The Top 20 songs from London. We have covered Manchester with its Acid House, Indie Rock, and timeless Dance Anthems. Then we went to Liverpool and its elusive songwriters, and tales from the most important band in history. The capital has had its fair share of brilliant bands, wonderful solo artists and records that changed the world. So in no particular order. Here we go.
I’ve never hidden the fact that I’m a huge Blur fan. ‘The Universal’ is one of the band’s most famous songs, a standout from their 1995 album The Great Escape. It has a timeless quality and has closed Blur gigs for years, becoming a call to arms for fans with its soaring, unforgettable chorus. Alongside Pulp’s ‘Common People,’ it is the song I most associate with Britpop.
Released as the second single from 'The Great Escape', the final chapter of Blur’s so-called “Life Trilogy,” ‘The Universal’ remains one of the band’s greatest achievements and a defining anthem of Britpop. From the very first strings, the song feels cinematic, its orchestral arrangement evoking the opening credits of a vintage sci-fi film. This grandeur was intentional: Blur wanted a sweeping, ambitious sound to match the weight of the song’s themes, disillusionment, escapism, and the contradictions of modern life.
Damon Albarn’s vocals set the tone immediately, carrying a weary melancholy as he opens with, “This is the next century, where the universal’s free.” What sounds optimistic is deeply ironic. Albarn has revealed that he wrote the song while on Prozac, reflecting on the numbing effect it had on his perception of the world. Beneath the lush instrumentation lies a dystopian vision: a society medicated and distracted into passivity, where technology and consumerism promise happiness while masking alienation. The repeated refrain, “It really, really, really could happen,” is simultaneously hopeful and unsettling, part mantra, part warning.
Some have linked the song to the launch of the UK National Lottery in 1994, feeding into Albarn’s satirical exploration of chance, fate, and empty promises. While tracks like ‘It Could Be You’ touch on similar ideas, ‘The Universal’ feels broader and more enduring. It transcends a single cultural moment, capturing the essence of modern life shaped by quick fixes and instant gratification
Over the years, ‘The Universal’ has grown into more than just a single it has achieved an almost anthemic status. It has often closed Blur’s most monumental live shows, from Hyde Park to Glastonbury in 2009, and most recently at Wembley in 2023. Each performance transforms the chorus into a collective release, uniting tens of thousands of voices in a moment of sheer transcendence.
I feel like this is both a really obvious choice and a bit of a curveball. ‘Let’s Dance’ is one of Bowie's most popular songs, and for good reason. Yet if you ask most people what his “best” work is, I doubt many would mention it. Yet it has to make this list. It was the song that got me into David Bowie, and even today, it still sounds contemporary and modern. There’s something about its crisp production, infectious groove, and Bowie’s effortless charisma that makes it feel timeless, like it could have been recorded yesterday.
Beyond its personal significance, ‘Let’s Dance’ captures a pivotal moment in Bowie’s career. Released in 1983 as the lead single from the album of the same name, it marked a deliberate move toward mainstream pop and dance music, while still retaining his signature artistry. The collaboration with producer Nile Rodgers brought a glossy, infectious energy that fused funk, rock, and pop in a way few artists could pull off. Bowie’s voice glides over the rhythm, simultaneously playful and commanding, inviting listeners to the dance floor while hinting at his deeper, often enigmatic persona.
What makes ‘Let’s Dance’ so enduring is that it manages to be both instantly enjoyable and subtly sophisticated. On the surface, it’s a song that makes you move, sing along, and feel good, but like much of Bowie’s work, it’s layered. Its timelessness comes not only from its sound but from Bowie himself: a chameleon who could reinvent pop music without losing his essence. For me, this song will always be a gateway into Bowie’s world, a perfect introduction that still feels fresh and exhilarating decades later.
Queen are one of the most iconic bands in rock history, and there’s no shortage of songs I could have chosen. I didn’t want to overcomplicate it, though. ‘Hammer to Fall’ is, in simple terms, a brilliant song that allows every member of the band to shine. Freddie Mercury delivers one of his most commanding vocals, Roger Taylor drives the song forward with his pulsating drums, John Deacon anchors it with a clever, propulsive bass line, and Brian May’s guitar solo adds that soaring, unmistakable Queen flourish.
Released in 1984 as part of 'The Works', the song balances blistering rock energy with surprisingly reflective lyrics. On the surface, it’s a hard-hitting anthem, but beneath that driving beat is a meditation on mortality, the passage of time, and the inevitability of conflict, especially at the time it was written, the height of the Cold War. The “hammer” is as much metaphorical as it is literal. This duality is part of what gives the song such staying power: it can be enjoyed as a pure rock experience, but it also carries deeper emotional resonance.
‘Hammer to Fall’ earned extra acclaim when Queen performed it at Live Aid in 1985, in front of an estimated 1.9 billion viewers worldwide. In that moment, the song became more than just a track on an album; it was a showcase of Queen’s unmatched ability to command a stage and connect with a global audience. Its energy, precision, and passion translated perfectly to the live arena, cementing its status as a concert staple.
Over the years, the song has remained a fan favourite, appearing regularly in Queen setlists and live recordings. Its appeal lies not only in its technical brilliance but in its ability to evoke a visceral reaction: it’s thrilling, empowering, and somehow both timeless and immediate. ‘Hammer to Fall’ is a reminder of Queen’s genius at combining virtuosity with accessibility, intellect with instinct, and theatrics with authenticity. In short, it’s quintessential Queen, and it's definitely my favourite song of theirs.
The title track of Pink Floyd’s 1975 album was always going to make this list, and for me, it has a special place. Written by both Roger Waters and David Gilmour, the song is built around a delicate twelve-string guitar, layered with acoustic guitars that create a warm, intimate sound. Unlike much of Pink Floyd’s often sprawling and experimental discography, this track is deceptively simple, yet deeply moving.
At the heart of the song are its lyrics, which explore connection, vulnerability, and the passage of time. The line “We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year” is one of the most poignant in all of Pink Floyd’s catalogue. It encapsulates the feeling of being trapped in a repetitive cycle, yearning for meaning, while finding solace in companionship. On a deeper level, it reflects the band’s own experience of fame: the isolation and disconnection that comes with living in a public “fishbowl,” where personal relationships and creativity can feel constrained by commercial pressures and constant scrutiny.
