Flashback: Ranking 1991's best songs 30 years later

The year was a banner one for Lenny Kravitz, who built off of the initial college rock success of his debut and it’s flower-power anthem “Let Love Rule” by branching out in all the directions.

He actually began 1991 with a share of the top spot on the Hot 100 thanks to his production and songwriting credits on Madonna’s controversial chart-topper “Justify My Love.” Then he nearly scaled to the pop chart’s highest peak on his own, taking the soulful “It Ain’t Over ‘Til It’s Over” all the way to #2...

In between, he released this rip-roaring slice of down-home funk peppered with bits of wisdom gleaned from his mom, a track that informed the title of his album – Mama Said.

The secret ingredient though that spices this cut up is the presence of Guns N’ Roses axeman Slash, who co-wrote the tune and plays lead guitar throughout, letting loose in a way that Axl Rose never would have allowed at the time.

You could argue that no one in rock history channeled Pink Floyd as well as the Bellevue, Washington, quintet Queensrÿche did on their biggest hit. And it was one of the more unlikely smashes of the year for a number of reasons.

First, it runs nearly six minutes long, and the band didn’t offer radio stations or MTV any type of edited version. So it was all or nothing for programmers who wanted to give this one a spin.

Second, it's a soaring power ballad about... lucid dreaming? Lead guitarist Chris DeGarmo wrote the song to help his kid get over nightmares. But once his whole band got ahold of it, the light acoustic tune became a grand affair awash with lush string arrangements and Geoff Tate’s powerful vocals soaring above the din...

Listeners responded, sending the song into the top 10 for the band’s only appearance in the pop chart’s upper tier.

It pushed its parent album Empire to triple-platinum status, reached #9 on the Hot 100, and it’s the only top 10 hit in history to prominently sample bits of dialogue from the Clive Barker horror classic “Hellbound: Hellraiser II.” (There’s a few lines but most notably the “help me” that sits front and center as the song moves into the final verse.)

1991’s David Lee Roth Memorial Sh*t-Eatingest Pop Star of the Year Award goes to the Latino rapper who helped introduce the term “Spanglish” to the pop culture lexicon. The musical revolution led by Ricky Martin, J-Lo, Marc Anthony and Santana was still eight years away, making Gerardo truly ahead of his time.

If only he had used his boundary-breaking smash for more than just furthering his “love ‘em and leave ‘em” persona. Still, he crashed the top 10 with this boastful banger full of single-entendres that might fall flat in anyone else’s hands. Gerardo though has enough charisma to push his lyrics into the “so bad they’re good” category, and he had the sex symbol looks to at least give credibility to his self-advanced gigolo reputation...

If it was simply “Rich And Smooth,” it could be a beer or a delectable slab of cake, but make it bilingual and suddenly it’s a #7 smash.

While there won’t be a lot of pure pop music on this list, it doesn’t mean there wasn’t any in 1991. Pop had a solid year, especially the women, behind the continued success of Wilson Phillips’s debut, the popular crossover effort from Amy Grant, and a hotly-anticipated, hit-packed new set from Paula Abdul.

But with so many styles of music offering up quality tunes jockeying for position on this list, all those wonderful ladies will just have to accept that my list will have just one torch-bearer, and that has to be the record-setting singer-songwriter who was in the midst of a meteoric rise to a place of dominance that would last the entire decade...

Mariah Carey’s self-titled debut had already sent its first two singles to #1 the year before: the sultry “Vison Of Love” and the sad but hopeful “Love Takes Time.” But Carey hadn’t given the people something to dance to yet. That all changed when the LP’s third single made its way up the charts.

Co-written by Carey with Ben Margulies just like her previous two smashes, her first up-tempo hit was focused on bettering oneself in the wake of a breakup, mastering the route from “dumped” to “the one that got away.” It quickly became her third straight #1. In fact, Carey is the only artist in Hot 100 history to begin her career with five straight chart-toppers, and she lets those previous suitors know what they've been missing on this one.

Originally selected as a charter member of New Kids On The Block alongside his brother Donnie, Mark Wahlberg had other aspirations. The Bostoner wanted to do music that was a little bit harder-edged than NKOTB’s boy band pop.

Mark Wahlberg wanted to rap.

To that end, he put together a posse to help him achieve his dreams. But make no mistake. While Scott Gee, DJ-T, Ashey Ace and The Booty Inspector had his back, Mark planned to be Front. And. Center.

Hence, Marky Mark & The Funky Bunch was born...

And they might have been little more than a footnote had they not released an absolute banger in the fall of 1991. Brother Donnie’s good friend MC Spice The Legend built so prominently around a sample of Loleatta Holloway’s dance-club smash “Love Sensation” that she was given a featured credit and appeared in the music video. But Holloway’s siren song was absolutely essential to turning Marky Mark’s first impression into a chart-topper.

Long before he was pulling down a multi-million dollar paycheck for his acting abilities, Mark Wahlberg made one indelible imprint on the music industry, ensuring that his days as a buff rapper hawking Calvin Klein underwear will never be forgotten so long as there’s a dance floor that needs packing.

Yeah. Can you feel it, baby? I can, too.

While it never made much of a dent here in America, the “shoegaze” movement was alive and raging in the UK in the early 90s, and my favorite band to emerge from it is the London quartet fronted by Miki Berenyi.

For the uninitiated, shoegaze is generally characterized by its penchant for impenetrable walls of sound, achieved with loads of distortion and feedback mixed with vocals that are buried in the mix more than the listener might be accustomed to.

But while most vocalists would try to punch through the mix, Berenyi’s ethereal tones tended to float somehow above the grand noise created by her band Lush, particularly on the song that hit U.S. shores in late 1990.

