“Tam bo li de say de moi ya!” Do you know what that means? Of course not! Will that stop you from singing along and following up with a joyous “Hey jambo jumbo!” in the middle-eight section of this ecstatic party anthem? The Commodores singer with the voice as smooth as an eel in oil released “All Night Long” in 1983, and it still sounds perfectly crisp. And who cares what all the words mean? Watch Richie’s face light up in the video as he sings, “Fiesta, forever,” and you’ll know exactly what to do. —Sophie Harris.
Behind every great song, a great story. In the case of this 1974 disco essential, legend has it that KC and the Sunshine Band approached young singer McRae (who was about to go back to college) and asked him to sing on a track with his wife because the high notes were too much for the KC crew. McRae’s wife couldn’t make the session, so George sang it on his own, and “Rock Your Baby” went on to sell 11 million copies around the world—none of which you need to know to enjoy the whispered “sexy woman” at the beginning of the song, nor the drum-machine beats, nor those delicious high notes.
—Sophie Harris. When the cha-cha slide and the cotton-eye Joe just weren’t cutting it anymore, Cali Swag District stepped up to the plate and gave the people exactly what they needed: a choreographed dance that wasn’t vomit-inducing. With its minimalist beat and oh-so-fly rhymes, “Teach Me How to Dougie” quickly became a staple of any successful dance party.
Even if the Dougie was just a little too complicated for most people to master, that didn’t stop anybody from proudly screaming, “All my bitches love me / All my all my bitches love me,” and feeling like a player every time the chorus rolled around. —Derek Schwartz. Composed by Minnesota’s Steven Greenberg for his jokily named studio band, Lipps Inc., “Funkytown” expresses a simple, repetitive yearning for the pulse of a bigger city, goosed by a killer ten-note synth riff.
“Gotta make a move to a town that’s right for me,” sings Cynthia Johnson in a robotic, vocoderized voice (a precursor to the Auto-Tune sound) before busting out an unmodified, soulful wail, pleading for a trip to the party destination of her dreams. Released in 1980, “Funkytown” came late to the disco party, but gave it a jolt of electricity. —Adam Feldman. Before Nile Rodgers was bopping around with Daft Punk on “Get Lucky,” he was producing this gem from 1983’s Let’s Dance. Long a favorite on dusty jukeboxes, “Modern Love” has seen a resurgence as of late—its jumpy rhythms make an appearance in Noah Baumbach’s heralded film (and its trailer), Frances Ha. ( The New York Times’ Sunday heartbreak column also shares the song’s name.) There’s a serious propulsion to it—Stevie Ray Vaughan handled guitar duties.
Bowie opens the tune with spoken word before hitting his unmistakable highs, singing of the concept at hand: “Terrifies me / Makes me party / Puts my trust in God and man.” —Colin St. The only thing better than watching the video to this 1984 anthem—yes, starring a very dewy Courteney Cox—is dancing to the song yourself, as you belt out the lyrics with all the passion you can muster: “I ain’t nothin’ but tired / Man, I’m just tired and bored with myself!” “Dancing in the Dark” is also one of the Boss’s sexiest moments. “Hey there baby,” he sighs.
“I could use just a little help.” (Use this to aid your imagination.) Extra points to anyone who knows what that book is that Springsteen’s sittin’ around trying to write. —Sophie Harris.
They may have thrown us off the scent with their greaseballs-in-leather-jackets shtick, but one of the Strokes’ greatest achievements was reminding the world that rock & roll originally functioned as dance music. Few contemporary songs make us yearn for the days of the sock hop more than the single that catapulted these hometown faves into the big time.
Nitpick re: the “American Girl” similarities all you want, but the combination of Julian’s disaffected yowl, Albert and Nick’s chirpy chords, Nikolai’s humble throb and Fab’s unflappable bounce still carries a rare boot-scootin’ charge. —Hank Shteamer. The song that defined an era makes most statements about it seem trite. Those echoing opening chords became as familiar to the MTV generation as Pogs and Hypercolor—with a tad more shelf life. As far as partying goes, what’s in a name? “Teen Spirit” is all about anger and angst. (Kurt Cobain was only 24 at the time of the song’s release; he had a pretty good grasp on youthful malaise.) When you pop this one on at a bash, take a cue from the bros in the video’s gym audience: Bang your head.
