Previously, we brought you the “100 Best Alternative Songs of the 1980s”, a five-part series that attracted thousands of readers worldwide and explored the best alternative music the 1980s had to offer. Now, we move forward in time and examine what many consider the “golden age” of alternative rock, with the “100 Greatest Alternative Singles of the 1990s”.
The understanding of “alternative” was different in the 1990s. The term became more widely used, replacing such 1980s descriptions as college rock, indie pop, post-modern, and underground. It also exploded in popularity — from massive radio stations like WHFS in Washington, DC, and KROQ in Los Angeles to the airwaves of MTV, alternative music dominated the rock and roll landscape.
Festivals like Lollapalooza and Lilith Fair cropped up, and alternative rock bands sold millions of albums and headlined arenas, often without benefiting a Top 40 crossover hit. Top 40 had dwindled almost solely to R&B, hip-hop, diva ballads, and dance-pop. There was very little room for rock and roll, and suddenly, bands that would have been considered mainstream rock or even Top 40 in prior years were lumped in under the amorphous “alternative” label.
A word about labels: obviously, “alternative” is a label with an enormous umbrella. Other sub-genres like “grunge” and “Britpop” became a crutch for lazy writers who couldn’t think of anything else to say about a song or an artist. They were phony movements invented by the press to describe music that was superficially similar. Sometimes, it can’t be helped, but with very few exceptions, I’ve avoided using these labels when possible, as they’re arbitrary, often misused, and don’t really say anything about the song itself.
In compiling this list, the first question one asks is simple: what is “alternative”? It’s not a question with an easy answer. In many ways, it’s in the ear of the beholder. One person’s “alternative” is another fan’s “mainstream rock” or “pop” — we are operating in shades of grey. “Outside the mainstream” isn’t really enough of a definition. After all, plenty of artists who reside outside the limited universe of Top 40 radio wouldn’t be considered alternative: folk, metal, country, reggae, bluegrass, orchestral, jazz, blues, some hip-hop, and others. “Alternative” requires a certain edge, a particularly adventurous vibe, and a particular sensibility. It’s hard to pinpoint it exactly, but you know it when you hear it.
Consider a few examples. The Wallflowers had six singles hit both the Billboard Modern Rock Chart and the Billboard Mainstream Rock Chart — but only two of the six charted higher on Modern Rock than the Mainstream chart. Their rootsy style sounds more in the vein of the Band than anything alternative, yet they were lumped into that category.
For our purposes here, we’ve weeded out artists like the Wallflowers who may have been considered “alternative” at the time of their popularity. Still, with the benefit of hindsight and looking at an artist’s overall career arc, we know now they are not. From two decades of reflection, we should be able to learn what is truly alternative or not as we look beyond temporary labels and view an artist’s musical arc and career thread in a larger context, including what was acceptable to Top 40 radio. It’s all about the big picture.
Other artists that received heavy airplay on alternative radio in the 1990s but in retrospect seem more like mainstream rock or pop include Sheryl Crow, Third Eye Blind, Sarah McLachlan, Gin Blossoms, Shawn Colvin, Toad the Wet Sprocket, Paula Cole, Joan Osborne, Matthew Sweet, Sophie B. Hawkins, Semisonic, Collective Soul, and many others. There is no question that all of these artists recorded great songs and may have once been considered alternative, but with the passage of time, we can see things more clearly. Thus, they are not included here.
Others, like Massive Attack, the Prodigy, the Shamen, Chemical Brothers, Underworld, DJ Shadow, Sunscreem, and Tricky, fit more comfortably in the realm of electronica. Of course, many of these artists blur the lines of multiple genres, and there are no hard and fast rules to determine which are “alternative” or not. Sometimes, it’s simply a judgment call.
The Billboard Modern Rock Chart is a helpful guide but not a definitive reference. Many artists who are clearly not alternative have appeared on the chart since it debuted in September 1988, including the Rolling Stones (twice), Seal, Lenny Kravitz, Ace of Base, Tom Petty, Enya, Rickie Lee Jones, John Hiatt, Deee-Lite, Paul Simon, Chris Isaak, Dire Straits (twice), Robbie Robertson, Terence Trent D’Arby, Shaggy, and the Rembrandts for their much-reviled theme from Friends, “I’ll Be There For You”.