Lush’s M.O. in their homeland was to release a series of singles rather than full albums. But those singles got compiled onto one master LP, titled Gala, for the U.S. And the set’s first single in America made its mark on college radio and the burgeoning alt-rock radio format by showcasing all the things Lush did best.

The Grammy award for Best New Artist is famously more of a curse than a harbinger of a successful career. To put it mildly, the recording academy frequently bets on the wrong horse.

But few times has there been an upset as great as the one scored by Cleveland-based singer/songwriter Marc Cohn.

Cohn was a 31-year-old newcomer when he released his self-titled debut and scored his only hit right out the gate with a song about a pilgrimage he took in 1985 to overcome a crippling bout of writer’s block. His stops at the church where soul singer-turned-pastor Rev. Al Green held court, Elvis Presley’s former residence Graceland, and Robinsonville, Mississippi’s Hollywood Cafè were all chronicled in the tune that also alluded to the Jewish Cohn’s longtime love of gospel music...

While he lost out in the Song of the Year category, Cohn bested a murderer’s row of competitors that either boasted bigger current hits (C+C Music Factory, Color Me Badd) or went on to better career longevity (Boyz II Men, Seal) on the strength of one great tune.

A #13 hit on the Hot 100, it fueled one of the most surprising Grammy wins in history, with Cohn turning a stroll through one of the birthplaces of rock and roll into a stroll to the Grammy podium.

After a brief detour for his first solo set Full Moon Fever in 1989 – one that offered up gems like “I Won’t Back Down” and “Running Down A Dream” and the impeccable “Free Fallin’” – Tom Petty welcomed his band back for their 8th group effort, Into The Great Wide Open.

As he did on Full Moon Fever, Petty sought out his bandmate from his supergroup side-project The Traveling Wilburys, Electric Light Orchestra frontman Jeff Lynne, to cowrite most of the songs on the album, and they dropped two instant classics – one musical, one visual...

The visual masterpiece of the album was the music video for the title track, which chronicled the fictional rise and fall of a would-be rocker that could have represented any number of crash-and-burn tales in pop music history. The video featured Johnny Depp as Eddie, the “rebel without a clue” Petty sings about, and the supporting cast was just as star-studded.

But the standout song is the album’s first single, a simple song about the uncertainty of living your life and the importance of growing as you go along.

It’s the kind of no-frills cut that Petty made a career out of and made look effortless but that no one else could quite duplicate.

When the year opened, it had been four years since Irish rock darlings U2 broke through to become the biggest band in the world with their opus The Joshua Tree and its bevy of hit singles. In that time, they had produced the concert/documentary film Rattle And Hum, complete with a companion album that paid tribute to the American roots rock that had informed their own work, but they also took some time off to examine where the outfit might be headed.

Bono, The Edge, Adam Clayton and Larry Mullen Jr. came to the conclusion, perhaps rightfully so, that they had taken the tried-and-true “U2 formula” to its apex with their work on The Joshua Tree. They needed a new direction.

So they stuck their foot in the ground and actively decided to pivot onto a new path. It was a path that became increasingly reliant on electronics with each subsequent album as they explored the increasing fakeness of pop music. And in some ways they would come to embody that which they were examining.

But the start of this journey was exhilarating...

Released in 1991, the band’s seventh album Achtung Baby was fresh and exciting, incorporating new elements into U2’s sound but blending them perfectly with what came before. And its arrival was heralded by an abrasive first single that shocked fans into paying attention to what the Dubliners had in store.

Achtung Baby would offer up bigger hits the following year, but this first glimpse at the band's new direction was an eye-opener.

It all started with a guitar trick Angus Young was showing his bandmates. It ended up as one of the greatest riffs of all time.

Australian hard rockers AC/DC were positively dinosaurs by pop music standards by the time the 1990s rolled around. But somehow, 12 albums deep into a Hall of Fame career, they rejuvenated themselves on their late-1990 release The Razors Edge.

The album’s second single, “Moneytalks,” became their biggest hit in America, but the first single from the set became an immediate stadium-rocking anthem...

An intricate-sounding guitar lick, Angus Young played the intro one-handed, without even picking the strings. Then the rest of the band came crashing in, appropriately, like a thunderclap.

Brian Johnson’s inimitable scream-singing fits the package perfectly once he starts in, and by the time the chorus hits, a frenzy has well-and-truly been whipped up.

By the late 80s and early 90s, rock music, once the purview of the young, had been around long enough that its earliest adopters were reaching middle age. And the subject matter began to age with it.

We saw this back at #33 on Tom Petty’s “Learning To Fly,” but the introspection that comes with aging reached another level when one of rock’s all-time great wordsmiths entered the fray.

Ever since his days with The Police, Sting had been making intelligent rock. He had never been afraid to show off his big vocabulary or drop a literary reference. So it stands to reason that of all the aging rockers, he had the most potential to give music fans something hearty to chew on lyrically and tonally.

He did just that and more on his third solo album, 1991’s The Soul Cages...

In the crowded marketplace of the ’91 music scene, Sting only managed to pull one hit from the set, but it certainly elevated the level of discourse at pop radio when it dropped as the lead single, delving into the feelings and grief Sting felt after his father’s death and reconciling them with his faith by telling the story of a boy who defies the church’s wishes by burying his father at sea.

Heady stuff, but as usual, Sting tempers the morbidity with a light-hearted backing track and a comedic turn in the song’s music video, mugging his way through a Marx Brothers-inspired clip in an increasingly crowded room on a small boat.

