Musing on an impossible, and enjoyable, question
Not long ago, I posed a question to readers: What is the Greatest Pop Song Ever Sung? It had come up, for reasons I could explain. In fact, I do, in Part I of this series. I realize the question is sort of a silly one: How can there be a single greatest pop song? But it’s not un-fun, or uninteresting, is it?
Hope you enjoy Part II (our concluding one).
‐A reader from Garrison, N.Y., writes,
My favorites are not recent — and I didn’t hear them when they were released. (I was born in the mid 1950s.) For me, it’s between “After You’ve Gone,” as sung by Bessie Smith (1927), and “They Can’t Take That Away from Me,” as introduced by Fred Astaire in Shall We Dance? (1937).
Two of the greatest singers. To choose one, I’d have to go for Bessie and “After You’ve Gone.”
‐A reader writes, “My twelve-year-old daughter says ‘Sounds of Silence.’”
‐From Woodstock, Ill., one vote for “I Only Want to Be with You,” sung by Dusty Springfield.
‐“Mr. Nordlinger, I would suggest the Flamingos’ 1959 treatment of ‘I Only Have Eyes for You.’”
Ah. Nice. Smoove.
‐One vote for “In God’s Country,” U2. (This band is extremely popular among our readers.)
‐A reader writes,
Obviously, the best pop song would come from the best pop artists, and you would be hard-pressed to say the Beatles didn’t define the genre. Therefore, the greatest pop song would be “Love Me Do.” It has all the elements of an archetypal pop song: upbeat, fast rhythms; simple lyrics; a catchy tune; a positive, romantic (and Romantic) message; and, behind it all, some genuine musical skill from a great band.
‐My mother says, “‘The Girl from Ipanema.’” (I had no idea.)
‐A different lady writes,
You know you’re just begging to get rick-rolled, right? That aside, I’ll throw in a few nominations! How about “Mr. Roboto,” “Closing Time,” and “Superman (It’s Not Easy)”?
I had no idea what “rick-rolled” meant. Googled it, and found this. Still not quite sure. Anyway …
‐“In my opinion — and that is what you’re asking for — the greatest pop song ever is ‘Lola,’ sung by the Kinks. It has it all: humor, romance, and a great tune.”
‐“I’ll give you my top three time-tested favorites: ‘Listen to Your Heart,’ by Roxette; ‘Learn to Be Still,’ by the Eagles; and ‘For Whom the Bell Tolls,’ by the Bee Gees.”
‐This reader writes an interesting note:
Not my favorite pop song of all time — “Turn! Turn! Turn!” sung by the Byrds is — but this one gives me goosebumps every time I hear it: “Unchained Melody,” performed by the Righteous Brothers.
‐A reader says,
Probably not the greatest — criteria, please! — but two pop songs that speak to and about me are “Against the Wind” and “Brown-eyed Girl.” I always have to stop and listen when I hear them.
That is a beautiful criterion: “I always have to stop and listen when I hear them.”
‐A reader in Phoenix writes,
Mr. Nordlinger,
My guilty pleasure, and nomination for Greatest Pop Song, is “Dancing Queen,” by ABBA.
Pure pop goodness, from the opening piano glissando to the repeating chorus at the end. Soaring harmonies; chords that have just the right progression; tone that goes from wistful and plaintive to happy resolution; all packaged just right.
Now, what can I nominate Iron Maiden for?
Ha. (Makes me think of Bill ’n’ Ted.)
‐A reader says, “‘Stardust’? Nat King Cole version.” He adds three honorable mentions, two of which we have named already, and the other of which is “Since I Don’t Have You,” in the cover by the Skyliners.
‐You will enjoy this letter from a cultivated man in Half Moon Bay, Calif. (a beautiful place-name, right?):
Here’s my vote for Greatest Pop Song Ever. If I were locked in a prison cell and could listen to only one song, this would be it: “La Mer,” as performed by its creator, Charles Trenet. I will acknowledge that I don’t understand a word of it. As much as I like Bobby Darin’s version — “Beyond the Sea” — Trenet’s is, to use a Silicon Valley expression, an order of magnitude better.
If I’m allowed two others, then I would go for: “Just My Imagination,” by the Temptations. I would be shocked if this weren’t one of your favorites, too. Then, “All or Nothing at All,” as performed by Frank Sinatra, specifically in his 1939 recording. It seems that the greatest pop singer ever should be associated with the greatest pop song ever, and I think this is it.
One bonus of this song for me is the memory I have of my father listening to it once and then looking at my mother with the most amorous grin on his face.
I can’t wait to read the results of your survey. This is important stuff.
‐“Ella Fitzgerald singing the Gershwins’ ‘Someone to Watch over Me’” — here.
‐A lady writes,
Earth, Wind & Fire: “September”
Runner-up:
The Four Seasons: “December 1963 (Oh, What a Night)”
May I tell a story? First, I need to tell another story — about Bill Buckley. Once, someone accused him of having “lousy syntax.” WFB responded, “If you had my syntax, you’d be rich.”
Many years ago, I was with a group of people, and “September” came on. A few of them denigrated the song — saying how stupid it was. I thought, “If you had written this song, you’d be rich. And deserve to be.”
‐“If you’re defining ‘pop song’ broadly, then Molly Hatchet’s ‘Flirtin’ with Disaster.’ It also sums up our political situation.”
‐A lady from Papillion, Neb. — what a beautiful name! — writes,
It was hard to narrow it down, but I’ve decided on “I Want to Hold Your Hand,” by the Beatles. It’s a tricky song to sing. The Beatles made it look easy. Genius right from the start.
