The 100 Best Dance Songs of All Time (100-1): Staff List

As a top 10 hit in the U.S. and a monster smash in Clean Bandit’s native UK, “Rather Be” was partially boosted by timing: the post-EDM wave made room for a classical-infused dance track to cross over to the mainstream, London co-writer Jimmy Napes was in the middle of a red-hot streak, and guest vocalist Jess Glynne was still an unknown entity in search of an anthem. Still, that violin hook would probably hit hard in any time period, and Glynne’s subtle emotion on the song sounds destined to soundtrack euphoric dance floors. — JASON LIPSHUTZ

The song that launched thousands of chill-out rooms, The Orb’s “Little Fluffy Clouds” is just as suited for zoning out on a beanbag as it is for twirling under lasers aimed at the dancefloor. Dubbed “armchair techno” for its slowed-down beats and lush textures, this summery 1990 classic pairs ambient synth work with an irresistible melodic groove. Singer-songwriter Rickie Lee Jones’ dreamy, stream-of-consciousness musings sampled throughout evoke its titular pillowy skies and sunshine vibes with a touch of nostalgia. — LILY MOAYERI

Anohni‘s quavering voice hovers, Sylvester-like, over the chugging synthesizers and chirpy horns that drive “Blind.” But the singer wasn’t initially enthusiastic about the track when they recorded it with Hercules & Love Affair founder Andy Butler in 2004. Anohni “always thought it was ‘curious,’” Butler said in 2008. Several years and two dozen versions later, the singer finally gave their stamp of approval, and Butler released “Blind” as Hercules and Love Affair’s 2008 debut single. Frankie Knuckles helmed the remix for the house-heads, revving up the tempo and stripping away some of the Euro-disco touches to reveal the dancefloor missile within. — ELIAS LEIGHT

In a moment when the dance world was transfixed by the young brothers of Disclosure and their reverence for classic house, Australian future bass producer Flume had the nerve (or dare we say, cheek) to invert those conventions. On his remix of “You & Me,” the duo’s garage-y third single from their debut LP, Eliza Doolittle’s vocals flip from playful to haunting as verses are vanquished, the chorus is cleaved and the BPM pitched wayyy down. The result is a remix that both freezes time while enduring on its own. — ZEL MCCARTHY

It was the right timing for Zedd’s strongest beats and strongest melodies to come together into one signature smash, certainly – arriving at the 2012 zenith of EDM’s pop gold rush, “Clarity” hit the Billboard Hot 100’s top 10 and capped a million peak hours on Obama-era dancefloors across the globe. But the difference-maker was always Foxes’ vocal, an impossibly tender and fraught rendering of an oft-incomprehensible lyric that turned “Why are you my clarity?” into a generational belt-along, and still demonstrates how much was lost when dance music turned into a star-power arms race later in the decade. — ANDREW UNTERBERGER

British duo The Future Sound of London brought emotion to the rave with the eerie, atmospheric “Papua New Guinea.” This 1991 track adds a sci-fi touch to the dancefloor, blending escalating breakbeats and a shuddering bassline — lifted from Meat Beat Manifesto’s “Radio Babylon,” which in turn borrowed from Boney M.’s 1978 “Rivers of Babylon” cover. A synth that sounds like a seagull call heightens the otherworldly feel, while a wordless female vocal sample softens the edges, bringing warmth and soul. Haunting and hypnotic, FSOL defined a moment in rave time. — L.M.