Even Hootie & The Blowfish and Right Said Fred’s “I’m Too Sexy” made the Modern Rock chart. The chart is just one piece of information to consider and certainly not the determining factor as to whether or not a song makes the list or where it should be ranked. One certainty: the most successful song does not always correlate to being the “greatest” song. Often, it does not.
So, how were the songs selected? Initially, there was a list of several hundred songs that were potential candidates. Each was seriously considered. As with the 1980s list, only one song per artist is selected. The list continued to grow along with the wide net that was cast for the extensive research behind this project. Eventually, the winnowing began, and — in a very painful exercise that involved cutting some genuinely amazing songs — the final 100 were compiled.
Artistic value is the most critical factor in selecting a song, and cultural significance and influence are also considered. This list is reserved for songs that were released as some form of single, whether commercial or promotional.
Some artists released critically hailed albums that are unquestionably essential recordings of the 1990s but didn’t have a standout single that demands inclusion, or in some cases had no singles at all — examples include Uncle Tupelo’s No Depression, Slint’s Spiderland, Talk Talk’s Laughing Stock, Magnetic Fields’ 69 Love Songs, Dismemberment Plan’s Emergency & I, Spiritualized Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space and Belle and Sebastian’s If You’re Feeling Sinister among many others. Their exclusion here should not lead one to infer that these aren’t considered essential albums of the 1990s, but this is a singles list. An albums list might have a very different roster of artists.
It’s a given that many great songs are not included. 100 is an unforgiving number. Imagine, in a decade with as many killer alternative tracks as the 1990s, selecting on average only ten singles per year; 1995 alone could easily yield a list of 100 classic alternative tracks. Considering the variables involved in deciding what is in fact “alternative”, which songs should be included by a particular artist, and then determining how to rank them, there are a lot of decisions to be made.
I worked very hard to be as objective as possible in an exercise that is subjective by its very nature. Of course, this isn’t intended to be a catch-all of the tremendous alternative singles of the 1990s. That would require a much more extensive list. This is just the very tip of a massive and wonderful iceberg.
Ultimately, this piece is one snapshot of a remarkable decade and an homage to the great music that emerged from this era. Everyone else who lived through this period of music and loves it might have a different vision of it. Even if you disagree with the list, surely we can, at minimum, celebrate this phenomenal time in alternative music and these 100 genuinely fantastic songs.
Special thanks to Gina Gerard for her invaluable feedback, editorial and moral support, and to Andrew Tinker, the amazing copy-editing machine, for his tireless assistance. Also, many thanks to Michael English, Malcolm Lee, Christopher McKay, and Daniel Miron for editorial feedback.
100. 311 – “Down” (1995)
311 released their self-titled third album during the summer of 1995, but it really blasted off the following year, thanks largely to its audacious second single, “Down”. It’s a slice of hyper-kinetic rock, the restless groove of youth in the form of three potent minutes of radioactive spunk. 311 blends genres seamlessly, incorporating elements of rock, hip-hop, metal, and even reggae into their sound. They do it so naturally it sounds effortless. “Down” is meant as a ‘thank you’ to 311’s fans who helped carry the band from small-town midwestern obscurity to multi-platinum success.
“Down” is built on hot-wired guitar, skittery drumwork, turntable scratches that zip around like ninja knives, and a brash dancehall-inspired vocal by Nick Hexum. The band recorded the song live in the studio and delivered a knockout performance bristling with swagger and energy. 311 is the type of skater-rock band critics love to hate, but sometimes folks forget what rock and roll has always been about: attitude. 311 delivers plenty of that, with impressive musical chops to back it up.
“Down” spent four weeks at #1 on the Billboard Modern Rock Chart during the fall of 1996, well over a year after the album’s release. Along with the two other singles “All Mixed Up” and “Don’t Stay Home”, “Down” helped 311 move over three million units — the band’s biggest selling album by far.
99. Heather Nova – “Walk This World” (1994)
The lead single from Bermuda-born singer/songwriter Heather Nova’s second album Oyster is “Walk This World”, a dramatic acoustic rocker bleeding with desire. It opens with a quick guitar snarl before launching into a descending bass pattern that forms the backbone of the verses, sometimes anchored with a subtle cello (which I was hearing as a baritone sax all these years).