While it may reference individual relationships or the bonds between the band members themselves, it also captures a broader sense of alienation, the tension between human vulnerability and the pressures of the outside world. It is a meditation on friendship, love, and the subtle ways people try to hold onto connection in a world that often feels confining. Gilmour’s vocals carry a gentle, reflective melancholy, perfectly complementing Waters’ introspective lyrics, while the layered guitars create a warm, enveloping soundscape that draws the listener into its contemplative world.
What makes this track timeless is its honesty. There are no grandiose narratives or overt dramatics; instead, it resonates because it speaks to real human experiences of loss, longing, and the quiet strength of connection. The imagery of two souls endlessly swimming in a fishbowl is at once beautiful and melancholic, symbolising both the limitations of life and the enduring power of friendship to provide meaning and comfort. It’s a testament to Pink Floyd’s ability to blend emotional depth with musical sophistication, crafting a song that is at once intimate, universal, and profoundly moving a track that continues to feel relevant and modern, nearly five decades after its release.
The Libertines are usually known for their loud, brash, punk-infused anthems, so ‘Music When the Lights Go Out’ stands out as a striking departure. It’s an acoustic ballad that captures the quiet aftermath of a relationship’s end, showing a more vulnerable side of a band typically defined by chaos and swagger. The starkness of the arrangement, delicate guitar, gentle percussion, and subtle harmonies let the lyrics take centre stage.
Speaking of lyrics, this track arguably contains the best writing in The Libertines’ catalogue. Pete Doherty and Carl Barât craft lines that feel intimate and raw, capturing the mix of melancholy, regret, and lingering affection that comes with lost love. There’s a reflective quality to the song that elevates it beyond a simple breakup ballad, making it timeless and deeply relatable.
The brilliance of the song lies in its lyrics. From the opening lines “Is it cruel or kind / Not to speak my mind / And to lie to you / Rather than hurt you” the listener is drawn into a deeply personal confession. Pete Doherty reflects on guilt, honesty, and the tension between self-preservation and emotional responsibility. The repeated admissions of hiding feelings, paired with references to drinking (“After several large gins / But still I'll hide from you”), create a raw, human portrait of someone grappling with regret and loss.
Throughout the song, memory and nostalgia are central themes. Lines like “All the memories of the pubs / And the clubs and the drugs and the tubs / We shared together / Will stay with me forever” evoke both the highs and the lows of the relationship, capturing the dizzying mixture of love, chaos, and youthful recklessness.
Yet even amid these recollections, there’s a growing sense of absence and disconnection: “I no longer hear the music / When the lights go out / Love goes cold in the shades of doubt.” The “music” becomes a metaphor for joy, intimacy, and emotional connection, all of which feel lost in the aftermath of the breakup.
The lyrics also convey a sense of finality and melancholy: “The girl I thought I knew has gone / With her, my heart it disappeared.” There’s no grand reconciliation or dramatic flourish, just the quiet, poignant realisation that what once was vibrant and alive has faded. It’s this emotional honesty, paired with the understated acoustic arrangement, that makes the song feel timeless.
'Music When the Lights Go Out' is more than a breakup ballad; it’s a meditation on intimacy, regret, and memory. The Libertines strip away their usual bravado to reveal the fragility beneath, showing that even in the midst of chaos, there’s space for reflection, vulnerability, and enduring emotional resonance. It’s arguably the band’s most lyrically sophisticated track and a 2000s classic that continues to connect with listeners years later.
I absolutely love this song, the way it builds and builds, swelling with emotion and tension until it feels almost cinematic. Kate Bush is one of the most unique artists the UK has ever produced, and ‘Cloudbusting’ is a perfect example of her genius. It often gets overlooked, overshadowed by the iconic title track of her 1985 album 'Hounds of Love', but the fact that you have to go and find it makes it even more special.
Musically, the song is a marvel. It combines a driving, almost martial rhythm with sweeping strings and ethereal synths, creating a sense of urgency and wonder. Bush’s vocals are extraordinary, oscillating between innocence, determination, and awe, perfectly capturing the story at the heart of the song. Lyrically, ‘Cloudbusting’ tells the tale of a father and son experimenting with a cloud machine, inspired by the real-life story of Wilhelm Reich.
What makes the song timeless is how it blends storytelling and emotion into a musical experience that is both cinematic and deeply personal. There’s a childlike wonder and a profound poignancy at the same time. A combination that few artists can pull off. Listening to it, you can feel the heart of the narrative and the intensity of the bond between father and child, making it both a story and an emotional journey.
‘Cloudbusting’ may not always get the recognition it deserves, but for those who discover it, it becomes unforgettable. Its layering, emotional depth, and sheer inventiveness make it one of the very best songs of the 1980s
Another of Britain’s female music icons, this time with a more recent classic. Released in 2015 from Florence + The Machine’s album 'How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful', ‘Queen of Peace’ helped propel Florence Welch to a Glastonbury headline set and solidified her place with the British public.
The song is an epic, cinematic journey, combining soaring vocals, a pulsating driving beat, and lush instrumentation that includes shimmering guitars, layered percussion, and brass flourishes. Florence’s performance effortlessly moves between soft, intimate moments and full-throttle crescendos, creating a track that is both grand and immersive.
An epic 5 minutes that showcases everything that makes Florence great, effortlessly navigating wide-ranging octaves, conveying both raw emotion and delicate nuance.
From start to finish, ‘Queen of Peace’ keeps the listener fully engaged, balancing energy, drama, and a sense of scale that few modern tracks achieve. It’s a modern masterpiece: bold, ambitious, and unforgettable, and a perfect showcase of Florence + The Machine at the height of their creative powers.
It's spectacular.
I've been critical of Coldplay's career. Particularly with recent releases, but my reasons for that are simple. I don't think it touches their earlier work. 'Clocks' in particular is one of the finest examples of Coldplay's early 2000s output.
