Playing God with Pitchfork's '60's

Well, Pitchfork's list of their favorite songs of the '60's is over, and I have to say it was a blast. I have some arguments with the list, but that's the entire point of lists, really. It's to get people to disagree and argue about stuff that's actually pointless; to be objective about something that can never be anything but subjective.

I actually figured that "God Only Knows" would be the #1 song, but not putting it in writing means I have to give up all credibility. Oh, well. At least I know I was right. It's a great choice, but I would have been just as happy to see "I Want To Hold Your Hand" or "The Times They Are a Changin'" (which wasn't even on the list), not because they're even close to being my favorite Beatles and Dylan songs, but because they're songs that immediately changed the way people thought of music.

But I'm getting off track. Anyone who wants to debate this more or offer their thoughts on Pitchfork's list, I'd love to hear it. The comments are open and operators are standing by. But the real reason for this post is to offer my additions to the list, and to be fair and keep it at 200, I'm forcing myself to find a song on the list that it'll take the place of. All arguments welcome.

And here we go, in no particular order, the thirteen songs that should have been included on the Pitchfork's Greatest Songs of the '60's:

The Rolling Stones, "Let's Spend the Night Together", 1967

Let me tell you what I would go back and tell myself about ten years ago: you may think you've heard this song before, but have you really? If you remember it as one of the Rolling Stones' many hits, a good, catchy song, then you haven't really heard it. Go back and listen not to just how catch it is, how wonderful those backing vocals are, but the dynamics and the passion when Mick begs, "I need you more than ever, let's spend the night together". It's a perfect pop song, and as much of a hidden gem as a hit song from one of the biggest rock groups of all time could be. In my list of top songs of the '60's, this would be my number one, just nudging "This Will Be Our Year" out by a nose.
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Would take the place of: The Rolling Stones, "Sympathy for the Devil", #39. I hate to do it, but one of the Stones songs has to go, and it's this one only because the woo-woos get a little tiring after a while (and they actually sound tired, back in the days before loops).

Charles Mingus, "II B.S.", 1963

I've only ever flirted with jazz, and in spite of a desire to truly understand what's going on with a music that's as thoughtful as it can be emotional, and in spite of enjoying the hell out of it every now and then, very little jazz has ever made me replay a song dozens of times in a row like pop does. This is an exception. Why? Because it's in posession of the greatest bass line of all time. Greatest.
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Would take the place of: John Coltrane, "My Favorite Things", #130. Sorry, but I've just never gotten this song. Maybe it's because I can't divorce it from the image of Julie Andrews singing to some Nazi kids.

Eddie and the Showmen, "Squad Car", 1963

I went through a period in the early '90's of trying to collect surf music, largely through the influence of the Pixies. Like a lot of those genre explorations, I was mostly disappointed, finding that very little of the deeper surf guitar music had the energy and excitement of the songs I already knew. This song was a notable exception. Sure, it's a "Miserlou" rip, but all aping is forgiven with it's frantic energy, not to mention that it's just plain badass.
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Would take the place of: Steve Reich, "It's Gonna Rain", #33. This is probably the selection of the guy on the Pitchfork staff who mostly listens to ambient and sound-collage, but it's more interesting than good, and certainly wouldn't be on my list.

James Brown, "Funky Drummer Pts 1 & 2", 1969

I'm amazed that this didn't make the list. It has every quality that a list like this would want: cool, soul, a different quality than most of the artist's other material, and most importantly, long-lasting musical and cultural significance. The fact that this is the beat that modern hip-hop was built on makes it criminal to leave it off of any list of the '60's, let alone one that's 200 songs long. Wait until Brown counts out 1-2-3-4, and when that beat goes it alone, the history and influence of it will give you chills.

But it's an amazing song besides. The part of James Brown's music that amazes me is that you're listening to musicians who have devoted their life to being the most accomplished musicans they can possibly be, and they're playing the same notes over and over again only because it feels right. The dynamics, the riffs, the cool of this song are touched by almost nothing else.
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Would take the place of: James Brown, "It's a Man's Man's Man's World", #33.

Brasil '66 & Sergio Mendes, "Roda", 1966

There's a reason that so many of us have a hard time with bossa nova. For a lot of us, it sounded just a step removed from muzak; boring music that people put on when they didn't want to make sure they didn't get too excited.

Of course, we were wrong. Now, I still have a pretty hard time with a lot of '60's bossa nova. A lot of is a little too calm and pretty for my tastes. But when it hits the busy rhythms and hand claps and soulful vocals, it can't be beat. That's this song, and the chorus, with its straight-on hand claps over the jittery percussion and the excited vocals, makes this song a must not just for the '60's, but all time.

Plus, the whole freaking band is named after a year in the sixties. How much more sixties could you be?!
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Would take the place of: Neil Young, "Down By The River", #83. Neil Young's music and me very very rarely see eye-to-eye. I happy to have the brilliant "Roda" take the place of this piece of solo wankery.

