
Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now
Marr's melody came from a New York hotel room, the title from Sandie Shaw, and misery never sounded so cheerful.

Marr's melody came from a New York hotel room, the title from Sandie Shaw, and misery never sounded so cheerful.

An arpeggio out of Chicago house, a sample from the Cassini Saturn probe, Lennox wanting only a home.

Goldwasser wrote the music at nineteen in a dorm room, an exercise in stereotypical pop that outgrew itself.

Tamborello sent instrumental DATs to Gibbard, who added vocals and shipped them back; his first happy love song.

The praying mantis in their house inspired the music, by the band's account; the words satirize rock-star excess.

A 6/4 groove where pop usually sits in 4/4, and Fridmann's production turns silvery synths into a slow strut.

Recorded at his parents' house on the Mornington Peninsula around a Luiz Bonfá sample, eight weeks at number one.

One Letterman performance in March 2014, Herring's angular dancing, and Pitchfork, NME and Spin named it the year's best.

A round about snow that the band never once played together, its voices stacked from first takes in production.

One microphone, mono, caught during a studio break when the headphones failed, and Gibbard's breath before the first chord.
Bedroom pop in the literal sense, a Gary Low disco record slowed to a crawl, and chillwave had its template.

Koenig found the punctuation via a Columbia Facebook group, then wrote a song about not caring at all.

An earlier version with different lyrics sat unreleased until Good Will Hunting sent Smith to the Oscars in white.

Yttling whistled a placeholder melody, ran it through tape delay, and kept it; Bergsman answers line for line.

Koenig named it for a Columbia classmate from his Buddhism class, and the final minute cracks wide open.

Greg Kurstin's four-on-the-floor and mid-nineties Erasure worship turned the Quins into a dance-chart number one.

Adrian Utley of Portishead helped build the noise, and Hadreas answers a lifetime of stares with pure swagger.

Snowed into a Prince Edward Island farmhouse, Rankin wrote a proposal song; VanGaalen cut it in Calgary.