Ten Perfect Songs
Calling a song “perfect” doesn't make it the greatest song of all time. It means that the songwriter and the musicians involved have created something beyond improvement. It means the song accomplishes its objective, whether it’s telling a story, evoking emotion, or getting people to dance. Here are 10 perfect songs.
“(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction” (1965); written by Mick Jagger and Keith Richards, performed by The Rolling Stones: The main riff and the word “satisfaction” for this song of longing and disenchantment came to Keith Richards in a dream in a Clearwater, Florida motel room. Bassist Bill Wyman later said that Richards thought the song was “too basic to be much more than a good filler track for the band's next album.” “Satisfaction” delivered the Stones their first number one single in The States.
Richards’ unforgettable fuzz-guitar riff that the song’s built upon hits the listener on a primal level. The lyrics, propelled by a driving, infectious rhythm, speak of alienation, mindless consumerism, and sexual frustration. The opening riff’s buzzsaw sound provides the same adrenaline rush in 2026 that it did in 1965. “Satisfaction” remains the epitome of rock ‘n’ roll.
“Sunday Papers” (1979); written and performed by Joe Jackson: British New Wave musician Joe Jackson played the role of media critic with this song off his debut studio album, Look Sharp! The song's opening lyrics, played over a simple three-chord progression on guitar, sets the tone: “Mother doesn't go out anymore/Just sits at home and rolls her spastic eyes/But every weekend through the door/Come words of wisdom from the world outside.”
There's no need for mother to go out when she gets a seven-section newspaper delivered to her front door every Sunday that tells her everything she needs to know—such vital information as the new sex position, how to get the stains out of a mattress, and which politician is gay. The TV fills in all the blanks: “Mother's wheelchair stays out in the hall/Why should she go out when the TV's on?”
The sneering lyrics are scathing and humorous. The foundation of the song is its reggae/ska-influenced rhythm, with the guitar playing sharp, off-beat upstroke chords that create a Jamaican-style “skank” rhythm that produces a jerky groove.
The arrangement’s tight and economical. The lyrics home in on the passivity the tabloid media can induce. Completing the package is Jackson's vocals dripping with sarcasm. But he keeps it fun by sounding amused and cynical rather than angry. It's musical satire at its finest.
“Pinball Wizard” (1969); written by Pete Townshend, performed by The Who: This is the story of Tommy—a deaf, dumb, and blind pinball genius—as told through the eyes of his pinball rival: “Even at my favorite table/He can beat my best.” It represents the turning point of bandleader Pete Townshend’s rock opera, Tommy. The song opens with Townshend's rapid-fire guitar strumming in one of the most recognizable acoustic guitar intros in rock.
Tommy’s multiple handicaps stem from the childhood trauma of seeing his father killed, but he’s developed otherworldly intuition and sensory powers that have allowed him to master the game of pinball and much more.
As a standalone, “Pinball Wizard” might not make this list. It’s power comes from its placement on side three on the double album Tommy. Earlier songs told stories of sexual abuse and bullying of Tommy by family members and the “Acid Queen,” a female sex predator who doses him with LSD as part of her “cure.” The album could’ve collapsed from the weight of its own darkness, but this song rescues it with its explosive action and a narrative twist. Tommy’s reintroduced as a powerful character who’s mastered an arcade game without the need of sensory input: “That deaf, dumb, and blind kid sure plays a mean pinball.” He's now on the road to becoming a guru.
“Fare Thee Well, Miss Carousel” (1969); written and performed by Townes Van Zandt: An interviewer once asked Townes Van Zandt why most of his songs were sad songs. The laconic, soft-spoken singer/songwriter from Texas replied, “I don't think they're all that sad. I have a few that are a totally hopeless situation.” It's a witty comeback, but one of America’s greatest folk-country songwriters suffered from depression, which seeped into his music, as in these lyrics from “Miss Carousel”: “The drunken clown’s still hanging round/But it’s plain the laughter’s all died down.” That drunken clown is Van Zandt, and that lyric expresses the same sort of weary resignation Danny O’Keefe does in his plaintive “Good Time Charlie's Got The Blues.” “Everybody’s gone away/Said they're moving to L.A./There's not a soul I know around/Everybody's leaving town.” The feeling from both narratives is one of being left behind by the passage of time, with only booze and pills left to kill the pain.
Who Miss Carousel is is anybody's guess, as the lyrics are allegorical. She could be a manipulative woman the narrator has to free himself from before she consumes him. Interpreted more broadly, it's the carousel of the songwriter’s life, which was a cyclical one of addiction, mental illness, and self-destruction. Round and round it goes, always returning to the same dead-end place. The “fare thee well” may be the expression of a desire to get off this toxic circus ride.
The song’s expansive narrative set across six dense, metaphorical verses set it apart from the standard country or folk music of its time.
“The Blower's Daughter” (2001); performed and written by Damien Rice: This song gained acclaim in indie music circles after the 2001 release of the Irish singer/songwriter's debut album, O, and then reached a new audience when it was featured prominently in Mike Nichols’ Closer, in which it reflected the 2004 film’s themes of obsessive love, betrayal, and emotional entanglement. Rice has never offered any clues on what a “blower" is, although there's speculation that it refers to a clarinet player.
The chorus repeats variations of "I can't take my eyes off of you" with soaring vocals sung in a tone indicating it's beyond a carefree fixation on a love interest. It's a song of a love doomed for reasons unknown.
