People always ask: "When is Pitchfork gonna run a list of the top albums of the 1960s?" The answer today? Probably never. Not that we didn't consider it. It's just that when we sat down to map it all out, we found it would be more rewarding to approach the decade through its songs instead. After all, it was by and large a single-oriented era-- the long-player didn't really take over as a creative medium until the 60s had nearly come to an end. And besides, Revolver's ego is out of hand as it is.

So today, we kick off the largest feature in Pitchfork history, a five-day trip through the first full decade of the pop/rock era. From today until Friday, we'll roll out the 200 songs that most resonate with a generation too young to have experienced the decade firsthand, but old enough to know it had more to offer than "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction".

Of course, we recognize that even at 200 tracks, our list leaves off hundreds of other fantastic and amazing songs-- not to mention a handful of cuts from the Baby Boomer canon that our staff doesn't much care for (hello, "Light My Fire"!). But if nothing else, we at least limited the maximum number of tracks per artist to five so that, say, the 14th most popular Beach Boys song (probably "Vega-Tables" or some such) wouldn't bump off more deserving tracks from less iconic artists. So let's waste no time counting off the first 50...

[#200-151]
[#150-101]
[#100-061]
[#060-021]
[#020-001]
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200. The Kinks: "Sunny Afternoon"
(Ray Davies)
1966
Chart info: U.S. (#14), UK (#1)
Available on Face to Face

While already rightly revered as bratty garage rockers by the time of this track's release, the Kinks truly excelled when singer Ray Davies took a more observational, wry approach to songwriting-- and "Sunny Afternoon" is one of his wriest on record. As the song's ground-down, sadsack narrator, Davies sounds utterly exhausted by the task of telling his miserable tale, backed by a descending chromatic bassline that nearly flatlines by song's end. --Adam Moerder

199. Nina Simone: "Black Is the Color of My True Love's Hair"
(Traditional)
1964
Chart info: U.S. (N/A), UK (N/A)
Available on Anthology

The famous Celtic ballad begins with a lustful list of physical attributes-- a true love's hair, face, eyes, and hands-- but Nina Simone's voice is less than interested in the material world. She emits a spectral trill, as confident and crestfallen as a death-row inmate. Even the skeletal piano feels too heavy for Simone's vaporous devotion. --Alex Linhardt

198. Dionne Warwick: "Walk On By"
(Burt Bacharach/Hal David)
1964
Chart info: U.S. (#6), UK (#9)
Available on The Very Best of Dionne Warwick

People talk about "perfect pop" and I generally have no idea what they're talking about. "Walk On By" is perfect pop, though, in the strictest sense: not a hair is out of place, no smudged eyeliner, nothing to taint its inherent loveliness. Any Bacharach/Warwick collaboration is a pick hit to click, but this is the most famous for a reason. Poised to the brink of formality, the song moves with the utterly unhurried grace of a woman in a ball gown. Perfect composure is one way to keep the tears inside, after all. -- Jess Harvell

197. Charles Mingus: "Solo Dancer"
(Charles Mingus)
1963
Chart info: U.S. (N/A), UK (N/A)
Available on The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady

The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady is regularly cited as a masterpiece of jazz orchestration, but that hardly accounts for the sheer fury of Mingus' creativity. "Solo Dancer" is like a jazz diagram of the psyche or a chronology of the 20th century: a swarming assembly of neon alto, cracked trumpets, chromatic discord, and prolonged lyricism. --Alex Linhardt

196. Irma Thomas: "Time Is on My Side"
(Norman Meade/Jerry Ragovoy)
1964
Chart info: U.S. (N/A), UK (N/A)
Available on Sweet Soul Queen of New Orleans: The Irma Thomas Collection

Though Thomas is widely acknowledged as the Soul Queen of Nola, I've always thought she never got a fair shake (e.g. neither "Ruler of My Heart" nor "Don't Mess With My Man" made this list). The Rolling Stones eventually made this song a smash, but all they did was jack Thomas' steez in full, changing nary a note, save one small thing: They could never belt like her. -- Sean Fennessey

195. James Brown: "Night Train (Live at the Apollo)"
(Jimmy Forrest/Lewis Simpkins/Oscar Washington)
1963
Chart info: U.S. (#35), UK (N/A)
Available on Live at the Apollo

Sure, the official version (released in 1962) moves and grooves just fine, especially with Brown doing double duty on the mic and on the drums. But compared to what's on Live at the Apollo, it's doing the standing still. On the greatest stage in the world, Mr. Star Time goes up and down the eastern seaboard in record time, shouting out the stops the train ain't stopping at, while the band throws more and more coal into the engine. --David Raposa

194. The Foundations: "Build Me Up Buttercup"
(Michael d'Abo/Tony Macaulay)
1968
Chart info: U.S. (#3), UK (#2)
Available on Baby Now That You've Found Me

This is the stuff mixtapes are made of: an infectiously catchy melody that sugarcoats a protagonist's romantic plight, and lyrics that instantaneously connect with red-blooded love birds. The Foundations' career may have burned short and hot, but their pop chops and puppy-dog pathos remain timeless. --Adam Moerder

193. Johnny and June Carter Cash: "Jackson"
(Gaby Rogers)
1967
Chart info: U.S. (N/A), UK (N/A)
Available on The Essential Johnny Cash

About a haranguing wife that, in the fourth verse, transforms into a creature far more badass than her "big talkin'" husband, "Jackson" puts to song the time-honored tradition of doing crazy things to fix a crazy relationship. The story is almost as romantic as that of the two lovers who sing it. --Zach Baron

192. Alton Ellis: "I'm Still in Love With You"
(Alton Ellis)
1967
Chart info: U.S. (N/A), UK (N/A)
Available on Studio One Story

With Alton Ellis crying eternal affection above a gentle, stuttering riddim, this is the perfect starry-eyed Jamaican wedding song, right? Not quite. "You don't know how to love me, not even how to kiss me-- I just don't know why…" he sneaks in, slyly mixing tragedy in with the love-drunk refrain. Unrequited love has rarely seemed so tantalizing. --Ryan Dombal

191. The Cannonball Adderley Quintet: "Mercy, Mercy, Mercy"
(Joe Zawinul)
1966
Chart info: U.S. (#11), UK (N/A)
Available on Mercy, Mercy, Mercy: Live at "The Club"

It wasn't really recorded at "The Club"-- that was just a trick to get some publicity for a new venue on Chicago's South Side. Instead, Adderley got some friends together in the studio and plied them with drinks while the band cut this bit of surging, euphoric gospel. Every whoop, though, is true and from the heart. --Mark Richardson