With rock comes excess. It has always been so since the earliest days of Elvis Presley. And in every generation, there’s a band who embodies that excess. In 1988, thanks to their wildly successful debut Appetite For Destruction, Guns N’ Roses seized that mantle and held tight until singer Axl Rose drove away every one of the group’s founding members and, in doing so, stripped GNR’s magic from it.

But in 1991, the group was still in the throes of its grandeur, and what better way to cement their place as the most over-the-top act in rock than to release a double album. That had always been the grandest statement a band could make – that one album alone could not contain the wealth of groundbreaking music they had to offer.

But taking it a step further, Guns N’ Roses chose to release their magnum opus as two separate albums, released on the same day. Use Your Illusion I and Use Your Illusion II pulled off a historic feat, entering the Billboard album chart simultaneously at #1 and #2. And they released two wildly different singles to promote it...

Use Your Illusion II was bolstered by the rollicking rocker “You Could Be Mine,” which doubled as the theme song to the summer blockbuster Terminator 2: Judgment Day. But it was the lead single from Use Your Illusion I that hinted at the new heights GNR was capable of hitting.

Cowritten with Rose by guitarist Izzy Stradlin in 1985 about a particularly painful breakup and released as a single shortly before Stradlin’s exit from the band, the song was the first true power ballad released as a single by GNR, and it became their fifth top 10 hit on the Hot 100, bolstered by backing vocals by future Blind Melon frontman Shannon Hoon and a wildly-expensive and impenetrable video that MTV played until the tape gave out.

British impresarios Bill Drummond and Jimmy Cauty had been recording club bangers for years in England by 1991, releasing several big hits on that side of the pond under different names. They went by the Justified Ancients Of Mu Mu, the shortened JAMs, and for their Doctor Who-referencing UK chart-topper “Doctorin’ The Tardis,” they even went by The Timelords.

But in the early 90s they finally settled on The KLF, an acronym that was given various meanings over the years, none of which were ever fully confirmed. They released a long-awaited project called The White Room, originally slated to be the soundtrack of a film of the same name that was to star Drummond and Cauty, and it helped them finally achieve a breakthrough in the U.S...

Opening with a foreign-sounding radio transmission and a blast of machine-gun fire, The KLF truly come in guns blazing as they launch into an acid house rave-up that sounds like it was recorded live at a stadium show, with crowds screaming their approval throughout.

Going top 10 in countries all over the world, including hitting #5 on the American Hot 100, the track would actually serve as the epitaph on Drummond and Cauty’s partnership. They would retire The KLF, under any name, the following year. But as the title alludes to, they live on forever on this relentless track.

Sometimes songs don’t have to be overcomplicated to be absolutely flawless. Such is the case with possibly the most perfectly-crafted pop song of 1991, an ode to unrequited love that runs less than three minutes and includes just four instances of the same chorus and a bridge over a bed of jangly guitar.

Originally written by Lee Mavers and released independently in 1988 by his band The La’s, it was re-recorded in 1990 as the centerpiece of the band’s one and only album. Its success in the UK foreshadowed the coming of Britpop just a few years later, a phenomenon that The La’s were no longer around to enjoy the fruits of...

Here in America, the song was an alt-rock darling and got some MTV attention, but wouldn’t become a true hit until a decade later, when it was covered by Sixpence None The Richer. But the original is still truly where it’s at for me.

In 1990, Vanilla Ice broke the glass ceiling when it came to rap songs topping the Hot 100 with “Ice Ice Baby.” The first rapper to walk through the open door after Ice was Marky Mark with “Good Vibrations.”

So it wasn’t until the charmed third try that a Black hip-hop group finally pushed a rap single to #1, and even then it took a complete change in the chart methodology.

In 1991, Billboard stopped relying on hand-written sales counts and the honor code of store owners to log music sales across the country and switched over to Soundscan, a company that logged the exact number of bar codes scanned at registers across the country to give an accurate view of what was popular. The first week the new system was in place, lo and behold, a Black rap group shot to the top...

That group was the peace-and-love duo of P.M. Dawn, the duo made up of New Jersey brothers Prince Be and DJ Minutemix. To say they were one-of-a-kind in the world of early 90s rap might be an understatement, with their hippie trappings and mellow sound. Their breakthrough single relied heavily on the early-80s stylings of the New Romantic movement, specifically Spandau Ballet’s easygoing hit “True.”

But the stew created by the breakbeats layered over that smooth guitar lick and Prince Be’s multi-tracked harmonies proved irresistible, and they would go on to have a continued presence on the pop chart until the middle of the decade.

One surefire way to score a hit song is to give the people what they want. And in 1991, what they wanted was… Gregorian chants they could dance to?

Question everything you know about a hit song because that’s exactly what Michael Cretu a.k.a. Curly MC, the man behind the act known as Enigma, delivered to an unsuspecting populace, and as unconventional as it seemed, something about it just worked.

Sampling vocals from a 1976 German album called Paschale Mysterium, Cretu laid Gregorian chants atop a house beat, then added some other flourishes – a stabbing guitar lick here, whispered vocals by his then-wife there, some lyrics that reference the famously-controversial sexual proclivities of the Marquis de Sade – and created one of the most haunting and out-of-left-field hits of all time...

The song topped the charts in 14 countries, hitting #1 on the dance chart here in America and crossing over to hit #5 on the Hot 100 before making its way into all sorts of appearances on TV shows and movies and anchoring the brisk sales of late-90s new age compilation album Pure Moods.

Obviously Enigma was ahead of the curve considering three years later, the Benedictine Monks of Santo Domingo de Silos would scale to the upper reaches of the album chart with Chant, an entire album of Gregorian chanting.

And... it's excellent for dancing.