This song gets played at weddings, for the same confused reasons Dolly Parton’s “I Will Always Love You” (a breakup song) does. People fixate on words in the chorus that move them while paying little attention to the story told in the verses.
The song is a showcase for Rice’s vocal prowess. His dynamic range allows him to move from a whisper to a roar. The result is an ability to convey profound emotional weight, as when he sings, of the blower’s daughter, “Can't keep my eyes off of you.” Few songs deliver such raw, stunning emotion.
“The Boys Are Back In Town” (1976); written by Phil Lynott, performed by Thin Lizzy: This infectious hard rock anthem has few equals when it comes to swaggering, streetwise bravado. The “wild-eyed boys” have been away for a while, but they're back in town and they just got paid. Hanging out, “dressed to kill,” at a place called Dino’s, the boys are looking for girl action and fistfights: “The drink will flow and blood will spill/And if the boys want to fight, you better let 'em.”
It's much more believable than listening to Elton John singing, “Saturday Night's Alright For Fighting.” In real life, Elton would run from a bar fight, while Thin Lizzy’s charismatic frontman, Phil Lynott, once jumped off the stage during a performance to punch a disruptive audience member.
This masterpiece is propelled by the driving rhythm of the twin lead guitars, a Thin Lizzy signature. Its energetic, rebellious, and celebratory storytelling give it a cinematic quality.
“You Make Me Feel So Young” (1946); written by Josef Myrow and Mack Gordon, performed by Frank Sinatra: There’s plenty of silly love songs, and Paul McCartney was wrong to think the world needed another one in 1973. But the world will always need good love songs—just hold the saccharine, sentimental slush.
Frank Sinatra was always the guy for that adult task. The saloon singer’s approach to love songs is rooted in sophisticated storytelling. He favored interpretation and emotional depth over the catchy corniness of the likes of McCartney.
Here's a snippet from “Silly Love Song”: “I love you/I love you/I love you/I love you.” Here's one from “You Make Me Feel So Young”: “You make me feel so young/You make me feel so spring has sprung/And every time I see you grin/I'm such a happy individual.”
Good storytelling requires showing over telling. The former Beatle tells us he's in love, as in: “Love doesn't come in a minute/I only know that when I'm in it/It isn't silly.” There's no emotion there. On the other hand, Sinatra shows why he's in love without even using the word “love” once.
“You Make Me Feel So Young” is a swing-era standard. It avoids sappiness with its light, optimistic bounce. The melody’s catchy, and the theme of love as an anti-aging elixir (“And even when I'm old and grey/I'm gonna feel the way I do today”) is relatable across generations. Sinatra communicates his message with brevity and style. Nobody could have sung this song better.
“You'll Never Find Another Love Like Mine”(1976); written by Kenny Gamble and Leon Huff, performed by Lou Rawls: At the heart of the perfection of this classic soul/R&B ballad is Lou Rawl’s elegant, confident, and soulful crooning. There's a swagger in that voice, but the song tells the story of a guy getting dumped: “Whoa, I'm not tryin′ to make you stay, baby/But I know somehow, some day, some way/You're gonna miss my lovin.′” Make no mistake—he is trying to make her stay.
Like “The Blower's Daughter,” this breakup song is also played at weddings, for reasons beyond my comprehension. Regardless, it’s smooth 1970s soul with heart and groove. All the elements line up: Rawls’ rich baritone, the arrangement and the message.
“On Saturday Afternoons In 1963” (1979); written and performed by Ricki Lee Jones: After her first two platinum and gold albums, Jones shifted from commercial pop. As a result, her greatness hasn't received the attention it deserves. Very few singer/songwriters can match her skills in songwriting and singing, and only a handful can switch like she has between jazz, rock, R&B, folk, and electronica. Her eponymous 1979 debut album was an out-of-the-blue revelation carried by its ebullient smash hit—”Chuck E’s In Love.” Still, “Saturday Afternoons” was the album’s gem.
For emotional resonance, this song is nearly unmatched. That resonance is aided by a stripped-down arrangement with piano, vocals, and orchestral strings, giving it a sparse, intimate feel. There's no “production” getting in between the artist and the audience.
The themes are childhood, memory and innocence lost. In a wistful voice, the singer homes in on a specific year to share quiet, intimate memories of friendship, secrets, and magical childhood moments. I have one of those moments. It's of a winter evening at around age 12 when I was outside as the snow fell gently down. It was dark and getting late; I wanted to freeze the moment in time so it would never end.
“Clean Up Woman” (1971); written by Clarence Reid and Willie Clarke, performed by Betty Wright: In this soul/funk single off her second studio album, 17-year-old Betty Wright—singing with maturity, sass, and vocal power—introduces the concept of the “cleanup woman.” When a woman’s taking her man’s love for granted, she's creating a mess. That's the time when the cleanup woman swoops in. As Wright sings: “When he needed love/I was out havin' fun/But I found out that all I had done/Was made it easy for the cleanup woman.”
The song’s a life lesson delivered in under three minutes with the assistance of a tight, funky groove and guitar lick played by Willie "Little Beaver" Hale. It's a cautionary tale from the perspective of a woman who realizes she messed up—"I was slippin' while I was trippin’."
The song has humor, regret, and clearcut storytelling. There's a reason that it's endured as a soul staple, heavily sampled in hip-hop and R&B, and pops up in movies, TV and commercials. The message is focused and delivered with wry humor and an infectious groove, making for pop perfection.