1,001 songs to listen to before you die...

[Liam]

166.      

‘Sinnerman’, Nina Simone (1965)

By far the longest song on the list thus far at about double the length of the leader up until this point, this was a traditional gospel standard that was given new life by Simone. A staple of her live show, this was the first time that it had been committed to an album (Pastel Blues). Simone had been getting further involved in the civil rights movement and this song gave the album a positive, emphatic finish. I’ve never really heard the song past the opening minute or two, so it was a novel experience to get the full ten minutes. Whilst I’m not going to knock the studio version, I can only imagine that this was a stunningly effective means through which to finish a live set, leaving the fans invigorated and revitalised.

167.      

‘The Irish Rover’, The Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem (1965)

A song that went on to be famously (I guess – it is at least the version I am aware of) covered by the Pogues and the Dubliners, ‘The Irish Rover’ had disputed roots but has been claimed to be 19th century Irish sea shanty. The lyrics tell a story of a boat travelling to New York with a load of bricks, only to end up wrecked on the high seas. Every version of this gets the toes tapping and begs to be sung along to, whilst the humour in the lyrics adds another layer to the whole shebang. I’m higher on this than some might be, but just love it.

168.      

‘Needle of Death’, Bert Jansch (1965)

I didn’t really know what to expect when you add the interesting title and the face that I’ve got no idea who Jansch is having never heard of him, let alone his music. What I got was a beautifully poignant song about the death of David Polly, a guitarist who had died due to a heroin and cocaine overdose. This was a Jansch-penned song amongst an album of old standards and is as touching in its delivery as it is lyrically. Simple, folky guitar supports Jansch’s plaintive vocals, with this being perhaps one of the earlier examples to explore the effect of drugs on those in the music industry.

[MalaCloudy Black]

I've already listened to Irish Rover 3 times.

[Liam]

4 minutes ago, How The Cloud Stole Christ said:

I've already listened to Irish Rover 3 times.

 

[MalaCloudy Black]

I prefer this one.

 

[GoGo Yubari]

On 06/03/2020 at 02:26, How The Cloud Stole Christ said:

I only recognize "Go 'Way From My Window" because of Bob Dylan.

 

I know it from Carolyn Hester's version, which I think is an interesting blend of a similar falsetto to John Jacob Niles' original with a more wistful, folk-y guitar accompaniment:

 

[Skummy]

I love Bert Jansch. I think it was Johnny Marr who apparently met him for a cup of tea while remastering one of his old albums, and said, "did you realise, back then, that what you were doing was so much heavier than all the people around you bragging about how heavy their music was?", and apparently Jansch just sipped his tea and said "of course".

My favourite track of his is "Poison", which feels like if Nick Drake got angry instead of depressed;

 

"Sinnerman" is a song my old band used to play, actually long before I ever heard Simone's version. As we did a lot of our songs at the time, we just took the lyrics from an old book of folk songs, and figured out a tune to fit. I was blown away the first time I heard Nina sing it.

The Irish Rover is brilliant.

 

[Liam]

169.      

‘Papa’s Got A Brand New Bag’, James Brown (1965)

Some songs are just the aural equivalent of swag; this is one of them. This is considered the first song of what would be considered ‘funk’, with a harder sound that focused on the downbeat. Horns, guitars and Brown’s iconic vocal stylings (grunts and all). Whilst it still sounds cool today, I can imagine it sounding incredibly vital around the time it was released. A song that just makes you want to move.

170.      

‘La boheme’, Charles Aznavour (1965)

They do love a French song on this list – not that that is necessarily a bad thing as they have more often than not delivered. Aznavour had done what he could do make it in showbusiness, even taking a job as Edith Piaf’s chauffeur. This is another song about looking back on a past love, with strings and piano to match the melancholy tone. Aznavour is a good singer, yet it is the slightly rough edge that he has which works (something that the book points out) to the benefit of the song. It makes him one of us, easier to empathise with and someone we want to drink with to his lost love. Understated beauty from start to finish.

171.      

