
Seven Nation Army
A guitar pitched down to fake a bass, and the seven-note riff every stadium on earth now sings.

A guitar pitched down to fake a bass, and the seven-note riff every stadium on earth now sings.
Dave Davies took a razor blade to his little Elpico amp's speaker cone, and distortion arrived on British radio.
Recorded in Hollywood with Cale on piano, the rhythm pushing like a subway train under Reed's flat delivery.
Three chords, sleigh bells, and Cale leaning on a single piano note throughout. Punk starts here.

Built on the bones of Tom Petty's American Girl, which Petty confirmed without complaint, and recorded in Gordon Raphael's basement.
Pop lifted the title from a Time column on Vietnam, and Bowie's mix made Williamson's guitar a threat.

A Vox Continental organ, a Michigan basement studio, a tiny local label, and somehow the number one record in America.
Gardiner found the riff wandering under apple blossom, and Bowie sings behind Iggy at Hansa by the Wall.

Ten minutes at the end of somebody else's session, and an ocarina solo standing in for a hand whistle.
Ray Davies's publisher wanted to sue the Doors over the riff; Davies declined, and the snarl outlived the argument.

Erickson wrote this kiss-off at fifteen, and Tommy Hall's electric jug gave Texas garage rock its strangest sound.

Five hours on brand-new sixteen-track, with a vocal fed through an Ampeg amp's tremolo for that shimmering close.

Four feet of air between hi-hat and snare mic, and a drum machine sketch reborn as live New York rock.
The album's opening shot, cut with Cale at the Hit Factory, and Iggy making boredom sound like a threat.

Guitars pushed to sound like synthesizers, and a Roman Coppola video that borrows its neon from Tron.

Moretti woke to hear Casablancas inventing the melody in the bathroom, and it became the warmest song on Is This It.

A cough left in from the demo, a Motown-derived stomp, and a riff everyone insisted they had heard before.
Mann and Weil wrote it about Gerry Goffin's drug problems, by Mann's account; the Raiders took it to number four.
Jack White turned a children's clapping rhyme into a complaint about the phone company, cut in his own living room.