Released in 2002 as part of their sophomore album ‘A Rush of Blood to the Head,’ ‘Clocks’ is a song that defines Coldplay at their creative peak. Built around Jonny Buckland’s chiming, hypnotic piano riff, it has a timeless, almost meditative quality. The melody is both urgent and soothing, with Chris Martin’s plaintive vocals delivering lyrics that wrestle with time, destiny, and the weight of choices left unmade. It is at once melancholic and uplifting, a paradox that became central to Coldplay’s appeal.
The track also represents the band’s ability to merge intimacy with grandeur. Sparse in its components, piano, vocals, drums, guitar it nevertheless expands into something vast and immersive. Will Champion’s driving percussion builds momentum while Buckland’s guitar textures add atmosphere, creating a sound that feels cinematic without ever losing its emotional core.
‘Clocks’ not only became a defining moment in Coldplay’s discography but also a cultural touchstone of the early 2000s. It went on to win the Grammy Award for Record of the Year in 2004, solidifying their reputation as one of Britain’s most important bands of the era. More than two decades later, it remains instantly recognisable, its cascading piano riff as evocative as ever.
The band’s setlist has changed countless times over the years as their sound has evolved, yet ‘Clocks’ has remained ever-present. No matter what direction Coldplay have taken, whether the intimate balladry of their early albums, the stadium-sized anthems of the mid-2000s, or the pop-driven experiments of their later work, ‘Clocks’ continues to anchor their live shows. Its instantly recognisable piano riff has become a kind of signature, a moment fans wait for, and one that always delivers.
Performed under dazzling stage lights or accompanied by massive crowd sing-alongs, the song’s hypnotic rhythm and soaring vocals translate perfectly to the live setting. It’s a track that not only showcases Coldplay’s musicianship but also unites audiences in a shared experience, reminding them of the band’s golden era while still feeling timeless.
For me, ‘Clocks’ embodies everything that made Coldplay so special in their early years: introspective lyrics, innovative musicianship, and an ability to create music that felt both deeply personal and universally resonant. It’s a reminder of just how powerful and original they were at their peak.
9. The Jam- Thick as Thieves
A song about friendship, a friendship coming to an end. Paul Weller had really matured as a songwriter by the time he wrote this track, and the song and the album it appeared on, 'Setting Sons', marked a turning point for The Jam. It was a moment where they entered a new era, one that would see them become truly unstoppable.
The song captures that bittersweet tension perfectly: the feeling of growing apart from someone who was once central to your life, and the mix of nostalgia and regret that comes with it. Weller’s lyrics are precise and evocative, portraying not just the end of a friendship but the broader passage of time, the changes in people, and the inevitable shifts in relationships as you grow older. The band’s sound had also evolved sharper, more polished, yet still brimming with the raw energy that made The Jam so compelling.
What makes the track particularly remarkable is how Weller balances specificity with universality. You can hear the story of a particular friendship, yet it speaks to anyone who has ever experienced the slow drift that happens when life moves on. There’s a sense of acceptance in the song, too, not bitterness, but a recognition that change is part of growing up.
It’s a track that resonates on multiple levels. On the surface, it’s about a friendship ending, but beneath that, it reflects on personal growth, change, and the melancholy of looking back on what once was. In that sense, it’s timeless, a reflection on life’s transitions wrapped in Weller’s unmistakable songwriting brilliance. And it’s also a reminder of why The Jam’s influence endures: they could capture fleeting moments of human emotion and turn them into songs that remain profoundly relatable decades later.
The oldest song on this list, released in 1968, comes from an album that was initially slated by critics but has since become a revered classic: 'The Kinks Are The Village Green Preservation Society.' The album as a whole is a masterclass in storytelling, blending nostalgia, social observation, and subtle satire. Each track captures a distinctly English sensibility, yet there’s a timelessness to it that allows it to resonate decades later.
The song itself carries that very English feel, while also venturing into the surreal, wondering what is up in the 'Big Sky.' Its whimsical yet reflective tone almost anticipates the Britpop sound that would emerge decades later. The imagery is both vivid and imaginative, capturing a sense of place while exploring broader, almost dreamlike themes, a balance of the everyday and the fantastical that was rare at the time.
The Kinks were genuinely ahead of their time, crafting music that was clever, melodic, and full of character, laying a blueprint for future generations of British songwriters. Their influence can be felt in the way later artists approached narrative in pop music, combining storytelling, wit, and social commentary without ever sacrificing catchiness. The song and the album it comes from show that pop music can be both deeply rooted in culture and forward-looking, inspiring musicians to experiment with lyrical perspective, musical arrangement, and the blending of reality with imagination.
Their influence is undeniable. Damon Albarn’s work with Blur carries echoes of The Kinks’ storytelling and distinctly English charm, while Paul Weller’s songwriting with The Jam and beyond clearly channels their wit, observational lyrics, and melodic inventiveness. 'The Kinks are The Village Green Preservation Society' isn’t just a record, it’s a touchstone for anyone who values sharp, narrative-driven pop music with heart, humour, and a deeply rooted sense of place.
The album’s impact extends far beyond individual artists. Its combination of pastoral English imagery, satirical social commentary, and melodic sophistication paved the way for generations of British musicians to explore their own sense of identity and culture in their work. Songs like this demonstrate that pop music can be both intellectually engaging and emotionally resonant, balancing whimsy with melancholy, nostalgia with modernity. Even today, its themes of memory, change, and belonging continue to resonate, influencing not only Britpop icons like Blur and Oasis but also countless singer-songwriters who see in The Kinks a blueprint for crafting music that is both personal and universally relatable.
A record that changed everything. It didn’t just introduce punk, it detonated it. Into the complacency of 1970s Britain, with its economic malaise, political unrest, and generational frustration, the Sex Pistols threw a petrol bomb of sound and fury. This song wasn’t merely a track on vinyl; it was a statement, a manifesto, a howl of rage that captured the anger and disillusionment of an entire generation.
The country was unravelling. Unemployment was soaring, hitting young people hardest, leaving them trapped in council estates with few prospects and little hope. Inflation and strikes made daily life a struggle for millions, while the government seemed unable or unwilling to provide solutions. Across the Irish Sea and in Northern Ireland, the IRA waged a bloody campaign, and the violence of the Troubles loomed over everyday life.