Already an in-demand remix team, producers Robert Clivillés and David Cole had the idea to create a musical anthology project, a group with interchangeable parts where they remained the only constant from album to album, an endless conveyor belt churning out hit records.

A music factory, if you will.

They also thought they had something special in a recording studio assistant they met, one with an amazing deep, rich speaking voice that they thought would sound great over their beats. They started featuring Freedom Williams rapping on remixes by other artists and confirmed their beliefs.

They made one major misstep though. Paying singer Martha Wash a standard demo fee for laying down vocals on a track they thought could be a winner, they later realized no one else could sing the hook the way she could. So they kept that track in place as is… without paying her for actually appearing on their album...

Then, to make matters worse, they had the singer they actually contracted to be in the group, Zelma Davis, lip-sync over Wash’s vocals in their music video. In didn’t help the appearance of shady dealings that Davis was svelte with supermodel looks and Wash was older with a heavier frame.

Wash had her day in court though and eventually collected her royalties from Clivillés and Cole (as well as German dance outfit Black Box for the same reason), and all’s well that ends well.

The song itself is an undeniable dance-floor anthem, and from the opening lines, it’s easy to see why they opted to keep Wash on the track. The song was an out-the-gate smash, shooting to #1 and opening the door for a year’s worth of hits from C+C Music Factory’s multi-platinum debut of the same name.

Just make sure you stay hydrated when this one comes on.

Already two albums into their career, Boston rockers Extreme had failed to gain much traction outside of their hometown, and the first two singles from their second LP, Extreme II: Pornograffiti, hadn’t done much to attract attention.

So they shifted down, doing a full 180 from those first two offerings to radio – “Decadence Dance” and “Get The Funk Out” – and tried something completely different.

When recording the album, they were sure that the record label would want to add a bunch of hard rock bells and whistles to a song singer Gary Cherone and guitarist Nuno Bettencourt wrote while sitting together on a porch, but to their surprise, they left the delicate ballad as is. Just Bettencourt on acoustic guitar while he sang backing vocals behind Cherone’s lead.

That combination was all they would need to finally earn their breakthrough...

The video for the single, a simple black and white performance clip shot in a practice space, was a stark contrast to the flash and sizzle usually prevalent on MTV, but sometimes it works out that a good song is all you need, and the tandem harmonies of Cherone and Bettencourt fit together so perfectly as to make the song sweet and irresistible enough to fuel thousands of wedding dances.

In the world of comic book collecting, there’s nothing more valuable than a “first appearance” issue, a book that introduces the world to a pivotal character. If music were valued the same way, my next entry would be one of the most sought-after of the 90s.

After his success in New Edition and Bell Biv DeVoe, Michael Bivins decided to branch out into the role of music mogul. It’s a role Sean “Puffy” “Puff Daddy” “P. Diddy” Combs would later perfect at Bad Boy Records, but Bivins came out swinging for sure with a stable of producers and artists that, in 1991, looked poised to take over the world.

The first act out the gate under his East Coast Family umbrella was a group of Atlanta kids who he hoped could take the same winning formula that shot him to stardom in New Edition and run with it, though he wanted to put a hip-hop spin on the affair.

Dubbed Another Bad Creation, the youngsters were a success right from the jump with a catchy schoolyard love song that sent them into the top 10 and helped drive platinum sales of their LP, Coolin’ At The Playground Ya Know!

But once you learn the pedigree behind it, it all makes sense...

The hit was the first in a long line from then 21-year-old production wunderkind Dallas Austin. Austin would stack successes on top of the foundation he built with ABC, later helping TLC top the chart multiple times, as well as the other band in Bivins’s stable that was on the cusp of their debut.

If the backing vocals sound familiar in the chorus, it’s because it’s none of than the group that would become one of the most successful of the decade, another batch of Bivins proteges who would help Dallas Austin make his name as well – Boyz II Men.

That’s a lot of young talent in one place at the same time, so it’s no wonder that this adolescent ode to a playground crush brought Another Bad Creation success beyond their years.

The early 90s were a time of optimism. A wave of patriotism was washing over the U.S. due to the nationalistic support of the Desert Storm initiative of early 1991, so much so that Whitney Houston’s version of the “Star Spangled Banner” at that year’s Super Bowl became a top 20 hit and Lee Greenwood’s “God Bless The U.S.A.” made the first of a few comebacks.

There were international good vibes, too, with the aftershocks of the tumbling of the Berlin Wall and the ending of the Cold War affecting people worldwide. This too had an effect on music, most notably with Germany’s Scorpions scoring their biggest hit with “Wind Of Change.”

But that’s not the song I’m here to talk about...

In early 1990, the Madchester outfit known as Jesus Jones played a show in Romania. Ceausescu had just been overthrown and Perestroika was in full bloom across the U.S.S.R. Singer Mike Edwards was inspired by Prince’s heady hit “Sign ‘O’ The Times” to write his own big-picture anthem about world change.

Released as the first single from their second album, Doubt, it touched a nerve with audiences over the globe. Here in the States, it climbed all the way to #2, where it stalled out behind a mushy Bryan Adams tribute to historical English archers with oddly American accents.

It’s hard to quantify for the generations that have simply grown up with the television institution known as The Simpsons just how subversive and radical the animated sitcom was when it first hit the airwaves in 1990. Its irreverence, with son Bart dropping “eat my shorts” as a catchphrase, became a go-to pulpit-pounding talking point for “family values” politicians.

But the “dangerous” air of the show (and its parent network, the then-upstart FOX) also made it an absolute marketing phenomenon. Simpsons merchandise was everywhere just a few months after the Tracey Ullman Show-spinoff made its debut.