An influential Detroit techno pioneer in the ‘90s (under his own name as well as the Paperclip People and Innerzone Orchestra monikers), Carl Craig expanded his already omnivorous palette in the 21st century via immersive sound installations and ambitious classical music collaborations. “The Melody” (off his 2017 album Versus, a project that began on a Paris stage in 2008) is a puckish masterstroke of the latter, melding minimalist piano and downtempo to create a gorgeous IDM tango. — JOE LYNCH

David Guetta and Kelly Rowland’s “When Love Takes Over” was the launchpad for EDM’s own takeover. A neon-themed, Vegas-style marriage of dance music and pop, the French producer’s cascading piano riff and Rowland’s powerhouse vocal created a rush of euphoria. It also soared to No. 1 in 12 countries and onto the Hot 100, where it spent nine weeks in the summer of 2009, the first major smash of many that would establish Guetta as genre royalty. “Love” became the blueprint for the countless crossover collabs that followed, proving dance music wasn’t just for the dance floor – it was radio gold. — KRYSTAL RODRIGUEZ

Danish pop duo Junior Senior’s 2002 debut album is titled D-D-Don’t Don’t Stop the Beat — a phrase that both appears in their breakthrough smash “Move Your Feet” and describes the song’s relentless (and relentlessly cheery) ethos. “Move Your Feet” functions like a firehose of sunshine, with Junior Senior commanding their audience to never stop moving and that same audience chiming in that they will not; there’s a reason why this one is a Dance Dance Revolution classic, and it still keeps legs flailing decades later. — J. Lipshutz

In the near-half century since the four Sledge sisters of Sister Sledge released their most commercially successful album, We Are Family, its title track remains the group’s best-known. But with its circular structure and lyrics greeting us in medias res, “Lost In Music” abides as peak disco, inspiring those who find it to embrace unabashed hedonism and reject the confines of 20th century capitalism. While brimming with musical signatures from the era’s überproducer duo of Bernard Edwards and Nile Rodgers, nothing hides the glory of the Sledges’ mellifluous mirrorball harmonies. — ZEL MCCARTHY

From the moment Louie Vega debuted Ultra Naté’s “Free” at the 1997 Music Winter Conference in Miami, its message – “You’re freeeeee to do what you want to do” – became a mantra, and declaration of self-liberation. The house classic, built upon New York City duo Mood II Swing’s guitar-driven groove and Naté’s commanding vocals, traveled well outside club walls, topping dance charts worldwide and crossing into the Hot 100, where it hit No. 75 and spent 19 weeks. Over 20 years later, when dance floors re-opened post-lockdown, “Free” took on new meaning for a new generation of punters ready to reclaim the light. Truly timeless. – K.R.

The biggest hit by German outfit Real McCoy is also a template example of Eurodance, one of the endless variations of house music forged on the continent after the genre first crossed the Atlantic, and a sound defined by bass rhythms, shiny synths, chest thumping vocal hooks, rapped verses and a hard pop lean. The lyrics of the 1994 Dance Club Songs No. 1 focus on talking (“I talk talk, I talk to you,” rapper Olaf Jeglitza growls in the verses) and in fact the song’s entire structure is conversational, with Jeglitza volleying with a saccharine and undeniable chorus from studio singer Karin Kasar, who sings to the object of her affection (who she only meets in dreams her “dreams of love so true”) in a melody as deliriously sweet as the feelings of love and longing being expressed. — KATIE BAIN

The dirty garage-rockers of early-‘00s New York had been playing around at dance music’s kids table for a couple years, but “House of Jealous Lovers” proved they could hang with the grown-ups. With DFA head honcho (and LCD Soundsystem ingenieur) James Murphy pushing neo-no-wavers The Rapture to focus their freakout on the floor, “Lovers” pulsed like an ECG and weaponized more cowbell than “(Don’t Fear) The Reaper” and “Honky Tonk Women” combined, but still felt driven by the same thrashing live-band energy that made the New Rock Revolution. It wasn’t punk music mixed with disco, it was punk as disco. – A.U.

