True Alternative: The Top 100 Songs of the ’90s Underground

80. Andrew Bird – “Pathetique”
from Music of Hair (1996; self-released)

Years before working with Bowl of Fire, and eons before the solo career that we know him for, vocalist and multi-instrumentalist Andrew Bird was constructing oddball, folksy eccentricities and contributing to a mid-’90s, old-music revival of sorts. Part of his participation in that sound came in the form of instrumental work on records by acoustic swing music group Squirrel Nut Zippers, but what many people don’t realize is that Bird was well on his way to constructing his own, Vaudeville-influenced sound on tracks like “Pathetique” (which he would later revisit on his first LP with Bowl of Fire). Its dark, carnival-esque vibes are the perfect accompaniment to Bird’s over the top break-up song lyrics, which are just a close read away from satire. Bird would evolve as an artist throughout the 2000s—and in a decidedly brighter lamplight—but in 1996 he was already creating dark, mature and complex sounds. – ATB

79. Slowdive – “Alison”
from Souvlaki (1993; Creation)

One of the many ethereal, airy tracks from 1993’s Souvlaki, “Alison” resonates with guts and raw emotion, dousing our ears with breezy vibes. The shoegaze phenomenon’s second album, Souvlaki dove deeper into the pool of the dream pop possibilities that lay ahead. “Alison” feels both earthly and from another dimension—the way Neil Halstead sings sounds like an omniscient voice, beamed in from a distant land. Amid negative reviews of their debut album, Slowdive persevered and teamed up with Brian Eno to create a unique, iridescent sound. Despite the initial shrug from critics who labeled previous works “lazy,” “Alison” feels hopeful, a bright and magnetic hint at what the four were capable of creating. – VC

78. The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion – “Bellbottoms”
from Orange (1994; Matador)

Perhaps the least obviously 1990s-like track on the list, “Bellbottoms” was at once the most dramatic arrangement and the most honest distillation of the JSBX concept. The opening track to their 1994 opus Orange, it is a raucous mix of The Stooges’ aggressive disarray, the J.B.s’ call-and-response evangelism, the string-laden melodrama of a Blaxploitation soundtrack and Jerry Lee Lewis’ fiery all-or-nothing stage hysteria. Most generations have their phase of reinventing the scuzzy blues rock idea (The Jim Jones Revue made a good stab at it in the 2000s), but few did it with the commitment and gusto of Jon Spencer’s band, and never did they get it as right as they did on this “Bellbottoms”. – MP

77. Bright Eyes – “The City Has Sex”
from Letting Off the Happiness – 1998; Saddle Creek)

While it probably grew tiresome for Conor Oberst to hear discussion of his age early in his career, it was impossible for music journalists not to bring it up. For fuck’s sake, he released “The City Has Sex” and the Bright Eyes album containing it, Letting Off the Happiness, at only 18. While many people have the roiling emotions that Oberst showcases at that age, most aren’t yet able to articulate them as meaningful art. “The City Has Sex” is a sonic outlier on Happiness, a rollicking folk-punk number amid mostly slow, sparse acoustic songs. Yet its subject—crushing depression—is in step with the record, expressed in direct (occasionally on-the-nose), but always devastating language: “And the lonely once bandaged lay fully exposed, they undressed their wounds for each other.” Oberst’s voice, always an acquired taste, was at its most unformed and warbling at this point, but on “City” it rings out fiercely over the din. – LG

76. Death Cab for Cutie – “Your Bruise”
from Something About Airplanes (1998; Barsuk)

All good things must start somewhere and, for the four gents comprising indie rock favorite Death Cab for Cutie, it was their debut album Something About Airplanes. “Your Bruise” was one of ten tracks on the listing, released by Barsuk Records in 1998. With a haunting yet melancholic guitar intro, the track sticks to a minimalistic palette, drawing on drums only to highlight the simplicity of the main riff, straining till its eerie end. Resonating with desperation and nostalgia, the track creates the classic Death Cab sadness known all too well by its quickly growing following. The group was young, and the lyrics prove it—with a tale of recent heartache, and a fresh bruise. – VC

