
Papa's Got a Brand New Bag
The record where the beat moved to the one and funk quietly began. James Brown never looked back.

The record where the beat moved to the one and funk quietly began. James Brown never looked back.
Anka typed the lyric overnight in New York asking what Sinatra would say, then handed him a life's summing-up.

May came home from a Stafford gig where the crowd sang back, and built a chorus from stomps and claps.
Aspen in 1974, Nicks weighing whether to quit music, and Buckingham Travis-picking a Martin D-18 underneath.

A back injury kept Young seated with an acoustic guitar; Taylor and Ronstadt were in Nashville and sang behind him.

Alan Parsons taped antique-shop clocks as a quadraphonic test; Mason's rototoms follow, and the alarms still land like panic.

Kumalo cut one descending bass measure, Halee reversed the tape for the break, and Chevy Chase mimed it on MTV.
Campbell built the track on a LinnDrum, Petty passed, and Henley wrote middle age onto somebody else's demo.

Tyler had the tune on his family's New Hampshire lodge piano years before Aerosmith; a reissue reached number six.

James Taylor picked up a six-string banjo he had never played, Ronstadt harmonised, and Young's ranch caretaker got a song.
Seger walked out of American Graffiti with a story of his own, and took six months finding the words.

Tinnitus from the Ragged Glory tour pushed Young back to acoustic guitars, and Ronstadt shadows him line for line.
Smith's six-string bass, acoustic guitars strummed to a blur, and the Cure's sunniest song about feeling old.

Rostam's harpsichord reharmonizes a melody that traveled from Bread through Grover Washington Jr. to Souls of Mischief, then here.
Ervin Drake's vintage-wine conceit reached Sinatra via the Kingston Trio, and Gordon Jenkins's arrangement won its own Grammy.

Wadge was playing chords while Sheeran showered; twenty minutes later they had a Song of the Year.

Six-times platinum for a soundtrack ballad: Rick Nowels producing, Craig Armstrong's strings, Del Rey singing Daisy Buchanan's doubt.

Nineteen weeks on the Hot 100, fittingly, and a middle-aged narrator undone by a girlfriend who doesn't know Aretha Franklin.
Cut live on a darkened Marin auditorium stage with no audience, and somehow the Dead's only Top 10 hit.

Jackson wrote it alone, a whole marriage from courtship to old age, and country radio held it at number one.

Brian Deck built a loop for Beam to layer guitar over; Stewart reportedly chose it for Twilight's prom.

Nicks wrote it in Aspen weighing whether to quit music; the Chicks add three-part harmony and take it top ten.

Buffett was twenty-seven when he wrote it, about a Chart Room regular in Key West and a life at sea.
Scalzo read about an elderly Texas couple who drove off and never came back, then wrote them a happier ending.