Meanwhile, the Cold War cast its long shadow. The threat of nuclear annihilation was a constant background hum, and British youth grew up in a world where fear, distrust, and political cynicism were everyday companions. Popular culture was suffused with malaise; the art, music, and fashion of the time reflected frustration, boredom, and a desperate hunger for change.
Into this landscape stormed the Sex Pistols. Their music was raw, unpolished, and unapologetic. The lyrics of 'Anarchy in the UK' reflected the confusion, anger, and chaos of the era:
"Is this the MPLA
Or is this the UDA
Or is this the IRAI
thought it was the UK
Or just
Another country
Another council tenancy"
‘Anarchy in the UK’ was raw, chaotic, and unapologetic. It was music stripped of pretence, full of venom and attitude, a confrontation aimed directly at a society that had grown bored, rigid, and self-satisfied. The lyrics were both terrifying and exhilarating, referencing the political turmoil of the era while simultaneously mocking the very idea of authority and order.
Punk was more than music; it was a mirror held up to society, a provocation, and an invitation to rebel. People were terrified. Nothing like the Sex Pistols had existed before: confrontational, explosive, and uncompromising. They came fast, burned bright, and imploded, but the impact was indelible. The sound of rebellion, of youth refusing to be silenced, had arrived. Britain and the world would never be the same again.
And it all started here, with this single track
Earlier in the list, I chose one of Blur’s biggest hits. This time, I wanted to spotlight a criminally underrated gem. From the band’s brilliant album 'Modern Life is Rubbish', this track is packed with reflections on British life at the time. It feels almost like a testing ground for the ideas Damon Albarn would refine so effectively on 'Parklife'. There’s also speculation that 'Chemical World' nods to acid or magic mushrooms, suggesting that life feels simpler, more vivid, or more absurd in a “chemical world.” Whatever the interpretation, one thing is certain: it’s a hidden gem in Blur’s already impressive discography.
The song perfectly captures Blur’s early experimentation with sound and subject matter. Released as the second single from 'Modern Life is Rubbish', it stands out with its sharp yet slightly psychedelic edge. Its concise structure brims with restless energy, while Albarn’s lyrics weave surreal, dreamlike images of urban life, highlighting its absurdity, isolation, and disconnection. The result is both playful and bleak, reflecting the tension at the heart of Blur’s early ’90s identity.
What makes 'Chemical World' so striking is how unique it feels within Blur’s catalogue. While the band would later lean fully into Britpop swagger, here they blend jagged guitar riffs with a woozy, almost hallucinatory atmosphere that hints at the more experimental directions they would explore later. The imagery of chemical dependence and urban alienation captures a snapshot of its era, yet the song never feels weighed down by its themes. Albarn’s wry vocal delivery and the band’s driving, restless performance keep the track lively, immediate, and unforgettable.
'Chemical World' is a reminder of Blur’s ability to balance catchy hooks with deeper complexity, a song that rewards repeated listening and reveals new details each time. It’s a standout example of a band unafraid to push boundaries, even when the wider world wasn’t paying attention.
A hugely important song for the band, it ushered in a new decade and gave them their first Number One Single. The band's first single of the 1980s was actually meant to be 'The Dreams of Children', a poignant reflection on the loss of childhood optimism, accompanied by the B-side 'Going Underground'. However, due to a labelling error, the sides were accidentally reversed. As a result, 'Going Underground' became the A-side and received all the attention and airplay. Listed as a double A-side, the track went on to reach Number 1 in the UK, giving The Jam their first chart-topping hit. It remained at the top for three weeks, cementing the band’s status as a voice of the era.
Lyrically, the song was a sharp critique of Margaret Thatcher’s newly elected Tory government and the public’s preoccupation with the needs of the military and industry, priorities that, in the band’s view, led society to neglect the needs of its own people. Written by a young Paul Weller just 22 at the time, 'Going Underground' demonstrated a remarkable maturity and awareness beyond his years. The lyrics are both direct and evocative, capturing the frustration and disillusionment of a generation.
Going Underground' stands as another crucial record in The Jam’s catalogue: their first Number One single and one of the defining British protest songs of the period. Its biting lyrics, insistent rhythm, and urgent delivery captured the frustrations of a generation, resonating far beyond the charts. Over time, it has become not only one of The Jam’s most celebrated tracks but also one of the most enduring and iconic songs of the 1980s, a snapshot of a politically charged era, delivered with punk-infused precision and melodic mastery. Its energy, wit, and sharp social commentary continue to make it feel as relevant today as it did more than forty years ago.
Very few songs on this list have had the impact that 'Heroes' has had. More than just a song, it's a snapshot into a moment in history, an anthem of hope born from the streets of a divided 1970s Berlin.
In the mid-1970s, David Bowie was in crisis. His struggle with drug addiction in Los Angeles had led to personal turmoil, and his music was veering toward the chaos of fame’s darker side. Seeking refuge, Bowie fled to Berlin, a city divided by the Berlin Wall, where East and West Germany stood as tense symbols of the Cold War. He moved into a modest apartment with Iggy Pop, his friend and collaborator, and began to reinvent himself. Moving away from the excess of LA to a rather more grounded life. He lived on a normal street, in a normal apartment and got to work on making music, and work he did. Bowie made three albums in Berlin, including 'Heroes'
Berlin was both physically and metaphorically split, a living reminder of humanity's divisions. But for Bowie, it also represented a place of renewal. It was gritty, raw, and alive with underground art scenes. His time in Berlin would allow him to reset, and it was here, at Hansa Studios, near the Wall itself, that he crafted some of his most experimental work.
Written and recorded with longtime collaborator Brian Eno and producer Tony Visconti, “Heroes” emerged from a jam session. The music itself was built on layers of synthetic sounds, Eno’s ambient influences mixing with Bowie’s melodic sensibilities. The song’s driving rhythm and shimmering guitar lines came courtesy of Robert Fripp, whose distinctive style gave the track an otherworldly yet urgent feel. Bowie was surrounding himself with the very best musicians and focusing on making great music again.
