
White Christmas
Berlin's snowless Christmas song, the best-selling physical single ever pressed, and the sound of every soldier's homesickness.

Berlin's snowless Christmas song, the best-selling physical single ever pressed, and the sound of every soldier's homesickness.

McCartney heard a piccolo trumpet on a Bach broadcast, called David Mason in, and pop had never sounded brighter.

Twenty-two takes at A&R Studios, the Sweet Inspirations behind him, and a song Morrison says never paid him royalties.

Nobody in the room had the lyrics, so Bunny Robyn spliced three broken takes into Domino's biggest hit.

An Average White Band loop, Q-Tip and Phife trading lines, and a Queens rooftop that Linden Boulevard still remembers.

No I.D. looped George Benson, Common told hip hop's story as one woman, and Ice Cube took it personally.
Five years in Scholz's basement, a hundred-dollar Yamaha twelve-string on the intro, and Delp stacking harmonies over the top.
Campbell built the track on a LinnDrum, Petty passed, and Henley wrote middle age onto somebody else's demo.

Flood said it wasn't good enough, so Corgan rewrote it that night and got the band's biggest hit.
Mills cut the piano at Criteria on the instrument heard on "Layla," and John Paul Jones arranged the strings.

Mick Ronson suggested the baby rattles and sang the "let it rock" hook; the handclaps were only a guide track.

Twelve players at Western, an empty water jug for percussion, and Murry Wilson speeding the tape a semitone.
Seger walked out of American Graffiti with a story of his own, and took six months finding the words.

Fogerty wrote it in a California apartment, never having set foot in Louisiana, and still summoned the swamp.

Goldwasser wrote the music at nineteen in a dorm room, an exercise in stereotypical pop that outgrew itself.
Sixteen national number ones, then a second life at 12:01 a.m. on 1 August 1981 as MTV's first video.

Pitchfork's fifteenth-best song of the 2000s, the Dreijer siblings' synth pulse, later stripped to one acoustic guitar by Jose Gonzalez.

Nas was twenty and already writing memoir here, over DJ Premier's loop of a Reuben Wilson organ.

Teddy Riley's new jack swing under a nostalgia lyric, with John Singleton staging the video in ancient Egypt.

Armstrong wrote it in 1993 about a girlfriend leaving for Ecuador; Cavallo added the strings while the band played foosball.

One of three Deja Vu tracks the four cut together, Young keening about the Ontario town of his childhood.

Released two days after Shakur's death, Daz Dillinger's loop of DeBarge's A Dream carrying a farewell to lost friends.

A fantasy of Belle Epoque Paris, handed out free online, that then spent thirty-one weeks climbing to alternative number one.

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.

Gaudio first wrote it about Prohibition's repeal, then Judy Parker rewrote the lyric and drummer Gerry Polci sang lead.

Hula and K. Fingers looped Kool and the Gang's Summer Madness, and the duo won a Grammy for it.

A twelve-string riff swapped for six and doubled for thickness, then a chorus about a summer Adams never actually had.

A rolling piano, Butler's boyhood in The Woodlands outside Houston, and an album he called a letter from the suburbs.

Guitar jangle, Wheeler's voice, and a US Modern Rock number one that Britain never received as a single.

Five mics from The Source for The Fix, a Mike Dean beat, and Scarface drawing his Houston block affectionately.

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

Rice-Oxley hammered it out on piano after "Heroes", and Keane proved a rock band could skip guitars entirely.

Cut with Joel Little in a small Auckland studio, the beat built before a word, that "Yeah" doing everything.

Sixteen weeks in the top ten, more than any other single of the eighties, and Aronoff's drums never let up.

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

Four voices, no instruments, a 1975 Cooley High ballad rebuilt a cappella and carried to number two.

A homesick lullaby from No Need to Argue, with a string arrangement O'Riordan scored herself over Noel Hogan's chords.

Funkadelic's Can You Get to That, looped and sweetened, under the one Sleigh Bells song that whispers.

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