287. "Sultans of Swing" by Dire Straits

Supremo guitar work from Mark Knopfler! The songwriting is almost overshadowed by the guitar excellence, but appreciate how unique this whole song is, from its swift pacing to the sung-spoke vocal ideas to the gentle tone of the whole thing.

Like with "Money For Nothing," this song is again a pretty sharp and silly portrait of musicians, the holiness of their workmanlike toil, and onlookers who fail to take them seriously. I love the humor in Knopfler's lyrics. I think my favorite details are in the closing of the song, where a member of the band performs that most humble and pathetic duty of all obscure bands, rushing over to the mic and announcing the band's name one more time before the lights come on:

"Goodnight, now it's time to go home
And he makes it fast with one more thing

We are the Sultans
We are the Sultans of Swing"

286. "Suffragette City" by David Bowie

Of all David Bowie songs, it's "Suffragette City" I wish I could walk into some beat-up New York City club in the '70s and happen to see Bowie in all regalia, up on a swarmed, sweaty stage performing with all his heart.

There is so much life in this wacked-out rock number. The verses turn around the best little laconic line, "hey man," and then elaborate with such uncommon phrasing. In the choruses, there is this primal guitar unleashed, with again a supremely weird vocal phrase.

In a live setting (not some arena or other modern atrocity of a venue, but in a primary environment for music), I can sense the electricity of the crowd as the song hits its gear around the two-chord snarl, Bowie leading the congregation with the mantra "suffragette city." If the frenzy wasn't pervasive, then wait for build and the break, the gutsy "wham, bam, thank you, ma'am," and it would be there. That scraping re-entry of sawtooth guitar is all the promise of music in a fully earned moment, there in a time, created by one of time's masters.

285. "Stuck With You" by Huey Lewis and the News

You need to have lived through 1986.

284. "Streets of Philadelphia" by Bruce Springsteen

I think most people associate Springsteen with these titanic songs, a massive wall of instruments. And my favorite Bruce Springsteen song is this little thing he did for that near-forgotten film Philadelphia.

The melody lines are written for exhaustion, capturing the speech rhythm of someone who must keep gathering their breath to keep talking. In the music video, he sings the vocal live, getting the words out while wandering the city. When I was 14, seeing this, I don't know if I'd ever heard someone so carefully shape the sound and singing of lyrics to their content. The effect has remained with me ever since.

283. "Stairway to Heaven" by Led Zeppelin

I slowdanced to "Stairway to Heaven."

Classic rock radio was the only station in my high school car. "Stairway to Heaven" visited my days often.

I road tripped listening to "Stairway to Heaven," both the original and symphonic.

I spent an entire night with my best friend deciphering the lyrics of "Stairway to Heaven" by ear. (We were so wrong.)

I don't care to learn classic guitar licks, but I can play "Stairway to Heaven."

Wayne will never get to play "Stairway to Heaven" in the guitar shop.

No film I've seen has "Stairway to Heaven" in the soundtrack.

I heard "Stairway to Heaven" cranked on my best friend's dad's souped-up stereo, which is kind of like putting it under a microscope. I was young and absorbed by the ghost notes on John Bonham's snare.

I saw Page & Plant in 1998, lost my mind, and the highlight was still watching Jimmy Page play just a measure of "Stairway to Heaven" as the ending of "Babe I'm Gonna Leave You."

I've heard "Stairway to Heaven" hundreds and hundreds of times. And I've heard "Stairway to Heaven" backwards more than anyone probably should.

Epic rock songs are in A-minor.

Epic rock songs start quiet.

Epic rock songs have the drums enter later.

Epic rock songs don't repeat, they one-up themselves.

Epic rock songs climax with a guitar solo.

Epic rock songs aren't crowned, they are played.

Epic rock songs are Eight. Minutes. Long.

Finite space of vinyl be damned. In fact, all the more reason.

Take heart: The forests will echo with laughter.