75. Jurassic 5 – “Jayou”
from Jurassic 5 (1998; Pan)

You can’t start Jurassic 5 without the “J-U,” so it makes sense that the first significant bars and beats on the L.A. hip-hoppers’ first album are titled with a riff on those letter sounds. It’s a stealth-fighter posse cut, nimbly introducing the rappers and their philosophy. In a vacuum, Chali 2na comes across as the rhyme leader here, a Big Daddy Kane for the backpack set. (I can’t help but wonder why his star never rose far beyond the J5’s friendly confines.) Meanwhile, DJ Nu-Mark and Cut Chemist—a formidable one-two punch in any DJ context—focus here on just spare beats and a streetwise flute sample lifted from Pleasure Web’s “Music Man Pt. 2.” For a crew whose reputation for vocal and turntable skills would echo loud and long into the future, it’s fascinating to hear this almost stripped-down beginning. – AB

74. Carcass – “Heartwork”
from Heartwork (1993; Earache)

Heartwork? How about fretwork? Bill Steer and Michael Amott go into complete riff overdrive on this melodic death metal classic. It’s the showpiece of the album of the same name, often seen as a breakthrough for extreme metal. With stampeding double bass behind them, Steer and Amott trade leads. Their riffs start to conjure up a unique stuttering effect, which speaks to Carcass’ ferocity, and since the song is so cleanly recorded, you can really hear the riffs stacking up in your eardrums. Carcass definitely tears it up, but they’re songwriters, and “Heartwork” could be enjoyed by listeners who don’t care much for death metal. After all, who doesn’t like a good riff? – JJM

73. Red House Painters – “Mistress”
from Red House Painters [Rollercoaster] (1993; 4AD)

It’s startling to hear this record from a much younger Mark Kozelek, fresh out of his most conciliatory personal work as Sun Kil Moon and his recent habit of mud-slinging up-and-coming alternative acts through an intricate network of backwards compliments. Even though “Mistress” is as shimmering as a Cocteau Twins encore and almost cuddlesome, you can hear the seeds of the sour half-surrender he’d pursue afterwards in its troubled teenage state. I’ve never been able to determine whether the young man in “Mistress” is pissed off at his girlfriend or his parents, but either perceived enemy would fit: Both are reinforcing his letdown with simple, every-day ideals, and in between he squeezes in dreams of being enlivened by explicit sin with a stranger. Applications within. – PP

72. Happy Mondays – “God’s Cop”
from Pills ‘n’ Thrills and Bellyaches (1990; Factory)

Alongside The Stone Roses’ eponymous debut, the third Happy Mondays album permanently pinned Manchester to the world’s music-scene map and legitimized the “baggy” brand of dance-rock. Pills ‘n’ Thrills and Bellyaches contained big hits, to be sure, but it’s a deep cut like “God’s Cop” that helps freeze time and location. The BPMs move faster than in “Kinky Afro,” and the drum loops hit harder than in their cover of John Kongos’ “Step On.” In place of proto-house pianos, college rock jangle and clubland divas, we hear klaxon-like guitar figures, bubbly supporting synth lines, and Shaun Ryder’s chorus shambling through the day’s latest warehouse party. – AB

71. UGK – “Short Texas”
from Too Hard to Swallow (1992; Jive)

It wouldn’t be a ’90s underground list without a reverent bow to the then-growing world of southern hip-hop. Being a born-and-bred Houstonian, I’m of course partial to the slow downed grooves of the Texas rap scene. And while the chopped-and-screwed stylings of H-Town’s own DJ Skrew didn’t make this final list (for shame!), we were sure to include one of the man’s most frequently sampled acts—the legendary duo of Bun B and Pimp C. As Underground Kingz, these two emcees were nigh-unstoppable, layering hard-yet-smart rhymes over Pimp C’s smooth, deceptively layered production. Pimp C’s time on this world was cut short, which would force Bun B to forage on with a solo career (to varying success, depending on the record.) But in 1992, they were achieving southern rap perfection. – ATB