That financial bonanza didn’t stop at t-shirts and posters. The Simpsons recorded an album.

Featuring the voices of the show’s animated family, the collection of 10 songs spanning a variety of genres was surprisingly one of the year’s biggest sellers, selling two million copies and reaching #3 on the Billboard album chart. But it might not have done such big business if not for its leadoff track going as nuclear as the plant where Homer Simpson works...

On a song that was heavily rumored at the time to be ghost-written by Michael Jackson – it wasn’t but Jackson did provide uncredited backing vocals on the tune actually penned by his friend Bryan Loren – the show’s breakout star Bart spent five minutes rapping about his fictional self and the fictional dance he is supposed to have created.

The song didn’t chart on the Hot 100 because of Billboard rules that said songs had to be released as a physical single. Geffen Records held it back to sell more copies of the album (a ploy that apparently worked) but we have some benchmarks for how it might have done.

The video hit the top of MTV’s countdown for two weeks. The song hit the top of the pop chart in the UK. And the American publication Radio & Records, whose own rival hit list didn’t have the “physical single” rule but did more heavily weight radio airplay saw the track crack the top 10.

I have no doubt it would have been crowned without the Hot 100 prohibition in place, but regardless I’m giving it its due here.

As has been well-documented in the annals of pop music history, a groundswell movement was afoot in 1991, slowly building throughout the year for an explosion that would occur as the year came to an end. More on that explosion later, but the seeds of “grunge,” a generic catch-all term that was given to a cadre of bands from the Seattle music scene, were being sown all year long.

In the summer of 1991, the debut album by a five-piece called Pearl Jam dropped to little fanfare. It may have been destined to live on as a little-heard masterpiece, but dogged determination from the band, Epic Records, and the aforementioned grunge explosion would see that album, Ten, explode the following year...

But it was in 1991 that the lead single dropped to rock radio. A fitting opening volley from what would become a Hall of Fame quintet, the bluesy groove laid down by bassist Jeff Ament and the twin guitar attack of Stone Gossard and Mike McCready proved the perfect setting for singer Eddie Vedder’s rangey delivery, sometimes a low growl, sometimes a yowling scream, always transfixing as he relayed the story of a man working through memories of abuse as a boy.

It was the first in a long line of tales about damaged individuals, topics that set Pearl Jam apart from the masses and gave the band a weight that most of the Sunset Strip crowd that was all the rage at the time couldn’t manage.

The Black Crowes, the Marietta-based blues rock quintet fronted by brothers Chris and Rich Robinson, had one of 1990’s most celebrated and popular debut albums with Shake Your Money Maker, even without the benefit of any true hit singles.
But that changed in 1991 as they started to find their footing in the mainstream...

A big reason was their ode to a girl they knew with a heroin addiction. Starting with just Rich’s acoustic guitar backing Chris’s vocal line, the song later explodes into a gospel-tinged full band power ballad.

It had a gravity to it unlike anything else at the time, and it offered a stark counterpoint to the album’s other big hit, a faithful and boisterous cover of Otis Redding’s “Hard To Handle.”

A top 30 hit and one of the year's most memorable songs.

When Treach, Vin Rock, and DJ Kay Gee, the New Jersey hip hop trio known as Naughty By Nature, married a sample of The Jackson Five's "ABC" with lyrics glorifying infidelity, a bit of magic happened.

The tune celebrating the joy of hooking up with "other people's property" became a top 10 hit at a time when rap was making inroads but was still a bit of an oddity in the chart’s upper reaches...

At the same time, it launched the career of one of the biggest groups in early 90s hip hop, but the real coup? Naughty By Nature made it OK for scores of club-goers to say the quiet part loud when they shouted the chorus to this one.

Hailing from the same extremely fertile Madchester music scene that produced fellow international successes Jesus Jones and Happy Mondays, the Epsom Mad Funkers, abbreviated as EMF, scored one massive worldwide hit in 1991.

And they got an unwitting assist from one of America’s most controversial stand-up comics...

Andrew “Dice” Clay was in the center of the zeitgeist at the time, having earned scores of fans and scorn from critics, conservative politicians, and women’s groups in equal measure for his profane and misogynistic act. But whether you loved him or hated him, there was no denying you were familiar with his catchphrase. Well… not so much a phrase as a sound.

“OHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!”

Dice punctuated his obscene fairy tales and cable-ready dirty jokes with the sound, steeped in his thick New Jersey accent. And it caught the ears of five Brits who sampled it to use as their own bit of punctuation to the chorus of a very danceable breakup track and a summertime #1 hit.

While they may have hailed from Los Angeles, the four-man rock outfit known as Jane’s Addiction didn’t have much in common with their contemporaries in the L.A. scene, apart from perhaps a little bit of their fashion sense.

Perry Farrell’s unique sensibilities made sure of that.

Farrell’s high vocal register was a good match for the trippy atmospheric grooves his bandmates laid down over the course of two studio efforts, but by 1991, tensions were running high in the band, and they set out with a traveling menagerie of a festival as their farewell tour in support of second album Ritual De Lo Habitual, birthing Lollapalooza in the process...

The irony was that they were breaking up just as they were experiencing their greatest success.

The closest thing the band had to a crossover hit came in the spring of 1991 when their alt-rock radio #1 hit began a crossover campaign that put the band front and center on MTV with the catchiest ode to shoplifting you'll ever hear.