But the heart of 'Heroes' is its story, a tale of two lovers meeting at the Wall, defying the world around them for a fleeting moment of togetherness.
The lyrics, "We can be heroes, just for one day," capture the bittersweet essence of their love: a brief, beautiful act of defiance against the harsh reality of their world.
Bowie himself later revealed that the inspiration for the song came from witnessing a couple, his producer Tony Visconti and a mystery woman, kissing by the Wall. In that moment, Bowie saw the possibility of transcendence, even in the most oppressive circumstances. The power of love seemed to override everything else that was happening. As the city was divided, this couple became united.
'Heroes' wasn’t just a love song; it was a symbol of hope. Released during a time when the world was gripped by fear and division, the track resonated far beyond Berlin. Its message, one of fleeting heroism in the face of overwhelming odds, spoke to the human condition itself. People everywhere understood the longing for freedom, for connection, for love in a world that often seems bent on destruction.
Though the song didn't initially become a massive commercial success, over the years, 'Heroes' has grown into one of Bowie’s most enduring works. When Bowie performed it in 1987, in front of the Reichstag in West Berlin, it became a rallying cry for unity. East Berliners gathered on the other side of the Wall, drawn by Bowie’s voice, It has been said that the speakers were turned slightly so it could be heard in the East Side of the city, an soon those people began to sing and some say that the emotional power of that performance played a small part in the momentum that led to the Wall’s fall two years later in 1989.
Bowie also called out to those on the other side of the wall just before playing 'Heroes'
“We send our best wishes to all of our friends who are on the other side of the wall,” said Bowie. It led to over 200 East Berliners charging at the wall, resulting in arrests and beatings. Demonstrations broke out, and it became one of the numerous acts of civil unrest that would lead to the fall of the wall in 1989 and the subsequent fall of the Iron Curtain.
Bowie is still revered in Berlin, having been there myself; his murals are seen across the city. Shops play his music, his apartment has become a memorial to the man, with flowers and messages left. He's one of the most influential figures to have ever lived in the city.
The track’s minimalist structure, combined with its emotional depth, makes it feel timeless. It has been covered by countless artists, used in films, and played at historic events. But its real magic lies in its ability to inspire anyone who has felt trapped by their circumstances, yet yearned for just one moment of triumph. As Bowie sings in the song’s final moments, his voice rising over the insistent pulse of the music, “We can be us, just for one day.” It’s a reminder that sometimes, in our briefest acts of courage, we become more than ourselves. We become heroes.
This track is a remarkable 70s effort from Queen and holds the special distinction of being the first song ever written by John Deacon. And what a debut it was. Deacon didn’t just contribute a song; he crafted a tender, intimate piece that revealed a softer, more personal side of Queen, contrasting sharply with their usual flamboyant and theatrical style. Written as a heartfelt tribute to his wife, the song is a beautifully simple love letter, showcasing Deacon’s innate sense of melody and sensitivity as a songwriter. Its lyrical honesty and emotional warmth stand out in an era when Queen was often celebrated for their bombastic rock anthems, complex arrangements, and genre-defying experimentation.
Musically, the song highlights Deacon’s gift for combining straightforward, elegant composition with subtle sophistication. The gentle rhythm, melodic bass lines, and understated instrumentation allow the lyrics and sentiment to shine, making it both accessible and deeply affecting. Over time, it has become a fan favourite, often cited as a hidden gem in Queen’s expansive catalogue.
As a track on ‘A Night at the Opera’, arguably Queen’s most ambitious and celebrated album, it occupies a special place. The album is known for its stylistic diversity, from the operatic grandeur of ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ to the rock energy of ‘Death on Two Legs,’ and this song adds a delicate, personal counterpoint that enriches the record’s emotional tapestry. Its inclusion demonstrates the band’s versatility and willingness to explore intimate themes alongside their more extravagant musical statements.
Today, the song stands not only as a highlight of ‘A Night at the Opera’ but also as a testament to John Deacon’s songwriting talent, a quiet, enduring reminder that some of Queen’s most memorable moments came from their ability to balance theatricality with heartfelt simplicity
Another masterful effort from the rock legends, this time showcasing a much more experimental side of their artistry. Taken from the band’s iconic 1973 album, ‘The Dark Side of the Moon,’ ‘Time’ stands out as a brooding and introspective meditation on the relentless passage of life. Unlike straightforward rock tracks, it’s layered, atmospheric, and deeply philosophical, reflecting the album’s overarching themes of mortality, mental strain, and the human experience.
Lyrically, ‘Time’ is among the band’s most poignant and incisive. It explores the sudden realisation of life slipping away, the regret of wasted opportunities, and the inevitable march toward ageing and death. Lines about waking up “shorter of breath and one day closer to death” capture a universal anxiety in a way that is both personal and relatable, giving the song emotional resonance that goes far beyond typical rock fare.
Musically, the track is nothing short of brilliant. It opens with the sound of clocks chiming, immediately immersing the listener in a sense of urgency and inevitability. The layering of guitars, synthesizers, and rich vocal harmonies mirrors the song’s thematic depth, while the driving rhythm evokes the sensation of time racing forward. Every element of the instrumentation, from the swelling organ tones to the intricate guitar solos, serves to heighten the tension and underscore the lyrical message.
Within the context of ‘The Dark Side of the Moon,’ one of the most celebrated and influential albums in rock history, ‘Time’ is a crucial centrepiece. The album itself is a concept work that examines the pressures of modern life, mental health, greed, and mortality, and ‘Time’ crystallises these themes more vividly than almost any other track. The song’s combination of technical mastery, emotional weight, and philosophical reflection exemplifies why the album remains timeless, resonating with listeners decades after its release.
Listening to ‘Time’ is a breathtaking experience; it forces introspection, evokes a sense of awe, and demonstrates the band’s unique ability to fuse experimental soundscapes with profound human truths.
Another standout effort from the 2000s, ‘This Modern Love’ comes from Bloc Party’s critically acclaimed 2005 debut album, ‘Silent Alarm.’ The track immediately demonstrates the band’s knack for blending post-punk energy with emotional depth, creating a sound that feels cinematic and immersive. From the very first note, the song has a distinct “soundtrack” quality, with its interwoven call-and-response vocals and a repeating, hypnotic guitar line that pulls the listener in.