Popularized by legendary house DJ Ron Hardy at Chicago’s Muzic Box in the mid ‘80s, “Acid Tracks” not only created a subgenre of music but practically kickstarted the U.K. rave scene by the end of the decade. Phuture – a Chicago-based trio of DJ Pierre, Spanky and Herb J – created what would become known as acid house, by manipulating a Roland TB-303 bass line synthesizer to create a “squelchy” robotic sound that took tech-based music to new inorganic extremes. On “Acid Tracks,” which came to life with production and mixing help from Marshall Jefferson, those squelches curve, stab and all but trip over each other above a rushing, mechanized four-on-the-floor beat that could satiate (if not wear out) the most hardcore dancer over the course of 12 breathless minutes. — J. Lynch

By 2011, American dubstep (not to be confused with its U.K. counterpart) was already bubbling, but Skrillex’s remix of Benny Benassi’s “Cinema” helped send it to a screaming boil. He flipped the dreamy original into a full-throttle bass assault, complete with the seismic drops and robotic screeches that would become the genre’s signature. The track won Skrillex a Grammy for best remixed recording, and over a decade later, still rattles festival grounds, a time capsule from an era when dance music was loud, brash and absolutely relentless. — K.R.

Patrick Cowley and Sylvester were both openly gay artists who pioneered disco in the late ‘70s and died amid the devastating AIDS epidemic of the ‘80s – but not before leaving indelible and sublime marks on dance music history. Their co-credited “Do You Wanna Funk?,” released the year Cowley died, is a Hi-NRG staple that exemplifies the best of the genre: runaway-train tempos, percolating synths and crisp four-on-the-floor rhythms. But it soared onto Billboard’s Dance Club Songs chart, and the genre’s GOAT pantheon, thanks to Cowley’s deft flourishes — his synths twitter with nervous energy one moment then blast into the stratosphere the next (and that cowbell doesn’t get a moment’s rest) — and Sylvester’s falsetto wail, which is simultaneously heavenly and lascivious, masculine and feminine, and completely inimitable. — J. Lynch

While he’s better known for changing the course of rock, R&B and pop, Prince was an essential force in ‘80s dance music as well, particularly on 1982’s 1999 (and many of his B-sides released that decade). On that LP’s “D.M.S.R.” (which stands for “dance, music, sex, romance” – four of his favorite topics), the Minneapolis marvel pairs his nimble, funky guitar lines with a tireless mechanical beat and kooky, delirious synths, to create a robotic yet wild groove that runs for eight sweaty minutes. — J. Lynch

Fatboy Slim created a kaleidoscope of sound that’s hypnotic and repetitive, but still manages to shift tempos and styles in the dazzling display from 1998, the era in which the English producer born Norman Cook was crossing over hard into pop culture (and the Hot 100) with his litany of era-defining hits. Hailing from his classic You’ve Come A Long Way Baby, “The Rockafeller Skank” is built around the Lord Finesse-sampled phrase “right about now, the funk soul brother,” repeated over a staggering array of musical styles that include an insistent drumbeat from the Just Brothers’ “Sliced Tomatoes” and a surf guitar from Duane Eddy’s “Twistin’ ‘N’ Twangin,’” among other samples. Cook basically Frankensteins together the song from various elements, while adding his own flair to create the big beat essential. — MELINDA NEWMAN

After working with disco remix maestro Tom Moulton in the late 1970s, Grace Jones bought a ticket to the Bahamas in 1980 to try her luck with “the Compass Point All Stars,” a studio band out of Compass Point Studios that included the famed Jamaican rhythm section Sly & Robbie, Uziah Thompson on additional percussion, Barry Reynolds on guitar, and Wally Badarou on keyboards. 

The Compass Point All Stars “fit me like a bloody glove,” Jones wrote in her 2015 memoir. “We fell into a pure, instinctive groove.” “Everything was one take,” Sly Dunbar noted in 2008 — “that didn’t need hours and hours of preparation.”

Many club hits thump, laying down a steady barrage of percussion to keep dancers constantly engaged. In contrast, 1981’s “Pull Up to the Bumper” oozes across the dancefloor — it’s slow compared to disco, around 109 beats per minute, but awash in gluey, devil-may-care bass and nearly cartoonish synthesizers. Jones’ commanding vocals offer either expert advice on how to maneuver a car into a narrow parking spot — essential knowledge for her New York-based fans — or a detailed how-to manual for a romantic partner. The Compass Point All Stars “set up the groove and worked out the beats,” Jones wrote in 2015. “I got in the chariot.” — E.L.