One of the most distinctive sounds in 1990s rock was the wondrous caterwaul created with Layne Staley’s voice meshed with Jerry Cantrell’s. The harmonies produced by the lead singer and lead guitarist/chief songwriter of Seattle metal band Alice In Chains would prove incredibly influential, though no one has truly managed to duplicate their unique sound since Staley’s untimely death of a heroin overdose

In 1991, AIC was still touring in support of their major label debut from the previous year, Facelift, and had no idea they were soon to be swept up into the maelstrom of the “grunge” moniker as one of the four pillars of Seattle’s rock hierarchy. What they did know is that they sounded like no one else. Alice In Chains, from the very first note of their debut, was one of one...

Their greatness was right there on display on their firey first single, even if they had to wait for the public at large to catch up. As for the song, it focused on censorship and how important it is to gain your own perspective on the world around you instead of having it spoon-fed to you.

It wouldn't be long before no one would put Alice In Chains in a box ever again.

In 1988, Will Smith (a.k.a. The Fresh Prince) experienced a major breakthrough in his career as a rapper, sending two hit songs – “Parents Just Don’t Understand” and “A Nightmare On My Street” – into the Billboard top 20 and showcasing a unique charisma and flair for comedy in his music videos.

Two years later, he was breaking through again using the same skills, this time as an actor anchoring his own TV sitcom. The Fresh Prince Of Bel Air was an immediate hit on NBC, and it launched Will Smith into another level of fame. He would keep leveling up throughout the 90s with roles in blockbuster movies like Men In Black and Independence Day. But even in those early days of getting a hit TV show off the ground, he never turned his back on his rap career, or his musical partner.

D.J. Jazzy Jeff even got a recurring role on the show as Will’s troublesome friend Jazz, but in between stints getting tossed out of the Banks house by Uncle Phil, he was in the lab making beats for their next album. And the one he unleashed in the summer of 1991 proved to be an all-time classic...

Utilizing a sample of Kool & The Gang’s “Summer Madness,” Jeff created a perfect backdrop for Smith to paint a canvas filled with all the trappings of an ideal summer day in his ‘hood back in Philadelphia. Family reunions, cookouts, cruising in the afternoon, pickup basketball games… they all get a shoutout in the song that would become their biggest hit as a credited duo*, reaching #4 on the Hot 100.

*As “Will Smith” he would eventually grab his first #1 hit on “Gettin’ Jiggy Wit It,” a song with a beat engineered by his longtime partner in crime.

Don’t speed through. Let everybody see you jamming to this one as Jeff and The Prince cool us all down.

After the success of their 1989 album Mother’s Milk and the cover of Stevie Wonder’s “Higher Ground” that put them all over MTV, the wild, uninhibited four-piece with the wordy moniker Red Hot Chili Peppers looked to have come through some very dark times in the mid-80s and were poised for a raised profile with their fifth album Blood Sugar Sex Magik. They were not prepared for just how much popularity was headed their way.

The album would go on to become one of the biggest of 1992, an instant classic that pushed the band into the upper tier of rock acts and, eventually, the Hall of Fame. And while they gained ubiquity with the album’s third single, a tender and vulnerable ballad about overcoming heroin addiction that truly broke the mold of what people expected from them, that’s a story for another year...

Before all that, the album’s release was heralded by a frenetic first single fueled by the type of funky groove that had long been the stock and trade of drummer Chad Smith and bassist Flea, but was somehow kicked up a notch this time around. Guitarist John Frusciante accented that groove perfectly, and singer Anthony Kiedis proceeded to rap about the meaninglessness of material things… but mostly as a metaphor for boning... on a song so enduring, they'd perform it on a Super Bowl halftime show two decades later.

Discovered by British acid house DJ Adamski off of a demo tape slipped to him during a rave, the London-born singer dubbed simply Seal was brought in to provide vocals on Adamski’s 1990 single “Killer.” The song went straight to the top of the UK pop chart, and Seal was signed to a contract by ZTT/Sire Records off the back of that success.

In 1991, he released his self-titled debut album, and for the lead single, dropped a funky synth and wah-wah inflected track with an ambient groove that would foreshadow the rise of dance artists like Paul Van Dyk and William Orbit...

Lyrically it treads what was familiar ground in 1991, inspired as other songs were by the tumbling of the Berlin Wall and the massacre at China’s Tiananmen Square, depicting a society at a breaking point and stressing the need for more forward thinking.

It was a hard decision to sit this song outside of my top 10 but it just barely misses the cut for the top tier.

As far as classic opening lines go in the history of hip-hop, there aren’t many you can rank ahead of how James Todd Smith announced his return on the title track of his fourth album.

“Don’t call it a comeback! I’ve been here for years!”

With those 10 words and the five minute tour-de-force that followed, L.L. Cool J put all his haters to rest, maybe for good. L.L. brought energy and fire on a track inspired by words of encouragement by his grandmother as he sat at home between albums, wondering if his fortunes were flagging after a couple of career disappointments...

While the smooth and sexy “Around The Way Girl” was a bigger hit from the same album, this was the song that showed L.L. was still an all-timer not to be trifled with, and for good measure, he reworked it for a pair of incendiary live-band awards show performances and a classic appearance on an all-rap edition of MTV Unplugged, showing that despite his veteran status in the world of hip-hop, he still had a ton of gas in the tank.

First released as a single from his Heart Shaped World album upon its release in 1989, Chris Isaak didn’t find an audience for his one huge hit until it was discovered and utilized by director David Lynch.

Lynch was hot off the success of his TV series Twin Peaks, and put Isaak’s composition into his feature film Wild At Heart. The song’s popularity soon eclipsed the movie...

Isaak’s forlorn surf-rock ballad was initially given a simple performance clip interspersed with clips from the movie as its official music video, but a second pass by director Herb Ritts shot the song into the stratosphere. Ritts had Isaak cavort on a beach in black and white with mostly-topless supermodel Helena Christensen, and the steamy four minutes shot to popularity on MTV.