As the verses unfold, the interplay between Kele Okereke’s vocals and the backing responses creates a sense of dialogue and intimacy, giving the impression of a story being told in real time. But it’s the choruses where the song truly soars: building gradually into a sprawling, anthemic climax, the arrangement layers guitars, drums, and synths to create a sense of urgency and emotional release. It’s a masterclass in tension and payoff, demonstrating Bloc Party’s skill at balancing precision with raw energy.
Within the context of ‘Silent Alarm,’ ‘This Modern Love’ occupies a special place. The album as a whole captures the post-punk revival of the mid-2000s while exploring themes of modern relationships, urban life, and emotional vulnerability. This track exemplifies that approach perfectly it’s intimate yet expansive, angular yet melodic, and both urgent and reflective. While it may not have received the same mainstream attention as some of the album’s singles, it has endured as one of Bloc Party’s very best and an underrated gem of the decade.
Even nearly two decades on, ‘This Modern Love’ continues to resonate, offering both an exhilarating listening experience and a reminder of the band’s ability to craft music that feels both immediate and timeless. Its blend of clever songwriting, dynamic arrangements, and emotional depth makes it a highlight not only of ‘Silent Alarm’ but of the 2000s indie scene as a whole.
An absolute masterpiece from start to finish, ‘Silk’ is proof of just how special Wolf Alice were right from their debut. For any band to record a song this accomplished so early in their career is astonishing, and it stands as a testament to their ambition and talent. A sprawling, atmospheric epic, it places Ellie Rowsell’s lyrics and vocals at the very heart of the track, weaving intimacy and scale in equal measure. For many listeners, it’s the song that first sparked a love affair with the band—and it remains their crowning jewel, even as they’ve gone on to deliver three brilliant records filled with unforgettable moments.
On ‘My Love Is Cool,’ their 2015 debut, ‘Silk’ is its most atmospheric moment: a hushed, synth-driven counterpoint to the snarling grunge of ‘Lisbon’ and the indie-pop brightness of ‘Freazy.’ Where those tracks thrive on immediacy, ‘Silk’ is patient, slow-burning, and cinematic. Rowsell begins in a whisper, her voice moving between inner doubts and the harsh judgments of others, as though the song were a dialogue between vulnerability and defiance.
From its faint, ethereal beginnings, the track gradually grows. Her vocals pierce through the electronic beat like shafts of light in a darkened room. Layers of texture swell and intertwine, the atmosphere thickens, and the once-fragile delivery hardens with quiet determination. As the drums come in, first restrained, then insistent, the song shifts gears, building toward something far bigger, something grand, something special.
By its climax, ‘Silk’ has transformed into a grand, near-cosmic soundscape. Percussion crashes with power, synths pulse and shimmer, and Rowsell’s voice soars above it all, rising from delicate whispers to an almost celestial cry. The effect is breathtaking, a journey that moves from introspection to transcendence in just a few minutes.
‘Silk’ isn’t just a highlight of Wolf Alice’s debut, it’s the track that set the tone for everything that would follow. It proved that they weren’t simply another indie guitar band, but a group capable of creating music that is vast, emotional, and incomparable. Even now, it remains one of the defining songs of their career and arguably the defining moment of their first album.
A song that marked yet another reinvention for one of Britain’s most important male artists, ‘Freedom! ’90’ is both a declaration and a liberation. Written at a turning point in George Michael’s career, the lyrics reflect a man reckoning with where he had been, the price of fame, and how he arrived at this moment of clarity. It’s a confessional piece, but also a statement of intent: the sound of an artist stripping away expectation and finally embracing who he truly was.
Lyrically, the song is remarkably candid. George reflects on his early years, the machinery of the pop industry, and the identity he projected to the world. In lines that bristle with both honesty and defiance, he acknowledges the compromises of his past while asserting his refusal to play that game any longer. It is the sound of an artist who no longer cares what people think, someone stepping out from the shadows of a constructed image into authenticity.
Musically, ‘Freedom! ’90’ is bold, vibrant, and celebratory, built on a funky groove, gospel-tinged backing vocals, and a soaring chorus. The production mirrors the message: euphoric yet reflective, deeply personal yet universal. It’s a track that doesn’t just tell us about transformation, it makes us feel it.
Culturally, ‘Freedom! ’90’ was seismic. Its iconic music video, directed by David Fincher, featured supermodels like Naomi Campbell, Cindy Crawford, Linda Evangelista, and Christy Turlington lip-syncing the lyrics while George himself refused to appear on camera. That decision was deliberate: a bold rejection of being objectified as just another beautiful pop star, and a radical statement that his art would speak louder than his image. In doing so, he shifted the focus from surface glamour to substance, a move that has since been seen as one of the most defining acts of creative autonomy in pop history.
More than just a hit single, ‘Freedom! ’90’ is arguably the most important song George Michael ever wrote. It captures the essence of his artistry: brave, unfiltered, and unwilling to be boxed in by the expectations of others. Decades later, it stands as a defining moment in his career and a powerful anthem of liberation, not only for him but for anyone who has ever felt the need to reclaim their own identity and voice
Some songs completely change a band’s trajectory. ‘Yellow’ is one of those. A song that has resonated with generations, remained a mainstay of Coldplay’s live shows, and one that nearly didn’t even make the album.
‘Yellow’ wasn’t born out of a profound epiphany or deep experience, but rather from a spur-of-the-moment decision. According to Chris Martin, the band had just finished recording another track for ‘Parachutes’ and wanted to quickly create one more song to fill the album. While taking a break outside the studio, Martin gazed up at the night sky and the opening line came to him. The word yellow was also a spontaneous choice rather than anything symbolic. Martin later revealed that the title came from a Yellow Pages phone book lying around the studio.
There was no grand meaning, no hidden symbolism. Just simply a word that fits the melody and the mood. Yet out of that simplicity, something magical was created, something that would go on to become a universal metaphor for love.
Released as the band’s second single from their debut album ‘Parachutes,’ ‘Yellow’ was the track that propelled Coldplay from indie underdogs to international superstars. Its success changed everything, positioning them as one of the most important British bands of the new millennium.
