parole (and perfected, some would argue, on the live disc No Sleep ‘Til Hammersmith). And the world, truly, was never the same.
“Brained out total amnesia / Got some mental anaesthesia / Don’t move, I’ll shut the door and kill the lights / If I can be wrong, I must be right / All good clean fun / have another stick of gum / Man you’re looking better already / Motorhead! Remember me now, Motorhead, all right!”
If you’ve ever heard even a small bit of Motorhead there is no need for me to describe their sound to you, but I think it is worth pointing out Lemmy’s oft-overlooked gifts as a lyricist, and show that, at his best, he gives Bon Scott pretty stiff competition for the title of Rock N’ Roll Poet Laureate:
“Fourth day, five day marathon / We’re moving like a parallelogram / Don’t move, the morning’s not a pretty sight / I guess I’ll see you all on the other side / I should be tired / but I’m already wired / I ain’t felt this good for an hour/ Motorhead! Remember me now, Motorhead, all right!”
Lou Reed eat your heart out.
Howlin’ Wolf – Smokestack Lightnin’
It’s always a bit risky to include ostensibly non-rock acts on a list of greatest rock songs, but certain exceptions must be made. Few people can make the line “Lord don’t you hear me cryin’ Whoo Whoo Hooooo!” sound, not only manly, but downright badass. But then, very few people are Howlin’ Wolf. In every possible way larger than life, Chester “Howlin’ Wolf” Burnett was not just a phenomenal singer, he was a force of nature. The legend that no microphone could withstand the power of his gargantuan voice is not just tall tales and hyperbole. And to take nothing away from Ray Davies and The Kinks, Wolf and his original lead guitarist Willie Johnson were pumping out waves of loud, distorted electric guitar in the 1940s. Sadly Wolf and Johnson only cut a handful of sides together, but the ones they did laid the blueprint for Black Sabbath, The MC5, The Stooges, and at least 90% of the other acts on this list. Smokestack Lightnin’ sounds exactly like what it’s about: a massive locomotive barreling down the tracks. It doesn’t care if you’re in the way, it ain’t slowing down. Step aside or be crushed.
The Groundhogs – Bog Roll Blues
If there was any justice at all, The Groundhogs would be the biggest band in the universe, and all 246 of us who have ever heard them agree. Alas, justice being what it is, Tony McFee and the boys (a band I mistakenly called The Mighty Groundhogs for two solid decades) are likely the most obscure selection on this list. With their full-tilt hard blues boogie stomp, deft musicianship, superior songcraft, and Tony’s gritty, soulful voice and socially conscious lyrics, The Groundhogs could give Cream, Grand Funk Railroad, Blind Faith, or any other band of that ilk a run for their vast riches. I choose Bog Roll Blues from their magnificent lp Who Will Save the World? to hold place for the ‘Hogs on this list not because it is their single best cut, or because it’s an adequate stand-in for a similar-sounding repertoire, but because to my knowledge this band has never written or recorded a single weak song, and I had to pick something. As smart as The Clash, as skilled as Rush, as raw as The Stooges, as heavy as Deep Purple, The Groundhogs may, like Acid Bath and Gil Scott-Heron in their respective genres, be simply too good for most people to handle. Do yourself a favor and pick up Split, Who Will Save the World? or Thank Christ for the Bomb by the mighty Groundhogs. You’ll be glad you did.
Aerosmith – Toys In The Attic
For those of you who know Aerosmith primarily as “the band with that elf chick’s dad” or from their celebrated video collaborations with flash-in-the-pan Hollywood trifle Alicia Silverstone, you may be surprised to hear just how hard Boston’s answer to The Rolling Stones rocked in their coke-addled heyday. And of that period nothing touches the title cut from their 1975 masterwork Toys In The Attic. Chugging, relentless, and spitting delicious poison, Aerosmith perfectly capture the sound and the feel of a group of out of control young men right on the brink of plunging off the deep end (far, far better than they did on their after-the-fact hit Living On the Edge. In fact, I’m sorry I even brought that song up). They’ve never been better, and few others have ever even come close.