Nova’s breathy vocals intensify the sense of desperation in her search for meaning and connection — for someone to help navigate life’s unpredictable maze of travails. It’s not easy to trust, as she’s obviously been scarred by past experience and has built up a wall: “I’m sucked in by the wonder / and i’m fucked up by the lies / and I dig a hole to climb in / and I build some wings to fly”. She’s taking a chance, laying herself bare, willing to try again — perhaps some of the desperation comes with the thought that she might not get another chance.
Nova weaves a deft melody during the chorus, her multi-tracked vocals simmering with urgency as she sings, “I’m not touched, but I’m aching to be”. The song doesn’t have a bridge per se, just a dreamy instrumental interlude with a double-tracked electric guitar that bends subtly, as if underwater. The atmosphere is turbulent and uncertain as Nova grapples with an unrequited need.
Although Heather Nova has continued to release one solid album after another, “Walk This World” was her only substantial hit (so far) — it reached #13 on the Billboard Modern Rock Chart.
98. Butthole Surfers – “Pepper” (1996)
Veteran fringe-rockers Butthole Surfers scored a surprise hit with “Pepper”, an oddity in the band’s primarily experimental hardcore catalog. It’s not difficult to understand why “Pepper” connected with a large audience — it’s a wonderfully surreal slow-motion acid trip that blurs the lines between “Strawberry Fields Forever” and Paul’s Boutique. Gibby Haynes deadpans the spoken-word lyrics during the verses, gusting wind audible in the background, and then jolts us back to attention during the hard-rock chorus. “Pepper’s” sonic universe includes backward guitar, tremolo effects during the chorus, weird vocalisms and other bits of inventive reality-twisting.
The lyrics deal with random chance, as Haynes relates an oddball cast of characters and their sometimes deadly foibles (inspired by his youthful memories in the Texas punk-rock scene): “Another Mikey took a knife while arguing in traffic / Flipper died a natural death he caught a nasty virus / then there was the ever-present football player rapist / they were all in love with dying, they were doin’ it in Texas.”
“Pepper” was a breakthrough single from the band’s Electriclarryland album, spending three weeks at #1 on the Billboard Modern Rock Chart during the summer of ’96. Self-destruction and record company troubles prevented the band from building on the song’s momentum, and “Pepper” remains a solitary bubble that somehow floated to the surface of a backwoods Texas swamp and popped onto the airwaves.
97. Morphine – “Cure For Pain” (1993)
Nobody sounded quite like Morphine. The Boston-based band, led by singer and bassist Marc Sandman, followed their own rules about what rock and roll should be. They perfected a sound in which electric guitar is not the driving factor. Sandman was famous for his oddly-tuned two-string bass guitar, which he often played with a slide. Dana Colley’s deep and resonant sax handled the main instrumental hooks and solos. Two drummers played for the band at various times: Billy Conway and Jerome Deupree. The band’s unusual bottom-heavy sound thrilled critics but never lifted them beyond cult status in the US, although they enjoyed some commercial success in Europe.
The woozy “Cure for Pain” is the band’s second album title track. The song is relaxed enough to have popped a few Xanax, but the necessity for self-medicating to numb whatever pain Sandman is experiencing is laid out starkly. Even in this darkness Sandman never loses his acerbic sense of humor: “I propose a toast to my self-control / you see it crawling helpless on the floor”. The wry couplet makes clear that the prospect of quitting drugs is painful enough to justify continuing on his destructive path, but he understands it is what it is.
Sadly, Morphine would cease to exist in 1999 when Sandman died suddenly of a heart attack at age 46 while on stage at a concert in Italy. Morphine left behind a tremendous musical legacy, with “Cure for Pain” a good first dose for the uninitiated.
96. Soul Asylum – “Somebody to Shove” (1992)
“Somebody to Shove” is a searing garage-rocker from Minneapolis-based Soul Asylum’s sixth album Grave Dancer’s Union, by far their most successful release. Dave Pirner’s restless vocals ride along with the churning guitar riff before finally ripping free during the raucous chorus. The performance is tight — drummer Grant Young (or more likely Sterling Campbell, who producer Michael Beinhorn brought in because he was dissatisfied with Young’s performances) amps up the energy and provides a rock-solid foundation.