The widespread success of the Village People may be the most dramatic example of how gay culture went mainstream in the disco era. Dolled up in costumes that camped on masculine archetypes, the quintet sang paeans to sailors, cops and macho men in lyrics carefully crafted to pass. To those in the know, “Y.M.C.A.” was a coded celebration of cruising hot guys at a public gym. But to the rest—dancing along to the chorus at weddings, vacation resorts and sports events around the world—it’s just a great excuse to shape your body into letters of the alphabet. —Adam Feldman. The Human League’s groundbreaking 1981 album, Dare, helped usher in the age of electropop—and the track most responsible for that paradigm shift was “Don’t You Want Me.” But despite the song’s obvious pleasures—its sauropod-size synth riffs and the chorus’s devastatingly effective vocal hook among them—it’s a bit strange that “Don’t You Want Me” has become one of the world’s most played party tunes: Lyrically, it’s the rather depressing tale of a gal who’s outgrown a guy, and a guy who implies (somewhat disturbingly) that something bad will happen if the gal doesn’t come back. —Bruce Tantum.
The Long Island native born Leslie Wunderman sounds positively voracious on her 1987 signature hit. Few dance-pop classics feel more urgent or fierce than “Tell It to My Heart”; you can see that Dayne’s been waiting her whole life to belt out lines like “Body to body / Soul to soul / Always feel you near.” The lyrics might read like bad sophomore-year poetry, but blend them with unabashedly hammy ’80s synths and a so-passionate-it’s-a-little-scary delivery, and the result is a sonic Roman candle, blasting fireballs of fun onto the dance floor. —Hank Shteamer. Pop-idol pinups they may have been, but the members of Norwegian trio A-ha also made great, genuinely inventive music in their mid-’80s heyday. The jewel in A-ha’s crown, of course, is the dazzling debut single “Take on Me.” This synth-pop gem is chiseled like a diamond, with a perfect keyboard riff and a melody that moves in and out of major keys just as singer Morten Harket’s voice turns from desperate to hopeful and back again.
Add in the trailblazing animated video (which used rotoscoping), and “Take on Me” became indelibly imprinted on the brain of anyone who saw it. —Sophie Harris. Every British invasion arrives with an opening salvo. In the ’60s, it was the unmistakable first chord of “A Hard Day’s Night.” In 1996, it was Melanie “Scary Spice” Brown calling out, “Yo, I’ll tell you what I want / What I really, really want,” and Geri “Ginger Spice” Halliwell responding, “So tell me what you want / What you really, really want.” What followed was three minutes of frenetic dance-pop bliss, with a fierce yet flirty “sisters before misters” message, total world domination, the incredibly useful party icebreaker “Which Spice Girl are you?” and more zigazig-ahs than anyone thought possible. Seventeen years after the invasion, “Wannabe” is still the go-to anthem for many a “girls’ night out” across the globe.
—Michael Chen. Since 1988, this high-powered hip-hop jam from Harlem’s MC Rob Base and his turntable wingman, DJ E-Z Rock, has hyped up countless arenas, nightclubs and pool parties the world over. Its instantly recognizable sample of Lyn Collins’ “Think (About It)” inevitably gets the crowd bouncing and shouting, “Woo! Yeah!” in unison.
Yet it’s the song’s, um, baser innuendos that lift it to the next stratosphere of party-playlist immortality. Because when you step off the dance floor and begin your approach toward that honey you’ve had your eye on all night, you’ll be mighty glad that the object of your affection is still breathlessly humming the refrain, “It takes two to make a thing go right / It takes two to make it out of sight.” Hit it!
—Michael Chen. Pusha T rejecting this massive Hitboy-produced beat might have been for the best (according to him it sounds like a video game) because the star power from the respective husbands of Kim and Bey turned the guaranteed banger into a veritable club anthem. And it's become a necessary party bonding activity, too: trashed guests inevitably screaming 'that shit cray!'
At each other and somehow still mustering riotous laughter in response to that one Will Ferrell Blades of Glory sample (did anyone actually watch that movie?).— Rohan Samarth. Life didn’t imitate, but rather predated, art when Brooklyn rap maestro the Notorious B.I.G. Was gunned down months before the release of his No. 1 smash, “Mo Money Mo Problems.” Brushing aside the bluster, bravado and East-West feudin’ that led to his untimely demise, we choose to focus on this undeniable fact: Big Poppa always got the party poppin’. On “Mo Money Mo Problems,” he is ably assisted by Harlem World rapper Mase and ubiquitous hype man Puff Daddy (in the days before Diddy), but it’s all prologue to Biggie’s verse. And when Poppa implores us, “Throw your rollies in the sky / Wave ’em side to side,” his ability to unite the world under one outrageous all-night bacchanal becomes clear: We all—freaks and geeks, jocks and hipsters, suits and slackers, New Yorkers and Angelenos—know what to do. —Michael Chen.