The song’s key strength lies in its simplicity. Built around an uncomplicated structure and a repeated guitar melody, the track allows its sonic landscape to perfectly complement the lyrics. Martin’s vocals are especially poignant here, full of vulnerability and pure unfiltered devotion.
‘Yellow’ marked the beginning of Coldplay’s rise to global fame, but its impact extends far beyond chart success. It has become a cornerstone of their live performances, often serving as the emotional peak of their concerts.
For many, ‘Yellow’ is still the band’s greatest achievement, the song they have never quite surpassed. One thing is certain: without ‘Yellow,’ Coldplay would not be the band they are today. For countless listeners, it was their introduction to the group, and its nostalgic pull has only grown stronger with time. Upon release, it reached number four on the UK Singles Chart and immediately established Coldplay as a major force in the alternative rock scene. Fans and critics alike recognised its brilliance from the very start.
This is one of Bowie's best efforts; it defined his early 1970s output, elevating him to new heights and introducing the world to Ziggy Stardust. Arguably, his most iconic persona. Released in 1972, it became the gateway to the world of ‘The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars,’ the album that cemented Bowie as one of the defining artists of the 1970s.
‘Starman’ was the song that brought Ziggy’s story to life. Its lyrics tell of a mysterious figure in the sky, broadcasting hope to disillusioned youth through their radios. Ziggy, Bowie’s alien rock star alter ego, becomes the vessel for that message, a saviour-like presence who speaks to the outsiders, the dreamers, and the lonely. At a time when rock music often leaned on rebellion or escapism, Bowie offered something more transcendent: the promise of belonging through imagination
Musically, the track is as dazzling as its narrative. Opening with a gentle acoustic strum, it bursts into a soaring chorus that feels both otherworldly and immediate. Mick Ronson’s glittering guitar work and Rick Wakeman’s piano flourishes give the song its theatrical sparkle, while Bowie’s vocals shift between intimacy and grandeur, perfectly embodying the Ziggy persona. The chorus, with its instantly memorable “there’s a starman waiting in the sky,” became an anthem not just for Bowie fans, but for a generation yearning for magic beyond the everyday.
‘Starman’ was a turning point for Bowie’s career. His unforgettable performance of the song on ‘Top of the Pops’ in 1972, draped in a colourful jumpsuit, arm around Ronson, was a watershed moment in British pop culture. It wasn’t just a song being performed; it was the arrival of a new kind of star, one that challenged norms of gender, sexuality, and identity, and expanded the possibilities of what rock music could be.
The song also set the stage for Bowie’s extraordinary run of 1970s albums, a decade in which he would constantly reinvent himself from Ziggy Stardust to Aladdin Sane, the Thin White Duke, and beyond. ‘Starman’ was the spark that ignited a decade of unparalleled creativity, each reinvention as bold as the last.
Looking back, ‘Starman’ is more than just a highlight of Bowie’s catalogue it is one of the great cultural moments of 20th-century music. It captured the optimism, strangeness, and daring of Bowie’s vision and remains one of his most beloved and influential songs. Without it, the mythology of Ziggy Stardust, and perhaps Bowie’s ascent to superstardom, would never have burned quite so brightly.
In simple terms, ‘Bros’ is a song about your mates, and a very good one at that. Beautifully raw and brimming with innocence, it feels like the kind of track that could only appear on a debut album. First released in 2013 before being reworked for Wolf Alice’s debut, it was one of the earliest glimpses fans had of the band’s potential.
In an interview with NME, lead singer Ellie Rowsell described the song as “a sentimental tune to us, it’s grown and changed with us over the past couple of years, taking on different shapes and forms until it evolved into being this definitive album version. It’s an ode to childhood imagination and friendship and all the charm that comes with that.”
That sentiment is at the heart of why ‘Bros’ remains one of Wolf Alice’s finest songs. Expressive and expansive, it captures everything a great pop song should: shimmering instrumentation, Rowsell’s soaring vocal that builds in intensity, and a dreamlike quality that wraps the whole thing in nostalgia. It closes like a memory fading, but leaves a lasting impression.
From the very first listen, ‘Bros’ feels special. After a hundred plays, it still sounds magical. Its universality is its strength, the innocence of youth, the comfort of friendship, and the joy of feeling understood.
“Shake your hair, have some fun
Forget our mothers and past lovers, forget everyone
Oh, I’m so lucky, you are my best friend
Oh, there’s no one, there’s no one who knows me like you do”
It’s brilliant songwriting, universal, anthemic, and deeply personal. And it’s worth remembering: this was still the early days of Wolf Alice. With ‘Bros’, they weren’t just introducing themselves; they were carrying the flag for a new generation of British guitar bands and giving teenagers everywhere a new favourite to believe in.
‘On Melancholy Hill’ is one of those songs that quietly defines a band’s sound. Released in 2010 on Gorillaz’ ambitious third album ‘Plastic Beach,’ it showed Damon Albarn at his most wistful, offering a dreamlike ballad that contrasted sharply with the album’s dense production and star-studded collaborations.
At its core, ‘On Melancholy Hill’ is about longing for reaching for an escape in a world that feels increasingly chaotic. Albarn’s lyrics are simple yet haunting: a vision of sitting on a hill, looking out into the distance, searching for something better, something more peaceful. It’s both childlike and profound, an anthem of quiet yearning that taps into universal emotions of loneliness and hope.
Musically, the track shimmers with understated beauty. Built on gentle synths, a looping guitar line, and Albarn’s hushed, fragile vocal, it creates an atmosphere that feels both nostalgic and futuristic. Where much of ‘Plastic Beach’ is sprawling and experimental, ‘On Melancholy Hill’ strips everything back, offering clarity and calm in the middle of the chaos. Its dream-pop textures and melancholy melody make it one of the most affecting songs in the Gorillaz catalogue.
Though not a chart-topping single, the song quickly became a fan favourite and has grown in stature over time. Its emotional resonance made it one of the standout moments of the ‘Plastic Beach’ era, and it has since become a staple of Gorillaz live shows. When performed, it often brings the audience into a hushed singalong, a moment of collective reflection amid the band’s eclectic setlists.