But make no mistake. This isn’t a case of style over substance. Rather it was the perfect promotion to give a deserving song its due.

It reached #6 on the Hot 100, spawning a wide assortment of covers and perhaps Lana Del Rey’s entire thematic essence in the process. Forget John Mellencamp. This one hurts so good.

What if I told you the most successful male musician of the 1990s had ZERO impact on the pop singles chart?

In 1991, with country music poised for a sales renaissance, an unassuming Kiss fan from Oklahoma suddenly became the most bankable man in not just “country” but THE country in terms of concert tickets and album sales. On just his second studio album, Garth Brooks became the face of an entire genre.

While No Fences only topped out at #3 on the Billboard album chart, it would go on to sell 18 million copies, bolstered by a pair of songs that weren’t pop hits but somehow became tunes everyone knew all the same. And it set the stage for a slew of #1 albums by decade’s end and multiple televised concert specials that made him a household name.

While I have respect for the genre, I’m not normally a country music fan. However, there are rarely absolutes in this world, and a few country tunes have come along that grabbed my attention. Such is the case with the fourth and final single Brooks released from No Fences...

Years before, he had written a tale of adultery and revenge with co-writer Pat Alger that had been initially recorded by Tanya Tucker. But the track didn’t make the cut for her album at the time, so Brooks reclaimed it for No Fences, and to promote it, released a music video that stirred up a world of controversy while also garnering critical praise.

In it we’re treated to nice guy Brooks playing an abusive bastard who has his two-timing ways blown up by a phone call from his side piece, and the just desserts he’s served up at video’s end proved a little too much for the usually genteel and amiable (read: bland) world of country music videos.

Brooks got the last laugh when he won the CMA for Video of the Year, despite the clip being banned by both CMT and TNN, and topped the country music charts with the song, which has gone on to be covered by multiple heavy metal acts.

Rumble, young man, rumble.

On the heels of their 1990 hit “The Humpty Dance,” the California rap crew led by Gregory “Shock G” Jacobs known as Digital Underground was enjoying the fruits of their success in 1991. And with it came TV appearances, radio airplay, and a spot in a strange Dan Aykroyd film.

The moving Nothing But Trouble had all sorts of things wrong with it despite a stellar cast that also included Chevy Chase, John Candy and Demi Moore. But the song promoted as the big single from its soundtrack was an A+ effort...

Digital Underground even appeared as themselves in the movie to perform it, and that included a young, up-and-coming future legend named Tupac Shakur. 2Pac made his debut on the song, spitting a few bars and making his presence felt, easily hanging with Shock G and his alter-ego Humpty Hump, who dropped more than a few winning punch lines during his verses.

The whole affair ends with Shock showing off his musicianship with the best organ solo of the year.

As far as career-opening mission statements go, you can’t really do any better than Michael McCrary, Shawn Stockman, and Nathan and Wanya Morris – four talented singers from Philadelphia who caught the ear of budding mogul Michael Bivins with their smooth harmonies… and the name of their group.

Dubbed Boyz II Men after a song by Bivins’s once-and-future group New Edition, the quartet announced their presence as major players on the R&B scene from the opening staccato beats of their debut single, a song that saw the Boyz repping themselves and their hometown while also telling everyone exactly what they came to do and whose success they were looking to emulate.

“Doing a little east coast swing… going off, not too hard, not too soft...”

One of the first truly new acts to go all in on the New Jack Swing movement, they rode that wave right to the top of the charts. Three times they would break the record for longest reign atop the Hot 100 before they were done, and it all started here, on a song that Stockman and Nathan Morris cowrote with Bivins and Dallas Austin (there’s that man again), a song that’s still one of the best in a discography full of amazing music.

(Bonus bit: Look for a very young Questlove of The Roots at 1:38 in the video. You can't miss him. He's playing the drums right after Biv does his rap on the commode.)

When the undisputed kings of thrash metal released their fifth studio album in the fall of 1991, few could have predicted the drastic left turn the band would take musically… or that it would elevate them to become one of the biggest bands of all time.

With the release of 1988’s …And Justice For All, the four men who made up the god-level metal act Metallica felt they had pushed the thrash genre as far as they could take it. The album had reached Billboard’s top 10 and even spawned a top 40 single in the surprise hit “One,” a feat unheard of from a band this heavy.

So, feeling they couldn’t climb any higher in terms of the speed of their compositions, they throttled down, focusing more on making their songcraft tighter, giving it more weight in a different direction.

The album took almost a year to record, with Bob Rock handling production and pushing the band to try harder and do better every step of the way. Upon its release, it hit the music world like an atomic bomb...

The self-titled effort would come to be nicknamed “The Black Album” for its densely black cover art, and it showed Metallica could more than tread water with its new philosophy. Eventually, it became the top-selling album of Billboard’s Soundscan-era, which began in 1991. Essentially, since The Black Album’s release, no other LP has sold more copies – 16 million to be exact.

It’s the metal album even non-metal fans own, and a big reason was its stadium-ready lead single, a song about coping with nightmares that would become the band’s most recognizable calling card. Its ubiquity on MTV, who had long pined for clips from the band before they finally relented and joined the music video revolution two years earlier with “One,” helped make it an unlikely top 20 hit on the Hot 100 and earned it crossover airplay at pop radio stations that hadn’t sniffed anything heavier than Poison or Guns N’ Roses.

To be clear, it was a game-changer, and its impact might have been even greater if a trio from Seattle hadn’t come along with something even more revolutionary a few months later.

