gold | saves the day | stay what you are | 2001 | link
note: if hot fuss, by the killers, was released primarily on vinyl or cassette tape and therefore had two discrete sides, then side A (ending after “All These Things That I’ve Done”) might be the best side of all time. however, this is not the case, and the remainder (side B) is, as they say, “weak sauce.”
[or a slightly audited and seasonally adjusted list of heavily played (iPod) songs] in some particular order
25| beyonce | halo 24| lady gaga | paparazzi 23| straylight run | your name here (sunrise highway) 22| ratatat | seventeen years 21| matisyahu | i will be light 20| kelly clarkson | already gone 19| takagi masakatsu | j.f.p. 18| mum | we have a map of the piano 17| sigur ros | all alright 16| bob marley | three little birds 15| typical cats | take a number 14| mgmt | time to pretend 13| the specials | a message to you rudy 12| bedouin soundclash | 12:59 lullaby 11| the jackson five | i want you back 10| miley cyrus | party in the usa 09| souls of mischief | step to my girl 08| john mayer | slow dancing in a burning room 07| kings of leon | use somebody 06| black eyed peas | i gotta feeling
05| jay-z | empire state of mind 04| matthew good band | apparitions 03| our lady peace | paper moon 02| saves the day | my sweet fracture 01| third eye blind | water landing
down beneath broadway and one-seventy-fifth
there exists a man who only knows one riff,
and he go, “whoa oh oh”
“whoa oh oh”
bouncin’ down the a-train to that song from before,
you see, johnny told me bout it, but now i can can be sure
that he go, “whoa oh oh”
and it’s a symphony
that writes itself:
these sweet street symphonies -
here’s to your health.
(with some help from the soulmen)
now i’m sitting on a stool at the lolita bar
and nabokov was my boy but words can take you so far
be it mirth and be it merry: dance through this city that’s yours
scarred hearts and flasks in jacket pockets warm up
to the one-two-three-four:
whoa oh oh
and it’s a symphony
that writes itself. . .
and yeah you never can tell baby
or ever ask why.
sometimes it’s sitting on a beach
reading the bukowski guy;
sometimes it’s rambling on-and-on-and
-on without end ’cause-
it’s all about love and
starting again