‘California Dreamin’’, The Mamas and the Papas (1965)

Influenced by: Mr. Tambourine Man • The Byrds (1965)   

Influence on: Sunday Will Never Be the Same • Spanky and Our Gang (1967)   

Covered by: The Seekers (1966) • Bobby Womack (1968) • The Four Tops (1969) • M.I.A. (1985) • The Beach Boys (1986)

Is there a better example of a song that everyone has – at least once – tried to sing along to? Written by John and Michelle Phillips, the latter’s longing for California the spark for the narrative, it mixes folk and pop in an irresistible tune. The harmonising is beautiful from all of the members of the group, whilst the simple musical accompaniment adds a toe-tapping/head nodding melody to the whole thing. Until it was pointed out, I hadn’t really noticed the slight unease throughout the song – a layer that subconsciously added an interesting wrinkle to an otherwise quite straightforward song, perhaps.

[MalaCloudy Black]

My dad introduced me to James Brown. Which is weird. Considering the virulent racism. 

[Liam]

172.      

‘Ticket To Ride’, The Beatles (1965)

Influenced by: When You Walk in the Room • The Searchers (1964)  

Influence on: Tomorrow Never Knows • The Beatles (1966)   

Covered by: The 5th Dimension (1967) • The Carpenters (1969) • The Punkles (1998)

The first of perhaps a number of Beatles songs and one that I'm personally a fan of. Whilst it isn’t the best song in their catalogue, it is definitely a step above some of their saccharine pop tunes that don’t age as well as some of the songs they released. The stop/start nature of the drums as well as the melancholy nature of the lyrics made this sound like a sonic departure from what the Beatles had become known for, thus making it almost most interesting just by proxy as much as anything else. What always underpins a Beatles song is the earworm element – it is rare to hear a Beatles song (in my opinion) and not feel like singing along at least a little bit. Ticket to Ride definitely has this element nailed down.

173.      

‘(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction’, The Rolling Stones (1965)

Influenced by: Dancing in the Street • Martha & The Vandellas (1964)   

Influence on: Sunshine of Your Love • Cream (1967)   

Covered by: Sandie Shaw (1968) • The Troggs (1975) • Devo (1977) • Tom Jones (1996) • Cat Power (2000) • Britney Spears (2000)

Never having really considered it before, it feels strange to have this song in such close proximity to the Beatles’ output. For some reason, this just feels more 70s to me, which perhaps is why it stood out amongst the other songs released this year as it felt ahead of the curve. This was another song that came to a singer/songwriter in their sleep as Keith Richards woke up, played the riff and sang the title into a recorder, before falling asleep once more. Divine intervention indeed. The fuzzy, grimey feeling of the guitar from that intro onwards still rocks today, whilst Jagger had the right lip-curling sneer to his vocals to make the band sound that little bit aggressive and dangerous. I’ve never been a huge Rolling Stones fan, but this is undoubtedly a belter of a tune.

174.      

‘Tracks of my Tears’, The Miracles (1965)

As mentioned in the book, it is perhaps the eloquence of Smokey Robinson’s lyrics that stand out when you dig a little deeper – anyone that can just casually drop the word ‘substitute’ a song is impressive. Robinson’s vocal delivery sells the narrative of the lyrics, whilst horns and drums add a slightly more bombastic tone (apparently more akin to output from Stax than Motown, The Miracles’ actual label). It only reached 16 in the US charts, but enjoyed a resurgence due to covers and its use in some big eighties movies such as Platoon, and I for one am pleased that that was the case.

Edited March 12, 2020 by Liam

[Pooker]

I was starting to get worried that there wasn't any Beatles songs on this list. Glad to see I was wrong.

[GoGo Yubari]

I genuinely can't remember which Beatles songs they went with so I'm curious how many/which are coming.

From my recollection, most of the big Beatles albums from A Hard Day's Night on are in 1001 Albums, though they skipped one of Revolver or Rubber Soul and I can't remember which (I think it was the latter).

[Liam]

175.       