The Kinks, "Do You Remember Walter?", 1968

Maybe it's a little snobby. Listen, Ray, just because you haven't heard from Walter since school doesn't mean he's fat and boring with an early bedtime. But it's just snobbery in self-defense, as you realize that it's just the reality of his own aging that's made Ray wonder what happened to his good childhood friend, wondering what's become of not just Walter, but himself and everyone he's known: "Yes, Walter was my mate, but Walter my old friend where are you now?" Gorgeous, and it certainly puts Blur in perspective.
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Would take the place of: The Kinks, "Sunny Afternoon", #200. It's a fine song and all, but the Kinks have so much better.

The Kinks, "Days", 1968

It's not clear whether the person that Ray Davies is singing to was lost to a breakup or death or, like Walter, just to the passing of time. But whatever it was, this song is the turning point: getting over the sense of loss and being able to remember the sweet times and that, in spite of what may have happened, it's the fond memories that stay. Imagine it's about a former lover, and you can't help but smile. Imagine it being sung at a funeral and it's devastating.
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Would take the place of: Del Shannon, "Runaway", #67. Another one for the "a fun song to find on the oldies stations, but one of the GREATEST?!" file.

Freddie Scott, "Are You Lonely For Me?", 1966

Anyone with even a passing interest in '60's soul can't be without Rhino's definitive six-disc box set Beg, Scream and Shout: The Big Old Box of '60's Soul. The jewels in there would make a king blush, not the least of which is this song, one of the most tremendous soul burners I've ever heard. The heart-breaking begging in this song can only be matched by Lorainne Ellison's "Stay With Me" (also in the box set, and in Pitchfork's list).
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Would take the place of: Neil Young & Crazy Horse, "Cinnamon Girl", #67. Look, I don't deny his stature in rock music history, and I have a lot of respect for him and the choices he's made, but his music just bores me to tears. Freddie Scott's does not.

The Supremes, "Love Is Like An Itching In My Heart", 1966

The Supremes are absolutely an integral part of any list of the '60's, but I was a little surprised that Pitchfork went for the more tame "You Can't Hurry Love" instead of this slice of Motown at it's most exhuberant, Diana Ross at her most passionate. Not to mention that pefect Motown drum fill at the beginning.
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Would take the place of: The Supremes, "You Can't Hurry Love", #99. I had "Baby Love" getting booted, but I listened to both songs and reconsidered.

Bob Marley and the Wailers, "Simmer Down", 1965

The fans a band takes on can affect the way people look at it, and the fact that Bob Marley became the literal poster figure of experimental pot smokers obscures the fact that he rose from the rest of reggae because he's a great songwriter. This is when his songwriting was more about fun than politics, but the ska sizzle of this song is irresistable.
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Would take the place of: Jimi Hendrix, "All Along The Watchtower", #99. I just *like*Bob Dylan's song, and the number of versions since then have decreased in quality with the years. Maybe—like "Fortunate Son"—I've just seen it over way too much Vietnam War footage, and I expect Tom Brokaw's voice to come in at any moment.

The Eyes, "When The Night Falls", 1966

The Nuggets box sets are a lot more hit-or-miss than Beg Scream And Shout!. After getting through them, it was mostly the songs I'd heard before that had stuck out. But then there's this song that's so cool that it's almost falling apart, but with the boiling menace of the uncontrollable guitar noise. If this song was a person on the street late at night, I would be very afraid.
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Would take the place of: The Barbarians, "Moulty", #180.

The Velvet Underground, "What Goes On", 1969

I can't find many compatriots in this thought, but "What Goes On" is THE Velvet Underground song. It's not just that it's a straight-ahead rocker, but it turns three chords into an epic, and not in the same way that "Sister Ray" does. The organ drones, and the vocals mumble statically, leaving it to the guitar's rhythm—and nothing else—to create the dynamic. It's the only thing that's changing in those last two minutes, but the feel of it is something that could last forever and still sound fresh.
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Would take the place of: The Velvet Underground, "Venus in Furs", #125. It's the coolest of cool sounds, sure, but it gets a little old after a while.

The Byrds, "So You Want To Be a Rock and Roll Star", 1967

Another entry into the "Songs I Knew But Never Knew Were So Great". When I re-heard this song for the first time in a long time last year, I was amazed at its so-'60's nervous energy, the mariachi horns and that amazing bass line. Plus, it may very well be the first song about the cynicism of the still-young pop/rock music biz.
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Would take the place of: The Byrds, "I'll Feel A Whole Lot Better", #131.

I've also left on the songs from the '60's that I'd already uploaded: that amazing France Gall song (which I still listen to about 3-4 times a day), and four cuts from the recent Soul Jazz Tropicalia comp. Enjoy.