A band's greatness can be measured by the number of generations it influences. The Stone Roses have soundtracked the lives of teenagers for countless years. They were the band that Liam Gallagher first saw live; they were the band that Noel Gallagher saw that made him believe he could do it. Damon Albarn has cited them as igniting his interest in music.
The band's debut album contains 11 songs that speak to the fundamental aspects of the human condition, no matter the circumstances in which they are played. Hope and optimism reign supreme. For a fleeting moment, there was potential that they could be Britain's biggest ever band. It was the merging of two worlds: indie and acid house, guitars and turntables, Manchester swagger and Liverpool spirit. It was a euphoric stand against the fading grip of Thatcherism, a cultural high point at a time when optimism still felt tangible. Ian Brown’s bold claim that “The Roses will be bigger than The Beatles” felt less like bravado and more like a statement of belief.
Here's my favourite 10 songs by the Roses.
Second album syndrome is something that has been faced by numerous bands. You get your whole life to write your debut record, and then a year or so to write the follow-up. Some bands thrive and you get classics like 'What's the Story Morning Glory', 'Modern Life is Rubbish' and 'Favourite Worst Nightmare'. The Roses seemed almost destined to never live up to their debut; it took them five years to release 'Second Coming' due to circumstances that were not always within their control.
It's an album that I'm not hugely fond of, but 'How Do You Sleep' sits alongside 'Ten Storey Love Song' and 'Love Spreads' as the songs I class as the good ones on the record.
The song is one of the darkest efforts that the band has ever written; it's menacing and emotive. Its opening line is stark in its imagery: "I've seen your severed head at a banquet for the dead", a line that immediately sets a tone of bitterness and confrontation.
Fans have long suspected that the track is a thinly veiled attack on the band's former manager, Gareth Evans, reflecting the tension and mistrust that grew during the difficult period following their debut album. Lyrically, it brims with venom and disillusionment, a world away from the dreamy psychedelia of their earlier work.
Musically, 'How Do You Sleep' is built on a brooding groove, with John Squire's guitar work swirling menacingly around Ian Brown’s accusatory vocals. Mani’s bassline anchors the track with a sense of unease, while Reni’s drums add to its slow-burn intensity. The result is a song that feels claustrophobic and confrontational, a sonic embodiment of betrayal and anger.
Within the context of 'Second Coming' (1994), the track stands out as one of the most emotionally charged and personal, offering a glimpse into the band’s fractured relationships behind the scenes. For many fans, it’s not just a song about one man; it’s a commentary on the darker side of the music industry and the personal toll it takes on artists.
This is one of the band's earliest tracks. Released as their third single in October 1988, and produced by New Order's Peter Hook. It was initially scheduled for release on Rough Trade Records and remixed by John Leckie following a deal with Silvertone Records. Numerous demo versions dating back to 1986 exist as bootlegs.
Released as two alternate versions, the original ran for nearly five minutes and featured an extended drum intro and more prominent bass playing, while the later, shorter cut ran for three minutes and included layers of wah-wah guitar. On its original release, it failed to make the chart, but reached No. 8 on re-release in March 1990.
The song is the perfect time capsule of The Stone Roses, a thumping and propulsive number with catchy hooks and enigmatic lyrics. Pretty much everything that makes the band great is in one great song!
Many have suspected that the song is about drugs, in particular ecstasy, with an 'Elephant Stone' being the tablet itself. The lyrics are the song are all really surreal, particularly wrapped around the wah wah guitars of the original. It's the first psychedelic masterpiece from The Roses.
The B-side from 'She Bangs the Drums' does not contain the mystique of the Mersey that had been sung about in decades previously; instead, it's a much darker song.
The Mersey is a river that goes from Stockport (Greater Manchester) to Liverpool Bay, and in the context of this track, it is used as a weapon, a place of self-destruction rather than inspiration. Unlike the romanticised Mersey of the 1960s Liverpool sound, here it becomes a site of despair, reflecting intrusive thoughts of drowning and escape.