The Ramones – Blitzkrieg Bop
It was the early ‘70s. Joey came in on the left, feeling dissatisfied with the state of rock. It had gotten too exclusive, “rock royalty” was the rule of the land, and Joey thought rock n’ roll should be a party that everyone was invited too. Johnny came in from the right, also not digging the landscape. He felt that rock n’ roll had gotten too complex, too intellectual, too trippy and weird (also too liberal). So they met in the middle, looking for a different formula. From there they took the tone and shape of Sabbath’s “hit” Paranoid, applied it to the simple 3-minute-3 three-chord rock n’ roll pop of the late ‘50s/early ‘60s and stuck with it. If you’re looking for a proper example of what the Ramones could offer at their best, then look ye no further than Blitzkrieg Bop: loud, fast, young, stupid, and fist-pumpin’ awesome in its sheer rockin’ness. Hey! Ho! Let’s go!
The Kinks – You Really Got Me
As mentioned above, Ray Davies did not invent the distorted electric guitar. But it was You Really Got Me coming out of Davies’s razor-slit speaker cones where most whites kids heard it first, and from that point on white youth (boys in particular) latched onto the sound as an indelible signifier of their identity. Most importantly, though, the song has held up over the years and can still bring the hairs on the back of your neck straight up. There’s not much to the song, but what’s there is all that’s needed.
Little Richard – Lucille
The world was not ready for Little Richard when he first made the scene in the mid-1950s. It probably still isn’t today. He and his music were/are that strange alternate zone where R&B met boogie-woogie, Black met white, sacred met profane, gay and straight met other, and rock n’ roll (de debbil’s music) is actually a glorious gift from the Almighty. One spin of Richard’s full-tilt four-on-the-floor stomper Lucille (apparently an ode to some drag queen) is almost enough to make us look past the grotesque self-parody he has become today and understand why he is such an influence on everyone from Prince to Motorhead.
Sly and the Family Stone – I Wanna Take You Higher
Today Sylvester Stewart –aka Sly Stone– is a hermit, a living drug casualty, and a heart-breaking example of wasted talent and squandered potential. But that does not change the fact that he has written some of the most amazing music to ever come from this continent or any other. Funk-rock, psychedelic soul, call it what you will, the music of Sly and the Family Stone is angry and joyful, raucous and inviting, hard-driving yet still nuanced, and most of all, flat-out exhilarating. Although the studio version is astounding in its own right, the live version of I Wanna Take You Higher from Woodstock can alter your DNA. It is the sound of the loudest Church Tent Revival ever, if the tent could hold half a million people. And in Sly’s tent all were welcome . . .but you’d better be ready to get down. “It’ll do ya no harm.”
Nirvana – Negative Creep
Of course Smells Like Teen Spirit is the song that most point to as Nirvana’s definitive composition, and I suppose a lot of people continue to connect with the lines “I feel stupid and contagious/ here we are now, entertain us” as much now as they did back then. Fair play to them. But the 14-year-old me was far more in line with, “I’m a negative creep, I’m a negative creep, I’m a negative creep AND I’M STOOOOOONED!” (For that matter, the 32-year-old me is too.) As far as I’m concerned Nirvana were never better than this dirty, scuzzy, sneering, half-brain-dead piss grenade. This is the band at their Melvins-worshipping best.
Black Sabbath – The Wizard
Given my slavish devotion to The Church of Metal some may be surprised by the relatively small amount of metal on this list. The reason is pretty simple. Although they are bastard cousins from the same inbred family, what I personally love about rock n’ roll is its exuberance, but what I love about metal is its intensity. Granted, there is plenty of crossover, and the best acts have a mix of both. Sabbath are definitely in that camp.
What comes to mind for most people when the name Black Sabbath is uttered is plodding, apocalyptic, doom-laden sludge. However, this band could (and still can) lay down a rawk-solid, booty-shakin’ groove on a dime, and leave “all the people feeling so fine.” The Wizard is, in that regard, both the epitome of the Sabbath sound and something of an anomaly in their ouvure.
We open with Ozzy Osbourne’s amateur-but-inspired harmonica wailing all on its own. Then, without warning, we are smashed into bits by the 10-ton concrete slab of Tony Iommi’s guitar, Geezer Butler’s bass, and Bill Ward’s drums working in unholy tandem. From there it’s four and a half minutes of deafening, hash-thick ecstasy, and also a prime example of what a Rorschach test Black Sabbath are. Are they . . .dark but righteous anti-government peaceniks? Evil, Manson-esque anti-hippies? Satanic conjurers? Superstitious Christians? Low-class brumie thugs? Rock star degenerates? Is The Wizard literally about a particularly popular local necromancer? Or is it a dope song shout-out to an exceptionally generous pusherman? Answer: Yes.