Even after its short-lived heyday, TNGHT remains one of electronic music's most potent recent matchups. Bass luminary Lunice's club-rattling beats make a viciously ferocious pairing with the recklessly maximalist synth-frenzy of Kanye-affiliated producer Hudson Mohawke. The single which launched them to trap-mainstay-status consists of just a few elements (a looping vocal sample, seismic 808 drums, and a stomping horn riff) but together they can make a party sound undoubtedly enormous.— Rohan Samarth. Few songs are as immediately recognizable as Michael Jackson’s 1983 smash “Beat It.” Those haunting opening synth hits are just dissonant enough to put the listener on edge, baiting them to stay with it, like the entrance music for a professional wrestler.
Then that driving guitar riff comes in like an uppercut to the jaw, followed by MJ's opening line, “They told him don't you ever come around here / Don't wanna see your face, you better disappear.” “Beat It” has a unique aggression that not only triggers those primal, competitive instincts, but also makes you want to dance your ass off and sing at the top of your lungs. When Eddie Van Halen’s solo comes in, feel free to unleash the air-guitar hero that lives within us all. —Derek Schwartz. No song captures the essence of Madonna’s iconography quite like “Express Yourself,” a girl-power pep talk delivered in an amped-up version of funky 1970s soul. Its unprecedentedly lavish video—directed by a pre- Seven David Fincher in an appropriately Expressionist style—embodies Madonna’s defining persona as a fiercely sexual chameleon. One minute she’s the boss lady in a power suit and a monocle, grabbing her crotch like a butcher version of Michael Jackson; the next, she’s crawling on all fours and lapping a bowl of milk. Even when she’s literally in chains, neither the video nor the singer leaves any doubt as to who’s in charge.
—Adam Feldman. This hugely anticipated (not to mention hyped) comeback single from Daft Punk became the summer anthem of 2013. “Get Lucky” finds the French duo switching its modus operandi from referencing classic disco music to actually creating it: The single features (and was cowritten by) Chic star and producer Nile Rodgers, and hip-hop mastermind Pharrell Williams—who, you may be interested to know, heard about the project from Daft Punk at a Madonna party. (Yeah, Pharrell, they asked us, too.) Besides becoming a dance-floor phenom, the song also inspired Durex to produce its own line of “Get Lucky” condoms.
—Sophie Harris. Yeah, yeah, it’s over 50 years old and your grandparents might’ve made out to it.
But good gosh if this isn’t one of the sexiest, wildest songs on this list. It starts out pretty civilized, with that unmistakable keyboard intro, and lickety-split cymbal beats. Then Ray starts singing about lovin’ you all night long with wicked intent, the brass starts up, the backing singers join in, and you have one hot, fine mess. Note 1: Released in 1959, “What’d I Say” is also widely regarded as the first “soul” single. Note 2: The music-making process according to Jerry Wexler of Atlantic Records: “We didn’t know shit about making records, but we were having fun.” Check the here for evidence.
—Sophie Harris. Ah, the sweet ecstasy of raw ’60s soul music, as perfected on this 1962 hit, written and produced by Motown mastermind Berry Gordy. There are so many things to love, from the spoken-word intro—“You broke my heart / ’Cause I couldn’t dance”—to the explosive groove that hits as our narrator shows off his newfound dance-floor destroying skills: “I can mashed potato!
I can do the twist! Now tell me baby, do you like it like this?” You want more? How about a false ending and surprise return? And of course, the song features in Dirty Dancing; “Do You Love Me” is the number that’s playing when. Writhe on, kids! —Sophie Harris. 'Dancing With Myself' was originally written and recorded by Generation X, the punk foursome fronted by Billy Idol, before he remixed and re-released the track as a solo effort in 1981.