Ian Brown’s vocals carry a detached yet haunting quality, which, when paired with John Squire’s shimmering guitar lines, creates a chilling contrast between the upbeat jangly sound and the bleak subject matter. Mani’s melodic bass adds an almost deceptive lightness, masking the song’s dark lyrical undertones. Lines like “River cools where I belong, in my Mersey paradise” hint at a longing for escape, but one laced with fatalism. The tension between sound and meaning makes 'Mersey Paradise' one of the band’s most unsettling yet fascinating tracks.
Though relegated to a B-side, it has gained cult status among fans, often cited as one of the Roses’ most emotionally charged early songs.
The band's second single and released before the band lineup we came to know best. This song was released before bass player Mani joined the band. The single entered the UK Indie Chart in June 1987, spending thirty-nine weeks in the chart in total, peaking at number three. When re-released in 1989, it entered the UK Singles Chart, where it spent seven weeks, peaking at number 46.
When the single was re-released, the band refused to make a video for their former label, resulting in the label making a video which the band took objection to in January 1990, by trashing the offices of their former label by throwing paint and by throwing it over Paul Birch, as well as destroying several cars. This incident resulted in a court case that saw the band get off with a £6,000 fine and a ban from entering the premises of their former label.
Despite the carnage that followed, 'Sally Cinnamon' is a love song, and a very, very good one. It's not the traditional love song, though, that wouldn't be The Stone Roses' way.
The song's lyrics are very simple, and yet really beautiful.
Until Sally, I was never happy,
I needed so much more,
Rain clouds, oh, they used to chase me,
Down they would pour,
Join my tears,
Allay my fears.
Much more melodic and meaningful than the band's earliest work. It also introduced Stone Roses fans to Reni's backing vocals. This would become a prominent feature on the band's later work.
The final verse of the song provides a little twist, however.
Then I put the letter back in,
The place where it was found,
In the pocket of a jacket,
On a train in town,
Sent to her from heaven,
Sally Cinnamon.
The note that was found was a note from the love interest of another girl. Such a simple yet beautiful song. One of the most profound statements The Stone Roses ever made.
Not only the song on the band's debut album, but also the title of the painting that would become the cover art. Inspired by the May 1968 riots. Featuring a French flag, but also some lemons, which would become a symbol for the band. Why are they, though? Ian Brown explains: “When we were in Paris, we met this 65-year-old man who told us that if you suck a lemon, it cancels out the effects of CS gas. He still thought that the government in France could be overthrown one day; he’d been there in ’68 and everything. So he always carried a lemon with him so he could help out at the front. Sixty-five – what a brilliant attitude.”
The song itself is inspired by the protests. Making direct reference to them. "Choke me, smoke the air, In this citrus-sucking sunshine I don’t, Care you’re not all there." Painting a vivid image of what was going on, but rather than just highlighting the event in a similar way to other protest songs like 'Street Fighting Man'. The Roses declare unequivocal support for the cause of the youthful agitators. "I’m throwing stones at you, man, I want you black and blue and I’m gonna make you bleed, Gonna bring you down to your knees".
There was a desire to rebel; they weren't just showing support. The Roses wanted to challenge the establishment. The album carries subversive themes alongside its Mancunian swagger. ‘Elizabeth, My Dear’, set to the tune of Scarborough Fair, is an anti-Monarchist declaration: "I’ll not rest, till she’s lost her throne, My aim is true, My message is clear, It’s curtains for you, Elizabeth, my dear". A pot-shot is also aimed at our elected representatives, "every member of parliament trips on glue".
The sentiment must have been resonant with the youth of the late-80s and early-90s, particularly amidst the Poll Tax Riots and Tory efforts to criminalise free festivals and rave culture, which culminated in the Criminal Justice Act 1994.
They provided a voice for the young people of Britain, and they still do. There's a reason why so many teenagers end up resonating with this album.
The opening track on one of the most important British albums ever, the track that sees The Stone Roses stake their claim to reshape youth culture in their image. It's one of the boldest statements ever put on record. Opening with the line "I don't have to sell my soul, he's already in me" is certainly one way to open your debut record.
I Wanna Be Adored wasn’t just a song: it was a mission statement. Its slow-building intro, stretching nearly two minutes before Ian Brown’s vocal even appears, showed a level of confidence that most debut albums wouldn’t dare attempt.
