Tunes Du Jour Presents 1996

Looking back at the music of 1996, what stands out isn’t just the diversity of sounds, but how confidently artists were breaking free from the constraints that had defined their predecessors. This was the year Oasis gave us “Wonderwall,” a song that somehow managed to be both anthemic and intimate, while across the Atlantic, The Smashing Pumpkins stripped away the grunge aggression for the wistful nostalgia of “1979.” The rock landscape was splintering in fascinating ways—Radiohead’s “High and Dry” hinted at the experimental evolution to come, Garbage fused electronic production with alternative rock attitude on “Stupid Girl,” and Marilyn Manson pushed industrial metal into the mainstream with “The Beautiful People.” These weren’t artists following a template; they were actively rewriting what their genres could be.

Hip-hop in 1996 was experiencing one of its most creative and commercially successful periods. 2Pac’s “California Love” brought West Coast rap to peak visibility, while Busta Rhymes announced himself as a force with the frenetic energy of “Woo Hah!! Got You All in Check.” Fugees demonstrated how hip-hop could incorporate soul, reggae, and pop sensibilities on “Ready Or Not,” and Blackstreet’s “No Diggity” created a template for R&B-rap fusion that would influence the genre for years to come. Even Coolio, riding high from previous success, was experimenting with different flows and production approaches. The genre wasn’t monolithic—it was a conversation between different regional scenes, production styles, and lyrical approaches.

The year also belonged to artists who defied easy categorization. Björk’s “Hyper-Ballad” merged electronic experimentation with raw emotional vulnerability in ways few pop artists would dare attempt. Beck’s “Where It’s At” was a postmodern collage that treated genre itself as raw material to be sampled and reassembled. Underworld’s “Born Slippy [Nuxx]” became an unlikely anthem, a nine-minute electronic track that captured something essential about late-night urban experience. These weren’t novelties—they were artists working at the boundaries of what popular music could accomplish, proving that experimental ambition and accessibility weren’t mutually exclusive.

Meanwhile, more traditional songcraft was producing some of its finest work. No Doubt’s “Don’t Speak” turned heartbreak into a massive pop-rock moment, while Mary J. Blige brought gospel-inflected power to “Not Gon’ Cry.” George Michael’s “Jesus To a Child” showed a mature artist at the height of his powers, and Tracy Chapman’s “Give Me One Reason” proved that blues-based simplicity could still cut through the noise. Even as production techniques grew more sophisticated and genre experimentation accelerated, these songs reminded listeners that a strong melody and honest emotion would never go out of style.

What makes 1996 particularly interesting is that it captured music in transition without feeling unstable. You had Britpop (Pulp’s class-conscious “Common People,” Manic Street Preachers’ working-class anthem “A Design For Life”), the evolution of alternative rock into more diverse forms, hip-hop’s golden age in full swing, and electronic music beginning to infiltrate the mainstream. The playlist of 1996 didn’t cohere into a single statement about where music was headed—and that was precisely the point. It was a year when artists had permission to explore, when audiences were willing to follow them into unexpected territory, and when the charts reflected genuine creative restlessness rather than calculated trends.

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Your (Almost) Daily Playlist: 9-29-24

Shortly after British rock band Suede released their debut album in the US in 1993, they encountered a trademark issue. An American lounge singer named Suzanne deBronkart had been performing under the name “Suede” since the 1980s and had already trademarked the name for musical performances in the US. She sued for trademark violation.

Two years later, the British band reluctantly agreed to use the name “The London Suede” for all their US releases and performances. This compromise allowed them to maintain their original name in other parts of the world while respecting the existing trademark in the United States.

This name change applied to all their album releases, merchandise, and concert promotions in the US throughout their career.

(The London) Suede’s Brett Anderson was born on this date in 1967. A handful of the band’s tracks are included on today’s playlist.

Tunes Du Jour Presents 1998

The year 1998 was a watershed moment for popular music. Emerging from the stylistic chaos and radical experimentation of the early/mid ’90s, the music of 1998 represented a culmination of daring artistic visions cohering into some of the most innovative, insightful, and flat-out infectious songs of the decade. Across genres, it was a year that shattered boundaries and solidified legends – a prolific melting pot of game-changing sounds destined to endure.

One of the standout tracks of the year was The Verve’s “Bitter Sweet Symphony,” a song that fused rock with sweeping orchestral arrangements, creating an anthemic yet melancholic sound that resonated with a wide audience. Its poignant lyrics and grandiose strings captured a sense of wistful longing and existential reflection that felt emblematic of the complicated late ’90s zeitgeist. Similarly, Radiohead’s “Karma Police” continued to explore the darker, more unsettling side of human experience with its haunting melody and cryptic lyrics, solidifying the band’s status as one of alt-rock’s most vital and cerebral forces.

The late ’90s also saw electronic music rapidly integrating into the mainstream pop landscape in visionary ways. Fatboy Slim’s “The Rockafeller Skank” was an explosively funky example of this trend, with its gritty, sample-heavy production and addictive dancefloor-ready beats. Stardust’s “Music Sounds Better With You” took a more soulful tack, combining classic house rhythms with a simple yet instantly catchy vocal hook to create an enduring dancefloor classic still beloved today. And the Norman Cook remix of Cornershop’s “Brimful of Asha” ingeniously blended Indian folk sounds with UK club vibes for a globe-spanning hit. For seekers of more atmospheric, boundary-pushing electronica, Massive Attack’s “Teardrop” provided a hypnotic, cinematic soundscape. This fertile era helped lay the groundwork for electronic music’s dominance in pop in the coming decades.

Hip-hop and R&B asserted their cultural force in 1998 as well, with few tracks as powerful as Lauryn Hill’s “Doo Wop (That Thing)” – an undeniable feminist anthem of self-respect powered by Hill’s dexterous rapping and soulful crooning. Her ability to fuse hip-hop bravado with uplifting, socially-conscious lyricism over neo-soul grooves earned her massive critical acclaim. Similarly future-leaning was Aaliyah’s “Are You That Somebody?” which saw the singer’s sultry vocals gliding over Timbaland’s percussive, synthetic production for an alluringly sleek sound that felt years ahead of its time. 

While maintaining their commercial clout, pop’s biggest icons weren’t afraid to musically reinvent themselves in 1998. Madonna’s “Ray of Light” saw the Queen of Pop shedding her known persona for a more spiritually inquisitive stance matched by the song’s trance-inflected electronica textures. And Janet Jackson’s “Together Again” honored loved ones lost to AIDS with its uplifting, gospel-tinged dance-pop sound tempering heavier subject matter.

In retrospect, the diverse brilliance of 1998’s musical landscape feels almost overwhelming. From fist-pumping dancefloor anthems to raw outpourings of soul, from guitar-driven songs of profundity to mindblowing productions that rewrote pop’s boundaries – the year’s music seamlessly bridged the underground and the mainstream in a way that felt thrillingly new. It was the sound of artists across genres at their hungriest and most inspired, creating the shared musical memories that still bond generations of fans together in nostalgic reverie decades later. For many, 1998 was simply the rarest of cultural moments – when everything intersected with perfection. 

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Your (Almost) Daily Playlist: 9-11-23

Richard Ashcroft’s original plan was to release the songs he wrote for Urban Hymns under his own name, but he got cold feet. Shortly after the album’s release The Verve broke up, briefly reforming in 2007.

The Verve’s Richard Ashcroft was born on this date in 1971. The singles issued from his band’s Urban Hymns are included on today’s playlist.

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