‘Mr. Tambourine Man’, The Byrds (1965)

I’ve grown to like Bob Dylan a lot more over the years as I’ve become more accustomed to his work, yet I’ve often been of the opinion that he is a better writer than he is a performer. I’ve often felt that the tunes he writes are performed better by other people. However, I do like Dylan’s ‘Mr. Tambourine Man’, so this isn’t necessarily the case for this song. That’s not to say that the Byrds version isn’t good – indeed, Dylan himself loved that The Byrds did to his song, turning it into a slightly more upbeat song tonally that he thought you could dance to. For me, I have nothing much more to say about it; it is an enjoyable piece of folky rock that is understated, yet catchy.

176.      

‘Like A Rolling Stone’, Bob Dylan

Influenced by: Lost Highway • Hank Williams (1949)   

Influence on: Hey Jude • The Beatles (1968)   

Covered by: The Turtles (1965) • Cher (1966) • The Jimi Hendrix Experience (1970) • Spirit (1975) • Mick Ronson (1994) • The Rolling Stones (1995) • Nancy Sinatra (1999) • Green Day (2009)

Claimed by many to be Dylan’s best song, it is definitely a spiralling epic of a tune when you compare it to what existed around it at this time. It feels like it goes on forever, yet in a positive fashion. Dylan’s sneery and acerbic vocals/lyrics are good, but it is the music that works most for me here. In particular, the electronic organ that offers what is effectively the riff, alongside the harmonica, make this the song it becomes. In terms of its wider importance, it charted highly, breaking the expectations for what could and could not be a single.

177.      

‘People Get Ready’, The Impressions (1965)

This is another perfect example of a song that was pleasant enough, yet its importance becomes more apparent when the lyrics are explored in more detail or the background story known a bit better. Using the gospel idea of a train journey, The Impressions sang beautifully about black unity and a hope for a better future. The song did little outside of the ordinary to catch my attention, but time, place and person when it was released would have made it something special.

[Liam]

178.      

‘Who Do You Love’, The Preachers (1965)

And things get ever noisier. The Preachers didn’t last very long and the lead singer was eventually fired for his over the top vocal style, yet this Bo Diddley cover became a garage rock staple. There is just non-stop noise from the opening all the way through to the shouting that closes out the song. It feels almost punky in nature, though still with enough of a focus on hooks. Very out there for its time and a definite eye (ear?) opener for what was out there alongside your acts like the Beatles and the Stones.

179.      

‘The Carnival is Over’, The Seekers (1965)

A rare example (so far) of an Australian band turning up on the list. The focus on the book’s entry is that strength of the lead vocals, the harmonising and the strings. I say this primarily because the song did little for me in the grand scheme of things. Yes, Judith Durham has a good voice and the harmony of it all is pleasant enough, but as for its position on a list such as this? I’m not so sure.

180.      

‘Psycho’, The Sonics (1965)

Tacoma, Washington was the home to five teenagers who called themselves ‘The Sonics’, and it was this distance from some of the glitzier music hubs that meant their rock and roll sound lacked some of the polish that their contemporaries did. Not that that is something to complain about as the rawness and vitality make it a really good song still today. Hooky, yet with a grungy tone throughout, it is just over two minutes of what rock and roll perhaps should have sounded more when the tone set out to match the ideals.

[Bobfoc]

I'm going to disagree on your thoughts about The Carnival is Over, and it's partly because of my own personal bias. It's one of my mother's favourite songs, which is meaningful to me, but I also think it's a lovely, soothing song with surprisingly touching lyrics in its own right. Judith Durham is one of my favourite singers ever, and I also think the other band members deserve a lot of credit for their harmonies.

The song is also apparently used quite often at the end of big events in Australia. I definitely remember it being sung during the closing ceremony of the 2000 Paralympics, and it would have been performed at the Olympics closing ceremony if Judith Durham hadn't broken her hip shortly beforehand.

The Seekers always used to use it as the closing song of their concerts too. Here's footage of them performing it in 2013, with all members of the group over the age of 70.

 

[GoGo Yubari]

The Sonics fucking rule. They broke up for like 40 years and then got back together in the late '00s and it was like they never left. Here's them playing "Psycho" at a local record store here in Seattle in 2015, fifty years after the song's release:

 

[Liam]

181.      