Defining the darker side of electronic sound, the erratic genius of Britain’s Aphex Twin hits a menacingly cool peak on this iconic 1999 single. His catalog ranges from introspective melodies to abrasive digital experiments, and “Windowlicker” lands perfectly in between. It’s haunting and heavy, sinister yet sexy. Full of Aphex Twin’s signature glitches and complex IDM musings, it mixes sensual moans with screeching chirps, rhythm-shattering sound hiccups and head-banging bass lines before finishing in a fuzzy burst of industrial chaos. The music video, directed by frequent visual collaborator Chris Cunningham, is just as classic, simultaneously hilarious and horrifying. Daft Punk even named it as an influence on their Discovery productions, with Daft’s Thomas Bangalter in 2001 calling “Windowlicker” “neither a purely club track nor a very chilled-out, down-tempo relaxation track.” — KAT BEIN

Baauer‘s viral 2013 hit might have been playful, with the Philadelphia-born producer colliding a woozy nitrous ballon synth, a sample declaring “con los terroristas!” and a command to “do the Harlem Shake,” but its five week run at No. 1 on the Hot 100 was a serious streak that reflected a permanent shift in how chart data was factored. The song arrived to the apex position the same week Billboard started incorporating YouTube streaming data into the chart’s methodology. And so because seemingly everyone on the internet simultaneously decided to make goofball videos of themselves and their friends dancing to the song, the earworm blazed up the chart, becoming the first Hot 100 hit to reach No. 1 via this new data set. And beyond statistics, the song, now era-defining, was just fun.

“Every day there was some new crazy thing happening with it,” Paul Devro, who signed the track to Jeffree’s, a sublabel of Diplo’s Mad Decent imprint, told Billboard in 2019. “We were trying to do a music video, and then it was like ‘Why are we even making a music video when there are millions of them already out there?’” — K.B.

Built on one of the sturdiest and most buoyant piano riffs in house history – no small feat, that – Alison Limerick’s biggest anthem finds the kind of strength in togetherness that almost feels like she’s singing from the perspective of the dancefloor itself. “Come on in, come on in, come on in” the British vocalist insists – and when she’s got luminaries no less hallowed than David Morales and Frankie Knuckles (who both worked on the song) helping her make her case, there’s pretty much no way you’re not gonna follow her down.  – A.U.

Despite how intricately the duo’s legacy and identities have been analyzed and mythologized, Daft Punk’s first US-charting single is best defined by its lucidity: a robot voice power loop chanting “around the world” over an architecturally layered synth pastiche. “Around the World” sounds like a dot matrix printer version of the duo’s beloved Chicago house, and director Michel Gondry’s tightly choreographed music video buoyed the song as part of the then-up-and-coming electronica genre’s transatlantic journey, enduring as the rare visual explication of a dance record that actually enhances its aural legibility. — Z.M.

“Out with the old and in with the new” declares what sounds like a droid huffing helium on Cybotron’s “Clear,” an early electro lodestar that made good on that lyrical promise. Under the direction of Detroit techno godfather Juan Atkins and Richard Davis, “Clear” takes a page from Afrika Bambaataa and Kraftwerk (referencing but not sampling the latter’s “The Hall of Mirrors”) on a meticulous-yet-bananas techno track. The alien groove, otherworldly synth stabs and crisp 808s are trailblazing enough, but toss in that ceaselessly ascending and descending synth loop (which Missy Elliott brought to No. 3 on the Hot 100 via the Timbaland-produced “Lose Control”) and you have a perspective-altering song that still sounds ahead of the curve. — J. Lynch

When Michael Jackson debuted his signature moonwalk in 1983, no one could have predicted the impact it would have on global culture. The King of Pop is an inspiration to dreamers around the world, but two Parisian producers, in particular, rode that wave of imagination to craft their own era-defining work. “D.A.N.C.E.” is Justice’s love letter to MJ’s mind-boggling talent, with an instantly recognizable disco melody and a kids’ chorus interpolating a handful of his most iconic lyrics. (“You were such a PYT/ Catching all the lights/ Just easy as A B C/ That’s how you make it right,” goes the tune.) The music video, directed by fellow French artist So Me, captures the spirit of mid-2000s hipster culture with a clever morphing T-shirt motif as the band’s members Xavier de Rosnay and Gaspard Augé walk around the back halls of a venue looking tres cool. It’s one of the most joyous moments in Justice’s catalog, a flagship song that never fails to light up a dancefloor and stands up to its inspiration’s pervasive influence. — KAT BEIN