Pirner’s lyrics jive with the song’s fidgety tone as he sits in despondent boredom, yearning for someone to stir him into some kind of action that will tear through his sullen malaise. Long days that fade endlessly into one another with nothing ever happening, a life spent watching the clock turn day after day after day — Pirner perfectly captures the frantic need to escape the incessant tedium.
“Somebody to Shove” rocks and grooves with manic abandon, a runaway train of pressure that finally bursts into a fit of frustration. His desperation heats to a boil as the song hits its climax: “And I’m waiting by the phone / Waiting for you to call me and tell me I’m not alone / Yes, I’m waiting by the phone / I’m waitin’ for you to call me, call me / And tell me I’m / Tell me I’m not alone!” It’s hard not to be struck by the strong suspicion that the call ain’t ever gonna come.
The first of four major hits from Grave Dancer’s Union (along with “Black Gold”, “Without a Trace”, and “Runaway Train”), “Somebody to Shove” hit #1 on the Billboard Modern Rock Chart in December 1992. Soul Asylum’s killer performance of the song on MTV Unplugged remains one of the best moments in that series’ history.
95. The Jesus and Mary Chain – “Reverence” (1993)
The Jesus and Mary Chain’s fourth album Honey’s Dead was so named because the Scottish duo wanted to serve notice they had expanded beyond the boundaries of their breakthrough single “Just Like Honey” from their landmark 1985 debut Psychocandy. Ironically, there are strong echoes of that classic song in the distorted guitar and electro-rock of “Reverence”, the edgy and provocative first single which became an improbable Top 10 hit in the UK.
With its repeated calls of “I want to die just like Jesus Christ”, “Reverence” incorporates a gritty industrial vibe, heavy electronic beats, and dense snarls of reverbed guitar. Jim Reid’s tense vocals are deep in the mix, almost buried by the abrasive sonic machinery as if he’s coated in grime from crawling on a factory floor. The song is a call to go down in a blaze of glory, to be mythologized in death like Jesus Christ and JFK. Reid equates those two fabled figures with rock stars whose deaths bring near deification and reverence that becomes, in some cases, bigger and more substantial than the music itself.
94. Rancid – “Time Bomb” (1995)
Amped with fitful energy, the ska/rock alloy “Time Bomb” was the second single from Rancid’s best album, …And Out Come the Wolves. Rancid rose from the ashes of Operation Ivy, an influential ska band that never broke through to a broad audience but helped shape the thriving 1990s ska scene with bands like Pietasters, Mighty Mighty Bosstones, Reel Big Fish, and others.
“Time Bomb” is a compact little pill that you swallow and suddenly feel like bouncing around like a haywire kangaroo. The song describes a guy who is unpredictable in all the worst ways, waiting to explode as he slides in and out of a life of danger and crime. Tim Armstrong’s husky vocals are so slurred sometimes that you can barely make them out without a lyric sheet, but it only adds to the song’s bedraggled realness. It’s clear these guys would know a time bomb when they see one.
Everything on “Time Bomb” moves with supercharged velocity. The infectious rhythm is bolstered by rolling whirls of organ, and the simple guitar solo cuts through the bedlam briefly before we dive quickly back into the implacable groove. Clocking in at only 2:24, “Time Bomb” is a tight musical punch and one catchy enough to pogo around in your brain for days. It hit #8 on the Billboard Modern Rock Chart, Rancid’s highest-ever placement on that survey, and the track sounds as fresh and alive as the day it was baked.
93. Jars of Clay – “Flood” (1995)
Spiritual pain and doubt can result in deeply compelling art, whether through music or another medium — even if one doesn’t subscribe to the beliefs being espoused. Religion can consume one’s heart, mind, and soul. If you believe down to your bones that you are an inherently flawed sinner in need of a jealous God’s forbearance, you might indeed consider yourself “one with the mud” as Jars of Clay singer/songwriter Dan Haseltine does on the band’s epic single “Flood”. The song is clearly wrenched from deepest despair: “Downpour on my soul / splashing in the ocean, I’m losing control / dark sky all around / I can’t feel my feet touching the ground.”