‐“Tough call,” says a reader. “‘For Your Precious Love,’ by Jerry Butler, or ‘Just One Look,’ by Doris Troy.”
‐Another reader says,
Jay,
I’m old, and no poll is likely to register my two nominees. But I’ll pass them along to you anyway.
1. “The Shelter of Your Arms,” sung by Sammy Davis Jr. (It very subtly refers back to Bach.) [What doesn’t?!]
2. “My Way” — made world-famous by Sinatra.
‐This letter is from Michael Lewis, professor of art history at Williams College:
Dear Jay,
I am taking up your invitation to nominate the best pop song. And I will do it, just like Captain Queeg in The Caine Mutiny, with a rigorous process of “geometric logic.”
A true pop song must come from the era of collective popular music, before popular music splintered into “markets,” the ramified music scene we have had since the 1970s. The last era of genuine pop songs was that great era of productive cross-fertilization between English and American music, the 1960s. Out of this era comes my nomination, “Downtown,” composed by Tony Hatch and sung by Petula Clark.
“Downtown” does what any great work of art does: It takes an experience that is personal and particular and makes it so vivid it becomes universal. In this case, the particular experience was the first visit by Hatch to Times Square, in September 1964. He was caught up in the sensory synesthesia of noise, lights, traffic, and excitement, which gave him the melody and technically questionable title. (Being an Englishman, Hatch was shaky on Manhattan geography.) He was still writing the lyrics on October 16, when Petula Clark recorded the song. The freshness of Hatch’s encounter had not had time to fade.
This is why the song is endearingly and permanently date-stamped to 1964. The line that calls us to “listen to the rhythm of the gentle bossa nova” is an allusion to “The Girl from Ipanema,” which was the surprise hit of that July and August, and was just fading from the charts when Hatch arrived.
The lyrics are by no means sophisticated. There is no witty word play or arch commentary in the manner of Cole Porter or Lorenz Hart. The imagery is utterly conventional (“music of the traffic,” “the neon signs are pretty,” etc.). Nor is the music complex. It begins on the tonic and never strays far from it; the first seven notes (“When you’re alone and life is …”) are all B flat. The main event in the melody is the simple phrase “Downtown,” which descends a fourth in the verse and then a minor third in the chorus. It rises without modulation a half step from E flat to E natural for the final verse, a startlingly abrupt transition.
But in the miracle of songwriting, conventional observation and simple melody form an indissoluble whole. The syncopation builds inexorably through the three verses, to break through joyously in the chorus. And even the clichés of the lyrics resonate meaningfully with the rhythm, a kind of abstract description of the pulse of the city (“the LIGHTS are MUCH BRIGHT-er there”).
A footnote: The guitar in the song is played by Jimmy Page, future lead guitarist for Led Zeppelin, one of those enormously popular rock groups that would lead to the end of popular music as a collective genre.
Anyway, such is my case. I first heard “Downtown” when I was in second grade, and without knowing what it meant to “know some little place where they never close,” I felt the feeling that the song wanted me to feel. Fifty years later, I still do. The song has not dated, and we are forever in the thrilling fall of 1964, seeing Times Square as if for the first time, quivering electrically around us.
I humbly submit it as the best pop song ever.
To go “Downtown,” go here.
‐A reader from Arlington, Va., writes,
There are hundreds of candidates, but I will say “I Second That Emotion,” by Smokey Robinson, which combines a melody that the ordinary Joe can sing (albeit an octave or two or three lower than Smokey), an admirable lyric expressing an admirable sentiment, and an origin near where you originally hail from.
Ha. Thanks. (I’m from Ann Arbor, about 45 minutes from Detroit, and Motown.)
‐“One vote for ‘Take on Me,’ by A-ha, please.” You got it.
‐A reader nominates “Bridge over Troubled Water,” which we’ve already heard from — and then gives an honorable mention to “Summer Wine,” written by Lee Hazlewood, and sung by him and Nancy Sinatra.
An aside: Isn’t the spelling of that name, Hazlewood, surprising? One would expect “Hazelwood.”
‐Another reader says, “‘I Only Have Eyes for You,’ in the Art Garfunkel cover. I can’t explain it objectively. It got into my head 25 years ago and I still find myself trying to sing it in the car.”
‐A reader from Rochester provides a wonderful list of 20. He counts them down, 20 to 1. After he has named No. 2 (“Just a Dream,” performed by Nelly), he writes,
My nominee at the top is a tune that nails it on all aspects of what makes a great pop record: (a) it’s a recording of a great song, with a memorable melody and hook, poetic and evocative lyrics, and an interesting harmonic structure; (b) it has a fine vocal performance with visceral impact; (c) it has an inventive and sophisticated arrangement; and (d) it has high recording and production values.
That song is “After the Love Has Gone,” a hit for Earth, Wind & Fire.
‐A regular and beloved reader begins by rebuking me: “Defining pop music ‘broadly’ is not a conservative value.” Then he says, “And nothing says ‘pop’ like ‘Sugar, Sugar,’ sung by the Archies.”
‐Well, that’s a wrap, y’all. Thanks so much for playing. Obviously, hundreds of songs went unnamed. There are not enough pixels in cyberspace. I think of the Jackson 5: “I Want You Back” and “ABC.” Well-nigh unsurpassable. I think of “Desperado.” I think of “Oh, Pretty Woman.” And of “Do Wah Diddy Diddy.” And of …
See you later.