
Fly Like an Eagle (Steve Miller Band)
Miller ran a Stratocaster through an Echoplex for that staggered triplet echo, and the synthesizer drifts like weather.

Miller ran a Stratocaster through an Echoplex for that staggered triplet echo, and the synthesizer drifts like weather.

Daniel wrote it late for Gimme Fiction, cut it first, and sang in a Prince falsetto over Eno's hi-hat.
Tucker was pregnant, so Doug Yule played drums, bass and the solo; Reed's Jenny finds her life on the radio.

Ferry lifted the title from his own art-school painting of a giant cigarette packet, Eno's VCS3 shrieking behind him.

Ferry's voice drops out almost two minutes before the end, leaving a synthesizer to finish the thought.

A swan song by Ferry's own account, with a wordless vocal from Yanick Etienne, found in the next studio.

The BBC ran its long instrumental intro under programme trailers, and Bowie's ultimate retreat song went to number three.

Cale's viola drone, Reed's ostrich guitar, Tucker's tambourine: one of three songs the band recut in Hollywood.

Bowie first threw it away on a fake band called Arnold Corns, then rebuilt it at Trident around Ronson.

Zinner's looped riff, twenty minutes of writing from Karen O, and a video where the tears are real.

Two weeks of Alpine fog broke, and Lynne wrote this and thirteen more songs, closing it with a vocoder.

Youssou N'Dour improvising in Wolof, and a bassline so deep it had to move up the vinyl.

Ten minutes captured in one take; Ficca thought it was a rehearsal and Verlaine refused Andy Johns another go.
Four notes known as Syd's theme, and Barrett himself turning up at Abbey Road mid-session, unrecognized by the band.
Townshend wrote it to flatter a pinball-obsessed critic, then called it the clumsiest thing he ever wrote.

Built on the bones of Tom Petty's American Girl, which Petty confirmed without complaint, and recorded in Gordon Raphael's basement.

That opening arpeggio is a Lowrey organ's marimba repeat function; Dave Arbus's violin sends the ending careening.
Recorded beside the Berlin Wall, Fripp's feedback howling while Bowie sings himself hoarse over a single defiant day.

Two unfinished songs bolted together, an orchestra climbing to nothing, and the last piano chord in pop.