‘I’ve Been Loving You For Too Long (To Stop Now)’, Otis Redding (1965)

After Sam Cooke has been shot to death by a motel keeper, Redding took a step away from the bawling style that he had used for most of the early 60s and added a little bit of Cooke’s elegance in a play for the mainstream. It is the earnestness of the vocals here from Redding that mostly stand out, building up, slowing down, reaching a peak of release. Sadly (and not something I was aware of), Redding died in 1967, thus not really having particularly long to enjoy his burst into the public conscious.

182.      

‘Stop! In The Name Of Love’, The Supremes (1965)

The Supremes had already had three number one by this point, but this was to go on and be the one they are most associated with. It isn’t anything much more than some of the other girl group stuff that has been on the list up until this point, but there was a polish about The Supremes that made it hard not to see why they were heralded in such a manner. Take the version I’ve used – every shimmy and hand gesture beautifully complements a song that is undeniably catchy, whilst the aesthetic appeal of the trio was unarguable. The book talks about them entering the realms of groups who were able to bridge the black/white divide and the package they offered highlights why.

183.      

‘Subterranean Homesick Blues’, Bob Dylan (1965)

Influenced by: Too Much Monkey Business • Chuck Berry (1956)   

Influence on: We Didn’t Start the Fire • Billy Joel (1989)  

Covered by: Harry Nilsson (1974) • Red Hot Chili Peppers (1987) • Mountain (2007)

One of the most ripped off videos ever (I saw ‘it’ first in INXS ‘Mediate’ off of my Dad’s ‘Kick’ VHS), Dylan gleefully messed around with the concept of ‘Too Much Monkey Business’ by Chuck Berry , threw in some lyrics from other acts he enjoyed and created this beautiful mess. It is a song I genuinely enjoy, though the importance of ‘Bringing It All Back Home’, the album it comes from, is something I can’t really process due to the distance of time. The suggestion made is that it was seismic, somewhat like the Sex Pistols in the following decade. Whether that is true or not, it does leave me with one thought: maybe I really should go back and check out more Dylan.

[Liam]

184.      

‘The Sounds of Silence’, Simon and Garfunkel (1965)

Influenced by: Masters of War • Bob Dylan (1963)   

Influence on: Catch the Wind • Donovan (1965)   

Covered by: The Bachelors (1966) • Bud Shank (1966) • The Ventures (1970) • Edward Woodward (1970) • James Last (1974) • Nevermore (2000) • Shaw-Blades (2007)

Written in the aftermath of John F. Kennedy’s assassination, the song had an interesting gestation period. Originally released with just a guitar as backing in 1964, the duo broke up due to general lack of interest in their work, or so it seemed. Tom Wilson, a producer, then overdubbed electric guitar, bass and drums without the duo’s permission, yet it turned it into the song that we all enjoy (or at least I do). There is something unsettling about the whole song, from lyrics to harmonies, and it has been used to great effect in a multitude of different films and television shows. A personal favourite from the list so far.

185.      

‘My Generation’, The Who (1965)

‘I hope I die before I get old’ is a lyric that pretty much encapsulated the disaffection of the youth at this time, whilst also acting a microcosm for the devil may care attitude espoused by many a rock star. Though the drums, guitars and bass all add up to create a wonderful cacophony of noise, at the core this is a pop song (as mentioned in the book) and it is the hookiness of the vocals that sends this song into orbit. The co-manager told Roger Daltrey to stutter on the line ‘Why don’t you all f-fade away?’, a hint at a potentially stronger phrase that might have been uttered in this chaotic three minutes. Simple things make a big impact.

186.      

‘Unchained Melody’, The Righteous Brothers (1965)

One of my ex-stepmum’s favourite films was ‘Ghost’, thus this song was imprinted on my memory from a very young age. What is staggering is the number of times and the number of different people who released this song before this version, with 1955 seeing six different interpretations alone (if my maths is correct). This is naturally the most popular version of the tune with Bobby Hatfield’s voice in particular given a chance to shine (he of the higher notes compared to Bill Medley who sung the lower stuff, though Medley also produced the song even though a credit was given to Phil Spector – a convoluted set up indeed). Apparently Spector was angry that the A side of this, a song called ‘Hung On You’, didn’t get more airtime, but it probably isn’t hard to hear why that was the case as the soaring vocals work their dizzying way to the end of this song.

