Slant Magazine

70. Daft Punk, "Harder Better Faster Stronger." In a sense, it's odd that "Harder Better Faster Stronger" would boast the longest legs of any Daft Punk song, given no other track of theirs leans quite as hard on a preexisting sample—in this case, Edwin Birdsong's fuzzy-fizzy "Cola Bottle Baby," the intro of which is lifted wholesale by Homem-Christo and Bangalter before their flashcard transcription of "Heigh-Ho" is rattled off by a funky vocoder. But legs don't count when, as it turns out, mathematical hands did all the walking to ensure Daft Punk their berth in the viral hall of fame. EH

69. The White Stripes, "My Doorbell." Because "I've been thinking about letting you check my oil" doesn't have quite the same ring to it, now does it? But Jack White can bang out a metaphor just fine anyway, and what "My Doorbell" demonstrates is that he can bang out some killer church piano power chords just fine too. As for Meg, bless her heart, she still bangs her drums like an enthusiastic fourth grader. It's a good thing that the sloppiness of the rhythm track on "My Doorbell" plays perfectly into the song's petulance. JK

68. Jay-Z featuring UGK, "Big Pimpin'." A clear-cut celebration of excess, "Big Pimpin'" classifies a vanished period, where wealth was not only in high abundance but still relatively new to the rapper. The song therefore captures Jay-Z at his most flagrant peak, rising to the top of the genre but not quite there yet. And though his promises to "be forever mackin'" haven't come true, the song remains an intriguing time capsule, even as UGK's great guest verses threaten to steal the song out from under him. JC

67. Portishead, "Machine Gun." Toward the tail-end of what could be called the War Decade, Portishead reemerged from their 11-year slumber with an album filled with the sounds of helicopters and the rifle bullets of a machine gun. Lead single, "Machine Gun," pairs its rapid-fire percussion with sleek synth pads straight out of an early-'80s John Carpenter film and Beth Gibbons's plaintive, self-reflective vocal. It's fitting, perhaps, that the first machine gun was designed by Leonardo Da Vinci; Portishead's song is as marvelous and frightening an invention as the weapon itself. SC

66. Kanye West, "Jesus Walks." The brilliant chain-gang sample joined up with a martial drumbeat and the questioning narrative highlights Kanye West at his most creative, as both a producer and a rapper, typifying one of those rare moments where self-doubt blooms into brilliantly unfettered expression. Besides skits, religious songs usually make for the weakest tracks on hip-hop albums, wherein the artist, hung over from a CD's worth of bad behavior, stumbles in for a sort of half-genuine confessional worship, but here the entire process is suffused with something far more visceral, typifying West's continuing ability to communicate feelings while dealing with them tactlessly. JC

65. Björk, "Pagan Poetry." At a certain point, Björk stopped focusing her attention on human behavior and instead tapped into something far more primal. Vespertine was advertised by its creator as a good album to cook spaghetti to on a gloomy Sunday afternoon, but no amount of oregano can mask the odor of frosted pheromones wafting throughout "Cocoon," "Hidden Place," and the album's black-pearl centerpiece "Pagan Poetry." At the song's climax, Björk is in ecstasy, tangled S&M-style within the lashes of harps in full bloom. But it's the denouement, in which she confesses "I love him" against a sonically black background, that marks the song's emotionally naked peak. EH

64. Missy Elliott, "Pass That Dutch." Missy Elliott's boogie-feverish "Pass That Dutch" may begin with a chilling P.A. warning about an "unknown virus that's attacking all clubs," but it's just a fake-out. "Dutch" is stripped of inhibition, of hang-ups, of valence items of clothing. "Freak him, freak her, whatever your choice." Welcome to Missy's pansexual utopia, in which constricting gender codes take a holiday, along with melody and harmony. In their stead, a propulsive double-dutch beat snaps merrily along. "Dutch" may be Tim and Missy's most Moroder-Bellotte-Summer moment ever. EH

63. Rihanna, "SOS." Deftly co-opting Soft Cell's 1982 hit "Tainted Love"—itself a revision of Diana Ross and the Supremes's "Where Did Our Love Go"—by transforming the original's synthesizer bleeps into a maritime radio-style distress signal and adding a full-bodied bottom to the tinny mod-rock track, the frenetic and breathless "SOS" helped Rihanna resuscitate dance music on Top 40 radio when, in the middle of the decade, it seemed like it was drowning in a sea of mediocre hip-hop and rock. SC

62. Christina Aguilera featuring Redman, "Dirrty." One of a series of image-reboots by former Mouseketeers-turned-teen-pop-stars released almost simultaneously in 2002 (along with Justin's "Like I Love You" and Britney's "I'm a Slave 4 U"), "Dirrty" was the indisputable champ—an arrival song in every sense of the term. Featuring an over-the-top performance built on a durable high-energy hip-pop track, "Dirrty" was more of a statement than an actual song—a rejection of the seemingly squeaky-clean but reticently and cynically sexualized commodification of young females in the industry that, sadly, Aguilera's career has never quite been able to live up to. SC

61. Gwen Stefani, " What You Waiting For?" In a sexist industry, Gwen Stefani's larger-than-life image often eclipsed her famously disgruntled No Doubters, and it was the insecurity borne from those years that fueled her solo debut. A mélange of various psychological fears and disparate genre-splices, "What You Waiting For?" was a fitting opener to a solo stint that celebrated the consumerist pop culture of Tokyo's Harajuku district like the '80s era its star emulates. The song's impish "tick-tock" pre-chorus, driving club beat, and mesh of hook-buttressing guitar licks helped make it one of the hottest arrival songs of the decade. SC