Slant Magazine

10. Dizzee Rascal, "I Luv U." Set over a pounding, industrial backbeat, Dizzee Rascal's "I Luv U" subverts all expectations established by its simple text-speak title. No slick pop trifle, "I Luv U" and its venomous he-said/she-said barbs offer a stark and disturbing assessment of gender politics in the face of the apocalypse: Everyone is equally culpable, and no one gets away unscathed. What lingers long after its final beat drops is the suggestion that this rift, caused by a fundamental inability to communicate the differences between wants and needs, is irreparable. JK

9. Justin Timberlake, "Cry Me a River." Years before a giggling piggy helped land Justin Timberlake his second #1 single with "My Love," a sniveling, snot-nosed ogre made a similar cameo on the singer's hit "Cry Me a River." That eccentric vocal embellishment, dreamt up in Timbaland's lab, was just one element (along with Justin's beatboxing, countertenor yelps, and "Dirty Diana"-style screams) that helped make the Britney kiss-off a smash and Justin the new Prince of Pop. "River" might be the closest a pop song has gotten to capturing the melodrama and opulence of opera since, well, maybe ever. SC

8. Gnarls Barkley, "Crazy." It's the unlikeliest of pop songs, driven by its sensitivity for the emotion of a pained soul. Its beauty comes from its plaintive reminiscence, its poignant questioning, and unlikely chorus, the generous old-meets-new production by Danger Mouse, so unpretentiously but catchily lush with beats that are alternately hesitant and urgent, which match the exposed nerves of Cee-Lo's richly impulsive vocal, which is playful, sarcastic, lost, vulnerable, sometimes all at once. Once it gets inside your head, you're glad it refuses to leave. EG

7. Missy Elliott, "Get Ur Freak On." It's a bit hard to capture now, years after it conquered the world, but once upon a time this song was really fucking weird. Of course, there's the totally twisted sample, hitching a ride to Bollywood in Knight Rider's car. Then there's the ADHD-cum-dancehall, chaos-theory stance it takes toward verse-chorus structure, punctuated with sound effects (Missy hocking a loogie!). Not to mention the drum-'n-bass outro and Missy's ragga toasting vocal stylings. Okay, so this song is still really fucking weird. DH

6. Beyoncé featuring Jay-Z, "Crazy In Love." A chunk of retro-stylized '70s funkadelia that includes a show-stopping guest spot by then-DL boyfriend Jay-Z, a horn-y Chi-Lites sample, some go-go-influenced breakbeats, a proud, bottom-heavy, hip-pop posterior, and a hook so scorching that it permanently branded "diva" to the singer's résumé, Beyoncé's "Crazy In Love" positioned the buxom bottle blonde as the Tina Turner of the iTunes generation. The big-piped singer's omnipresent caterwaul was, for once, justified by the mania propagated by her main squeeze. Temporary insanity never sounded so good. SC

5. Rihanna featuring Jay-Z, "Umbrella." Rihanna's characteristically dispassionate delivery and syllabic lollygagging both linger at the end of the tongue, and the coattails of this monster hit's reign poured like nothing else this side of "My Humps." Even if none of its descendents managed to harness enough energy to power so much as the original's high-hat, the dozens of acoustic, pop, rock, country, punk, geek, and twee covers that sprang up in its wake can attest, "Um-buh-rella" was the decade's foremost throwback to the notion of pop standards. Which, you have to admit, iTunes needed then more than ever. EH

4. OutKast, "B.O.B." Has any song ever moved this fast, with such insistent dexterity? Probably not, and "B.O.B.," beyond its timeliness and the unnecessarily great hook, brims over with such booming life that even an overlong, extraneous outro can't drag down its energy. The long ending does serve as a moment of reflection after the three-minute blur that preceded it, the mix scampering from left to right, quirky flourishes sprouting up only to be tossed off in an instant, standing as one of the most concentrated hurricanes in the history of rap. JC

3. Kylie Minogue, "Can't Get You Out of My Head." Names can be destinies; titles can be too. So it goes with Kylie's most global hit, an iridescent earworm remarkably effective at its explicit mission of reprogramming your brain. Kraftwerk with an armful of million-dollar hooks and an international-scale marketing budget, its robotic after-hours pulse signaled the arrival of a minimal era in dance music. It still sounds like a future where everyone's coked up, wearing slinky dresses, driving sleek cars too fast on the autobahn en route to the coolest party in the world—and it still lives up to its title's promise. DH

2. M.I.A., "Paper Planes." A song about immigration whose sound drew a provocative link between violence and capitalism, "Paper Planes" was the bomb way before that conundrum known as M.I.A. licensed it to Sony and Fox and Billboard and Grammy dutifully responded. One of the more ubiquitous anthems of the decade, "Paper Planes" was also among M.I.A.'s least murky provocations, an ironic address of terrorism as a matter of moral and political judgment, but you should still feel no guilt for stomping along to its driving beats, as they've always been M.I.A.'s way of pulling up the people to her cause. EG

1. Jay-Z, "99 Problems." The sound of the magnanimity of reformed megalomania reaching its limit, Jay-Z's octane-fueled masterpiece is Where I'm Coming From by way of Björk's "5 Years." Chained up by Rick Rubin's swaggering guitar riffs and Billy Squier's soul-penetrating breakbeats, Hova swats the kickstand and instantly tears pavement. One mere mile above the speed limit, he learns the tough way that money still ain't a thang, and his justified rage sees him through possibly the most cleansing act of exorcism in hip-hop history. To be honest, we're all still a little bit scorched. Like Björk said, "You say that you want, and then can't handle." EH