[MalaCloudy Black]

 I did not realize The Sound of Silence is from 1965. Wow. 

[Liam]

187.      

‘Et moi et moi et moi’, Jacques Dutronc (1966)

Apparently an example of a song from the French Yé-yé scene, it was a playful mix of the guitar sounds of bands like the Kinks with Gallic sarcasm. This is definitely the French song that has sounded the ‘coolest’ as much as that actually matters, with Dutronc’s playful vocal delivery effective even without knowledge of the lyrics. The bounciness of the whole tune also makes it something that transcends the need to know the words – it is hard not to nod along or tap your feet to the jangly guitar.

188.      

‘Stay With Me’, Lorraine Ellison (1966)

This is one powerful tune and Ellison’s voice is ridiculously good for it. Filling a gap in a recording schedule due to an illness to Frank Sinatra of all people, Ellison delivered. She was originally a gospel singer, yet the lyrics of this song (and songs in the lead up to this) had seen her move away from the chaste lyrical content of that style of music. Without that, we wouldn’t have this. Ellison pours her heart out for a lover who is walking out of the door. Few songs can match this in terms of pure delivery; Ellison is truly believable as the desperate lady who longs for one more chance to make things work.

189.      

‘Al-Atlal’ Oum Kalthoum (1966)

This was definitely a song.

…

…ok, so this is where the music in here does go somewhat beyond my own knowledge, interest, engagement. Impressive and skilful, it just isn’t the type of music I particularly care for. Though that didn’t stop me from enjoying over music from the list thus far, it was a barrier to my enjoyment for this song. It was difficult enough just to find a version of the song, so you’ll have to make do with the live one from 1967.

[Liam]

190.      

‘You’re Gonna Miss Me’, The Thirteenth Floor Elevators (1966)

A cracking song that I’ve never heard of before. The Thirteenth Floor Elevators (so named as the 13th letter in the alphabet is ‘m’ and makes the link to marijuana) were a psychedelic rock band who used to hand out LSD to fans at gigs. The first thing that struck was the odd ‘womp’ sound that occasionally appeared; I believe that now to be the sound of the jug player. This is another song that feels like it does a lot over a short period of time as it moves from the paceier opening to a surf rock breakdown section that eases things somewhat. Really fun tune and doesn’t outstay its welcome.

191.      

‘Substitute’, The Who (1966)

Influenced by: 19th Nervous Breakdown • The Rolling Stones (1966)   

Influence on: Pretty Vacant • Sex Pistols (1977)   

Covered by: Sex Pistols (1979) • The Glitter Band (1986) • Ramones (1993) • Blur (1994) • Richard Thompson (2006) • Crosbi (2007)

This song took me a moment to remember, though I do feel it is one that I’ve perhaps only heard a few times in my life. Loving the way that Smokey Robinson used the word in ‘Tracks of My Tears’, Pete Townshend named a whole song ‘Substitute’ and it is a fine slice of rock. The prominence of the acoustic guitar and the loudness of the bass in parts adds to a hook-laden set of lyrics, though ‘I look all white but my dad was black’ was cut from the US version for being deemed too controversial. By no means a world beating song, it is an enjoyable addition to the Who’s repertoire at this time and a song that went on to be a live staple.

192.      

‘Eight Miles High’, The Byrds (1966)

Influenced by: India • John Coltrane (1963)  

Influence on: Raga rock   

Covered by: Golden Earring (1969) • Roxy Music (1980) Hüsker Dü (1984) • Ride (1990) • Robyn Hitchcock and The Egyptians (1996) • Dave Cloud (1999) • Chris Hillman (2005) • The Postmarks (2008)

 A song that aimed to cover the experiences on an underwhelming tour of the UK (as well as the obvious drug references), the song was banned in the US. The Byrds were a favourite band of the Beatles and the blissed out pop-rock does sound – at points – like the Fab Four put through an American blender. The plucky guitar solos are great, whilst the airy vocal delivery just adds to the drug-fuelled vibe. A very worthwhile listen.