Taken from the Tennessee-based contemporary Christian band’s self-titled debut, “Flood” became an unlikely hit on alternative radio. The song is a torrent of the type of guilt upon which religions flourish. The chorus, rich with vocal harmonies, hangs on a single note — ratcheting up the tension while we await relief that never comes.
“Flood” finds Haseltine on his knees, begging for redemption, beseeching his God to save him from “drowning again”. It’s one of two tracks (along with superb “Liquid”) from the band’s debut masterfully produced by the great Adrian Belew. From the subtle effects on Haseltine’s vocal to the glistening string section in the song’s middle to the hard-driving acoustic guitar riffs which ring like heavy sheets of black rain on the pavement, “Flood” is musically evocative of the emotional tumult Haseltine expresses in the lyrics.
Jars of Clay would go on to score numerous hits on Christian radio while often straddling the line between secular and spiritual, but “Flood” was their only substantial crossover success — it reached #12 on the Billboard Modern Rock Chart.
92. Indigo Girls – “Galileo” (1997)
We go from beseeching an all-knowing spirit to entreating a symbol of science and rational thought who was persecuted for teaching beliefs that contradicted religious dictates but has since been vindicated by history. The beautifully lush “Galileo” was the second single from Indigo Girls’ fourth album, Rites of Passage, and has become one of the highly influential duo’s signature tunes. Emily Saliers wrote the song and sings with graceful poignancy, while partner Amy Ray provides exquisite harmonies (also joined by rock legend David Crosby).
Produced by Peter Collins, a well-traveled rock veteran who was at the helm of many of Canadian rock titans Rush’s greatest works, “Galileo” builds to a stirring climax with a swirl of harmonious vocals over the syncopated rhythm. The bridge glows with pulsing strings, and then a lovely dual acoustic guitar solo leads into the final verse and chorus. The ending is a whirlwind of sound that closes the song with an enchanting flourish.
“Galileo” is a daydream about reincarnation, a query as to when “my soul will get it right”, and a call to the famed astronomer and truth-seeker Galileo for celestial guidance. It’s a fantasy that’s sparked by that all-too-human impulse of imagining a different and better life in the wake of failures and troubles that seem to weigh down our current existence and our innate wonder about the mysteries of the afterlife and where we fit in the universe.
“Galileo” is an expansive song that asks big questions but is performed with intimate sincerity and beauty. It became the iconic duo’s highest-ever chart showing in the US, reaching #10 on the Billboard Modern Rock Chart.
91. Sparklehorse – “Sick of Goodbyes” (1998)
Mark Linkous had a gift for sweet melodies swaddled in dark swirls of melancholy. Good Morning Spider was the second album Linkous released under the Sparklehorse name. It was written and recorded after his near-fatal overdose caused by mixing alcohol with the medication he took to battle his crippling depression, and the album unquestionably bares those scars.
Good Morning Spider radiates otherworldly beauty, fragility, and an undercurrent of despair. “Sick of Goodbyes” is one of its most immediate and compelling tracks. Linkous co-wrote the song with fellow Virginian David Lowery of Cracker, whose comparatively drab recording appeared on their 1993 album Kerosene Hat. Linkous was wise to take it back and get the most out of it. The Sparklehorse version is melodic and engaging with an insistent groove, a chiming wall of sound from the fusion of acoustic and electric guitars, and, weaving through it all, a thick alien drone pulsing from an old analog synth.
The lyrics are poetic but relentlessly bleak: “The night comes crawling in on all fours / sucking up my dreams through the floor,” Linkous sings at one point. There’s an almost wry resignation to the song, no spark of hope that change for the better is in the cards, at least on this “vampire planet”. “Sick of Goodbyes” is wrenching sadness wrapped in a glow of a heartbreaking beauty that you somehow know is temporary.
After years of trying to cope with debilitating depression and addiction, Mark Linkous took his own life in March 2010, another in the seemingly endless string of casualties of depression and addiction that has been such a blight on society in the 1990s and beyond. It’s hard to hear him sing, “I’m so sick of goodbyes, goodbyes,” and not think, “So are we”.