
Like a Rolling Stone
A snare crack, a sneer, and Kooper's uninvited organ swirling through the song that split rock open.

A snare crack, a sneer, and Kooper's uninvited organ swirling through the song that split rock open.

Aretha takes Otis Redding's song away from him for good, spells out the demand, and never gives it back.

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

Four chords, a mumble nobody could decipher, and the riff that ended one decade of rock and started another.
Party chatter, a sax that sighs, and Gaye asking the question Motown begged him not to ask.
Keith dreamt the fuzz riff, taped it half-asleep, and woke up holding the sound of teenage frustration.

Brian Wilson's pocket symphony, months and a fortune spent chasing one shimmering theremin line into the sunlight.

That bassline, mixed and remixed until it gleamed, and the four minutes that integrated MTV.
Chuck Berry's intro lick is rock's opening statement, a country boy's origin myth now drifting past the solar system.

Two takes in different keys and tempos spliced into one, a Mellotron haze over Lennon's Liverpool childhood.
Cooke wrote it after a motel turned him away, and sang it like a hymn he already knew by heart.
It opens by admitting doubt and spends the next two minutes refuting it; McCartney still calls it the greatest.

Page's riff, Plant's howl, and a theremin freakout in the middle that still sounds like the roof coming off.

Handclaps, that leaping chord under "I can't hide," and five weeks later America belonged to them.
Elvis's first RCA single, all cavernous echo and empty rooms, the loneliest number one ever cut.

A Bronx schoolteacher's poem about lynching, sung in a single spotlight, still the bravest three minutes on record.

Harrison wrote it in Clapton's garden while skipping a business meeting, and it sounds exactly like that relief.

A nonsense holler cleaned up just enough to press, and the moment rock and roll stopped asking permission.

Leiber and Stoller wrote it for Big Mama Thornton; Elvis took it, sped it up, and set it on fire.