‘On Melancholy Hill’ also represents a key moment in Gorillaz’ evolution. It revealed Albarn’s ability to use the virtual band as a vessel for intimacy, not just spectacle, and it proved that the project could produce music as deeply human as it was conceptually inventive.
Looking back, it stands as one of Gorillaz’ most iconic tracks, timeless in its simplicity, endlessly replayable, and a song that has touched listeners far beyond the confines of the ‘Plastic Beach’ concept. It’s not just a highlight of the album but a defining moment in their career, showing that even in a virtual world, emotion can shine through with startling clarity.
The penultimate track on Blur’s most famous album, ‘Parklife,’ is a song both about the Shipping Forecast that airs several times a day on BBC Radio 4 and, for the band, a meditation on home. Originally titled ‘We Are the Low,’ the song began life as an instrumental during the 'Parklife' sessions. In the guitar solo, Graham Coxon famously recorded three separate takes, including one where he sat directly in front of his amp, turned up to maximum volume, creating a raw, electrifying sound that added a distinctive edge to the track.
According to bassist Alex James, Damon Albarn was struggling to write lyrics for the track. In his autobiography A Bit of a Blur, James recalls giving Albarn a Christmas gift: a handkerchief printed with a map of the Shipping Forecast regions. “You can never tell where the muse is going to appear,” James reflected. “We always found the Shipping Forecast soothing. We used to listen to it [on the American tour] to remind us of home. It's very good for a hangover. Good cure for insomnia, too.”
On 4 February 1994, the penultimate day of official recording, Albarn was due to go into hospital for a hernia operation. Pressured to finalise the lyrics, he drew inspiration directly from the map James had given him. “I'd had this line ‘And into the sea go pretty England and me’ for a long time,” Albarn revealed. “So I started at the Bay of Biscay. Back for tea. ‘Tea’ rhymes with ‘me.’ And then I went ‘Hit traffic on the Dogger Bank.’ ‘Bank’ ‘Rank’ so ‘up the Thames to find a taxi rank.’ And I just went round.”
The result is a track unlike any other Britpop anthem. Where much of Blur’s contemporaneous output celebrated nightlife, excess, or cheeky social commentary, this song is contemplative, melancholic, and profoundly grounded. It’s a comfort blanket of home, evoking a sense of familiarity after a long night, a road trip, or time spent away from England. In my opinion, it’s the best song on 'Parklife' and arguably the second-best Blur track overall.
Musically, it’s equally remarkable. The four-piece delivers impeccable performances, with Coxon’s layered guitar solos adding depth and texture to the song’s understated framework. Subtle touches in Albarn’s lyrics, like the throwaway line “Radio says,” transition seamlessly into the main, emotive crux of the track, where the title swells alongside overlapping guitar lines, creating a feeling of expansiveness and nostalgia. Stripped from the album context, the song’s longing and quiet desperation to reconnect with a country gradually fading into memory become even more apparent. It is moving, emotionally mature, and, in many ways, timeless a track that perfectly captures the tension between home, travel, and the relentless march of time
‘Time for Heroes’ is one of The Libertines’ defining tracks, capturing the chaotic energy, raw emotion, and youthful urgency that made the band icons of early-2000s British rock. Released in 2002 as a single and later featured on their debut album 'Up the Bracket', the song stands as both a snapshot of a specific moment in London’s music scene and a timeless anthem of rebellion, friendship, and the exhilaration of city life.
Perhaps the album’s defining anthem, ‘Time for Heroes’, distils the band’s ethos into three minutes of blistering urgency. Inspired by the May Day riots in London, where Pete Doherty witnessed police brutality firsthand, the track became a rallying cry for a generation disenfranchised by politics and apathetic culture. Lines like “Did you see the stylish kids in the riot?” and “There are fewer more distressing sights than that of an Englishman in a baseball cap” combine disillusionment with romanticism, perfectly capturing the tension and energy of urban youth.
Written by Doherty and Carl Barât, the track is deeply autobiographical. It chronicles the riots and police clashes that Doherty experienced in Camden during his youth, giving the song a visceral, first-hand sense of urban unrest. The jagged riffs and breathless pace capture the feeling of being young, angry, and idealistic in a world that seems to have given up. It is both a lament and a provocation, cementing The Libertines as the voice of Britain’s youth and, according to the press at the time, the next great British band.
Musically, ‘Time for Heroes’ is quintessential Libertines: jagged, urgent, and melodic all at once. The guitars buzz and collide, carrying Doherty and Barât’s vocals with infectious tension, while the rhythm section drives the track forward like a runaway train. The sense of controlled chaos mirrors the lyrical themes of rebellion, camaraderie, and the precariousness of street life, while the melodic hooks create anthemic moments that linger long after the song ends.
The recording process itself reflects the band’s raw, unpolished ethos. Unlike many of their contemporaries, The Libertines embraced imperfection, allowing the energy of the moment to bleed into the music. This approach made ‘Time for Heroes’ feel immediate, urgent, and dangerously alive.
Beyond its musical brilliance, the track has a mythic quality in the band’s narrative. It captures the essence of Doherty and Barât’s partnership—the volatile creativity, reckless abandon, and devotion to London streets and subcultures that defined The Libertines’ early identity. In live shows, ‘Time for Heroes’ becomes a communal event, with audiences shouting the lyrics back at the band, feeding off the same raw energy that inspired the song.
In the context of early-2000s British rock, ‘Time for Heroes’ stands apart. While contemporaries explored polished Britpop revival or post-Britpop melancholy, The Libertines mined authenticity, grit, and chaos. The track is a cornerstone of their catalogue, emblematic of their ability to transform personal experience into collective mythology.
Ultimately, ‘Time for Heroes’ is more than just a song. It is an anthem of youth, rebellion, and fleeting heroism a track that encapsulates The Libertines at their wild, passionate best, and one that continues to resonate as one of the defining moments of their short but electrifying career.
So that brings the list to an end. We’ve had some revolutionary pieces of protest pop, love songs about space, psychedelic efforts about wasted lives and anthems of hope. Thank you for reading x