Best Song | Of 1997

Chloe, our pop critic, snorted. “Oh, please. That song is seven minutes of a genius having a panic attack. The ‘best’ song of 1997 should make you feel something other than existential dread. It’s ‘Building a Mystery’ by Sarah McLachlan. That bassline alone—”

That night, I rode the subway home, earbuds in, as the train rattled through the tunnel. I queued up track seven. The strings swelled. Ashcroft started walking.

“It’s a song about being stuck inside your own life,” I said. “You have money. You have a Walkman. You have a whole city. And you’re still just some guy trying not to get hit by a bus.” best song of 1997

I told them why.

“Then pick ‘The Freshmen’ by The Verve Pipe,” I countered. “Same year. Same feeling. Worse guitar solo.” Chloe, our pop critic, snorted

“No,” I said. “It’s honest. That’s different.”

“Bittersweet Symphony” wasn’t a song. It was a resignation letter. That orchestral sample—stolen, technically—sounded like a memory you never had. And Richard Ashcroft, shoulders hunched, muttering into the wind: “No change, I can’t change, I can’t change…” The ‘best’ song of 1997 should make you

We debated another hour. In the end, we didn’t vote. The list went to press with “Paranoid Android” at number one and “Bittersweet Symphony” at number four. Chloe slipped me a note afterward: You were right. But never tell Mark.