It was a smart move, considering nothing is quite so foolproof as a song about dancing alone (From Robyn to Whitney, it's pretty much a power-pop lay-up.) After all, there's not one among us who has not felt the ache of loneliness on the dance floor. Thankfully, with a song as universally beloved as this, it's pretty well guaranteed you'll never fly solo.— Kristen Zwicker. Gwen Stefani dropped her go-to quirky and emo poses on this one, in the process outing herself as a seriously badass dance-floor commando. It didn’t hurt that she got a writing assist from Neptunes’ Pharrell Williams and Chad Hugo, or that the band chose to lead off with a spiffy homage to the ever-deadly “Billie Jean” beat.
You’ll detect snarly guitars, a bangin’ drum fill or two, and other subtle nods to No Doubt’s alt-rock pedigree, but in the end, this is simply an early-aughts update on what the Parliament crew liked to call “uncut funk.” —Hank Shteamer. Pure comedic genius isn’t exactly what comes to mind when thinking about early ’90s rap, but controversy sure is.
90s Greatest Hits Playlist
Sir Mix-a-Lot’s love letter to round behinds was—to the Tipper Gore crowd—super sexual filth. But it’s a subversive, tongue-in-cheek send-up of the hip-hop lifestyle: a black man’s counterpart to Spinal Tap’s “Big Bottom.” It was even prescient: How many “serious” rap videos followed with tight shots of the bottom half of curvy ladies? Most have a favorite line from the cut, Mix-a-Lot’s euphemisms and analogies rolling off the line like the Barbies he laments. “Baby Got Back” was the second best-selling song of 1992.
1 slot went to quite a different display of amorous intentions: Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You.” —Colin St. Everyone who Angela Merkel has loaned money to knows the song, but a look beneath the surface reveals awesomeness on another level.
A German group with the album name World Power? Who uses an exclamation point in their moniker?
“The Power” might be most famous as a snippet in service of jock jams, but the tune is a force: It’s a paranoid, rushing affair, anchored by the appropriately named American emcee Turbo B. His rhymes only take the silver when compared to Jackie Harris’s cries of “I’ve got the power!” Nostalgic, yes, but still alive enough to get the crowd ultra-pumped. Incessant use of the word booty, a driven four-on-the–floor drumbeat and a psychedelic music video featuring divas in neon spandex suits spinning like propellers. It’s no wonder “Pump Up the Jam” became a massive hit in 1989, pretty much kick-starting the mainstream hip-house movement.
Who could resist those insouciant vocals (supposedly uttered by Congolese model Felly Kilingi), littered with slang phrases that you haven’t heard in at least 15 years? Also note: Pump up the jam became a slang term for masturbation in Flemish. The more you know, people. —Derek Schwartz. These days, Robin Thicke is about as beloved as stray sidewalk phlegm, and we can pretty much all agree that the lyrics to and music video for “Blurred Lines” are dumb at best and blatantly misogynistic at worst. Also, the track is a complete rip-off of our #100 party tune, Marvin Gaye’s “Got to Give It Up.” So why a spot on this list?
Despite everything, “Blurred Lines” is one of the catchiest songs of last few years, grudgingly beloved by almost everyone and a must-have for any party playlist. If you can't get past the sexism, try singing along with your own lyrics—“I hate these tan lines, land mines, parking fines,” etc.— Gabrielle Bruney.
For anyone who’s ever relished the delicious longing of a summertime crush (that’s all of you, then), Canadian popstrel Carly Rae Jepsen crowned summer 2012 with this perfect pop anthem. The song inspired parody covers from Justin Bieber (who “discovered” the track), Katy Perry and the U.S. Olympic Swim Team, among about a billion others. Though is Jepsen singing with Jimmy Fallon and the Roots, playing “Call Me Maybe” on kids’ instruments. Physically impossible to watch without smiling.
And that’s a fact. —Sophie Harris. A truly great party has to have drama, and who better to provide this than the Queen of Pop, Madonna.
Indeed, there was drama around “Like a Prayer” even before the single came out in 1989—remember that Pepsi ad campaign? And then there’s the song itself: jags of electric guitar followed by a huge, cavernous drum thwack. A waft of angelic choir singing. Then: “Life is a mystery / Everyone must stand alone / I hear you call my name / And it feels like”—wait for it—“Home.” And lo, the drumbeat kicks in and we’re thrust right into the chorus. “Like a Prayer” is a crazy, outlandish, imaginative, absurd song, which makes its success as a dance-floor filler all the more ridiculous and wonderful.
Add in a dollop of worldwide scandal, objections from the Vatican and the sickest gospel coda ever to feature in a pop song—and you have the greatest party song ever recorded. Ladies and gentlemen, we thank you. —Sophie Harris.