Lyrically, its simplicity is its genius. With just a handful of lines, Brown channels both arrogance and vulnerability, turning the desire for adoration into something universal and timeless. It’s not just about rock-star ego: it’s about the raw human craving to be seen, to matter, to be worshipped.
The track’s impact went far beyond its hypnotic groove and iconic opening line. It captured the restless energy of late-80s Britain, giving a voice to a generation disillusioned with Thatcher-era politics but hungry for escape, euphoria, and identity. The Stone Roses bridged the gap between guitar-driven indie rock and the emerging rave culture, creating a blueprint that countless bands would follow.
'I Wanna Be Adored' did not just begin an album; it launched a movement, and for a brief, fleeting moment, it propelled The Stone Roses to be the most important band in Britain.
The track that follows 'I Wanna Be Adored' has impossibly big boots to fill. Not only does 'She Bangs the Drums' come directly after it on this list, but it also takes the same position on The Stone Roses’ debut album. Somehow, though, it rises to the challenge. Buried within its three and a half minutes is what might be the band’s finest lyric, a short, sharp burst of poetry that captures the essence of youth and its boundless belief that anything is possible: “Kiss me where the sun don’t shine / The past was yours, but the future’s mine / You’re all out of time.”
Ian Brown delivered those verses with his usual detached cool, while John Squire contributed the chorus, a line that on paper could be read simply as a love song. But like so much of The Roses’ work, it’s open to interpretation: it could be about a partner, about music itself, about the ecstatic rush of a dancefloor moment. That duality is part of what makes the song so enduring.
What truly lifts She Bangs the Drums into the realm of the timeless is the sound itself. Mani’s bass bubbles and drives beneath the surface, Squire’s guitar rings out bright and clean, and Reni’s drumming cracks with precision and swagger. Together, they create a track that feels both effortless and euphoric. It's a lesson on how to write great guitar pop.
Though the band often bristled at comparisons to the 1960s, She Bangs the Drums has the spirit of that era running through it. It’s jangly, melodic, and immediate, a perfect pop single, yet with a sense of scale and confidence that pointed forward to what British music would become in the next decade.
I feel like I'm going through the band's debut in order at this point. 'Waterfall' is the third track on that brilliant record. A much more psychedelic effort than the previous two efforts, featuring exceptional harmonies from John Squire & Reni. Unlike the previous two efforts, which take little to no time to reach full gear, 'Waterfall' makes fans wait, and the reward more than pays off.
The song really showcases the depth of Squire's guitar playing, as John Robb comments in his brilliant book 'Resurrection of British Pop:
"Waterfall rides in on that burning arpeggio. A spooked figure, it shimmers with that updated psychedelic that the band were now so adept at trading … when the acoustic guitar drops in near the end, it shifts another gear, you sit back and wait for one of those glorious churning endings that the Roses specialised in, but it tantalisingly goes to a fade out.
Waterfall is further evidence of the sheer depth of Squire’s guitar playing. It seems like every trick he has up his sleeve is at play here, from the trademark wah wah to spine-tingling acoustics, the non-macho guitar hero. There is a total sensitivity at play here
Despite its guitar playing, the song has a very folk feel. According to the producer John Leckie, Ian Brown had envisaged a “Byrds/Simon & Garfunkel thing”. When asked what the song was about, Brown said, “about a girl who sees all the bullshit, drops a trip and goes to Dover. She’s tripping, she’s about to get on this boat and she feels free”.
Squire who helped write the lyrics has never fully explained what the song was written about. DJ Pete Mitchell believed that the song was partially about Squire’s loathing of the Americanisation of Britain (see “This American satellite’s won”). Proof? Squire’s own oil on canvas Waterfall (1988) meshes the Union Jack and Stars and Stripes flags. So maybe the lyric is about both. Who knows?
One thing we do know is that it's one of the best Stone Roses songs. It's also the first Stone Roses song I ever fell in love with, and the song that started my musical journey, which has led me to a whole host of weird and wonderful places, including where I am now sitting behind this keyboard writing this post. This song is in the catalogue of my most important songs.
This would be many people's number one pick. However, it only makes number two for me.
Religious imagery and rock stars seem to go hand in hand. In July 1966, John Lennon claimed in an interview with Maureen Cleeve for the Evening Standard.