Nothing shocked the music world more in 1991 than the revelation that Freddie Mercury, lead singer of the seminal British rock group Queen, had AIDS. Looking like a frail shell of himself, Mercury held a press conference to make the announcement that he’d had the disease for four years, then succumbed to it the very next day, leaving a gaping hole in the industry.

But it wasn’t just sadness that Mercury left behind. It was admiration, knowing how sick he had been as he completed what would be his final album with Queen while still alive. That album, Innuendo, was chock full of everything that fans loved about the band. And its final track is a lasting testament to everything Mercury stood for...

Despite how weak his body may have been, Mercury’s voice was strong as he belted out what would become one of Queen’s final singles. According to guitarist Brian May, who wrote most of the song, he was concerned whether or not Mercury would be able to pull it off in his condition.

In famous Mercury fashion, the ailing singer defiantly proclaimed, “I’ll f—king do it, darling,” then downed a vodka, marched into the studio, and ripped through one of the best performances he’d ever put down on tape.

It was a fitting final statement, one Mercury could be proud to leave behind for his fans, and sadly it also shows how much he still had to give had he not been taken from us at the ripe young age of 45.

The “gangsta rap” revolution was still about two years away from fully taking hold in 1991, but much like grunge, the seeds had been planted and were starting to take root.

Of course the standard-bearers were N.W.A., the Compton crew whose realistic depictions of neighborhood violence and police discrimination had landed them on FBI watch lists.

But the first truly gangsta joint to crack the top 40 wasn’t from the west coast or from the east coast, for that matter. It came from the projects in Houston. And it didn’t glorify violence, tout the perks of gang life, or brag about ill-gotten gains...

Instead, Scarface, Willy D and Bushwick Bill, known collectively as the Geto Boys, painted a picture of the other side of the drug game, describing an existence filled with crippling paranoia, suicidal thoughts, and PTSD, the side effects of constantly needing eyes in the back of your head because your enemies play for keeps.

Laid atop a smooth sample of Isaac Hayes's “Hung Up On My Baby,” it made a surprising run into the top 40, the biggest hit the Geto Boys would ever muster. In the process, it became a stone-cold classic and one of the best hip-hop songs ever to emerge from the south.

It was the song that sent dozens of major label scouts straight to the pacific northwest.

When Aberdeen, Washington, trio Nirvana recorded their second album Nevermind, their first since leaving indie label Sub Pop for David Geffen's DGC Records, singer Kurt Cobain was worried the production by Butch Vig was too glossy. He wanted a grittier sound.

But it’s a good bet that Vig’s pop sheen made the album accessible enough to set off the chain reaction that would follow. Because it would take more than a little sweetening of the brew to sand down the rough-hewn edges of Cobain’s vision and voice, and a spoonful of sugar always helps the medicine go down.

It’s been thoroughly-chronicled what Nirvana’s first single from Nevermind accomplished, but let’s take that out of the equation and look solely at the song itself. Cobain somehow melded equal parts Boston and the Pixies to create something fresh and rebellious, but also catchy enough to sing along to. There was always a songcraft inherent in even Cobain’s most caustic fever-dream compositions...

I can attest to the immediacy of his ability to grab listeners with a hook. I heard the song before the hype took over, before it could be deemed a hit, much less a movement. I was 12 at the time, a junior high kid with wide eyes and an open mind, and it grabbed me from the first pounds of Dave Grohl’s drumkit in that hazy, dimly-lit gymnasium.

And somehow that riff, those mumbled verses, that scream-at-the-top-of-your-lungs chorus… it never lost its luster for me in the last 30 years. I bought the cassingle the day after I saw the video during MTV's late-night rotation in the late fall of 1991, and three decades later, it still has the same urgency, the same charm.

Teenage angst would never smell so sweet again.

Lots of writers would go into the task of ranking the top songs of 1991 and say, “OK, Nirvana’s #1. Now let’s do the other 39.”

I’m not lots of writers.

I think there’s a four-piece out of Athens, Georgia, that has a little something to say about it.

There’s exactly one song from 1991 that sounded like nothing that which came before it, and that still sounds like nothing what has come since. And it all starts with a mandolin.

When R.E.M. guitarist Peter Buck started messing around with the old-timey instrument, he came up with a nice little riff he thought his band could work with. They turned it into a modern pop masterpiece.

Bassist Mike Mills complemented the riff by picking just the right notes to accent it. Drummer Bill Berry drove the whole arrangement forward with a steady hand. An acoustic guitar and hand claps helped fill out the sound. Then singer Michael Stipe did what he does best by avoiding anything that could be considered predictable.

There’s no discernible chorus even if the song loops back on itself a couple of times. He didn’t take the sweet melody and write something about love or even heartache. He didn’t even write about what most people assume the song is about. Instead he wrote about something everyone can relate to but few talk about.

He wrote about anxiety...

This is not a song about faith, as so many misread due to a title that references an old southern phrase that means being fed up. It’s a song about someone barely holding it together on a daily basis, about obsessing over every interaction, every misstep.

“Oh no, I’ve said too much. I haven’t said enough.”

Stipe wrote a set of lyrics so unfortunately relatable, people don’t even realize why they relate to it half the time. We’ve all had those moments when we stepped in it publicly, when we wet our pants in front of the class.

In writing about his discomfort, Michael Stipe offered us all comfort in knowing that we’re not alone when we fall. He’s been where we are. And in writing about it, about fighting through it, he may have given us the best song not just of the year but of the decade.

This is a song about obsessing over our failures, but this is also a song about surviving those moments when we fall down. In a year chock full of unlikely hits, this is the best of the bunch. This is the biggest hit in the career of one of America’s best bands of all time.

This is my #1 song of 1991.