"Christianity will go. It will vanish and shrink. … We’re more popular than Jesus now; I don’t know which will go first—rock ’n’ roll or Christianity.
A statement which caused uproar in the U.S, and led to Radio stations banning Beatles songs, fans burning records and when the band visited, being threatened with violence.
Twenty-three years later, Ian Brown would proclaim himself as the second coming with sacrilegious arrogance, “I am the resurrection and I am the light“ in an eight-and-a-half-minute epic at the end of their politically charged, optimistic, mood-lifting and perspective-changing debut album
The music supposedly began as “a pisstake” of Paul McCartney’s bass on The Beatles’ Taxman, according to Reni. “Mani would play the riff backwards during soundchecks, and we played along over the top for a laugh. Finally, we said, ‘Let’s do this joke song properly and see what happens’.”
The song is the band's most ambitious effort ever. Kicking off with a pounding four to the floor Motown-esque rhythm from drummer Alan ‘Reni’ Wren and bassist Gary ‘Mani’ Mounfield, the song negotiates three verses before singer Ian Brown makes the grandiose claim that “I am the resurrection and I am the light,” the tension finally released. He also sounds utterly at ease in doing so.
But that’s only phase one. At about 3 minutes and 40 seconds, the song appears to be drawing to a conclusion. And then guitarist John Squire takes over. For the next four-and-a-half minutes, the listener learns several lessons: that the words ‘indie’ and ‘dance’ can indeed go together perfectly well, that Squire is really a very good guitarist and above all, that The Stone Roses, at their best, were near untouchable.
Speaking to NME about the instrumental, Mani revealed: "The end section was recorded in one take by me, John and Reni."
The earliest surviving recording of I Am The Resurrection hails from 30 May 1988, a year before the album came out. The Stone Roses appeared on a bill with fellow Mancunians James, who were performing a benefit at Manchester’s International venue to protest against Clause 28 - the Government’s law banning “promotion” of homosexuality in schools.
Among the crowd were two teenage brothers, Liam and Noel Gallagher—though true to form, they arrived separately. For Liam, just fifteen at the time, seeing Ian Brown command the stage was a revelation, the moment he decided he wanted to be a frontman. For Noel, the gig opened doors into the city’s music scene, eventually leading to his stint as a roadie with Inspiral Carpets. Both would later say that without that show, Oasis might never have existed, cementing the gig as a pivotal point in the story of British rock.
The penultimate song on the band's debut album, and one of the band's most anthemic tracks. It's one of those songs that is just full of optimism, a song on an album that is perfect for weaving into your own circumstances, an endlessly inspiring message of hope and ambition that could only have come from four working-class kids who had been pushed to the margins but clung defiantly to their dreams.
In the context of the album, it often does not get the plaudits it deserves, compared with some of the songs featured earlier on this list, 'I Wanna Be Adored' or 'I Am the Resurrection,' and it really should be. It showcases everything that makes The Roses great: soaring melody, shimmering guitar lines, that steady Reni backbeat, and Brown’s vocal pitched perfectly between vulnerability and swagger.
For many fans, 'This Is the One' has become one of the band’s most personal songs, an anthem of self-belief and transformation. Its refrain feels like both a rallying cry and a prayer, making it as fitting for the terraces at Old Trafford, where it has become a Manchester United walk-out anthem.
Vocalist Ian Brown is a lifelong United supporter. The Observer Sports Monthly asked him how he felt when they started playing this song at Old Trafford. Brown replied: "I wrote that tune in 1986 when I was on the dole, and there was no way I could have known that 20 years later United would be coming on to the pitch to it. It still gets me every time. It's an amazing feeling. I've got three season tickets now in the East Stand, the old K Stand, with my two oldest sons, and they buzz off it. I laugh and say, 'Well, the PRS [Performing Rights Society] is probably paying for the tickets.'"
Beyond its emotional resonance, the song also exemplifies The Stone Roses’ ability to strike a balance between accessibility and artistry. It’s a track that could sit comfortably on a festival main stage or in a quiet bedroom, and it demonstrates the band’s gift for writing songs that feel both immediate and timeless. Even decades after its release, 'This Is the One' stands as a testament to the band’s vision: music that uplifts, unites, and inspires, proving that The Roses were never just a band, but a movement.