After her early years fronting a late-Britpop shoegaze outfit and before laying down the record that became a U.K. and gay club hit that became a global meme 22 years later, Sophie Ellis-Bextor spent a summer in Ibiza (or so it sounds), teaming with Italian DJ/producer Spiller for the quintessentially Balearic “Groovejet.” Over loops of a chopped-up disco sample and airplane whoosh effects, Ellis-Bextor’s voice cuts like glass, complementing a hypnotic rhythm that seems borne of the West Med. Why does it feel so good?, indeed. — Z.M.

Two legends walk into a room and make a catchy nu-disco track about yet another legend. A-Trak and Armand Van Helden are two dance production heavyweights, and their superduo Duck Sauce stormed the indie dance scene with a 2010 track that would be a novelty if it wasn’t so damn brilliant. They take an infectious loop and pepper it with the titular vocal hook simply name-dropping the EGOT icon, proving that dance music is at its best when it’s simple, straightforward and delightfully unserious. Why Barbra Streisand? Why not? It didn’t hurt that the music video also made a big splash, with star cameos from Kanye West (A-Trak was his tour DJ at the time), Pharrell Williams, Andre 3000, Todd Terry, Chromeo (singer Dave-1 being A-Trak’s brother), DJ Mehdi, Diplo, Questlove of The Roots and more. — K. Bein

It’s highly unlikely that esteemed songwriter/composer Jimmy Webb envisioned the dancefloor when he penned the 1968 heartbreak song, “MacArthur Park.” But ten years later, Donna Summer’s powerhouse vocals brought “MacArthur Park” to life in a way that made it feel destined for disco. Summer delivers the anguish of the track with unmatched intensity, while Giorgio Moroder and Pete Bellotte’s production, which thrillingly breaks wide open around the two-minute mark, transforms it with a driving dance beat and groundbreaking studio innovations. The “MacArthur Park Suite” medley, which also includes bits of “One of a Kind” and “Heaven Knows,” stretches to nearly 18 minutes, creating a disco epic. — L.M.

With a message of empowerment and perseverance, Whitney Houston continues the legacy of Gloria Gaynor on “It’s Not Right But It’s Okay.” While the original showcased the power of producer Rodney “Darkchild” Jerkins amid his quest to redefine R&B, the remix made legends of the duo known as Thunderpuss for reintroducing America’s greatest singer as a club queen. The record enjoyed its most prolonged embrace in gay clubs, as much because of Houston’s high A-flat in the bridge as the record’s optimism at the dawn of a new century. — Z.M.

It’s easy to forget that even before the early 2010s EDM explosion, dance singles could emerge at the annual industry confab known as WMC (back when it was niche) and go on to dominate radio (at least in the U.K.). Such is the legend of The Shapeshifters’ debut single. Inspired by and named for the then-wife of the duo’s Simon Marlin, an instrumental “Lola’s Theme” began its metamorphosis into an anthem, courtesy of a transformational topline by London-based session and touring vocalist Janet Ramus (a.k.a. Cookie), becoming a vocal house staple.— Z.M.

Before Group Therapy became Above & Beyond’s signature residency, radio show and brand at the epicenter of its global trance family, it was the outfit’s 2011 sophomore artist album, and “Sun & Moon” its lead single. Shining brightly with filtered atmospherics, pulsating synths, and plentiful emotion, the record embodies the succinct power of trance. Those who would dare dismiss the song’s glory as a function of lights and lasers can hear the trio’s 2014 unplugged tour, as immortalized on their album, Acoustic, where the tune is somehow even more emotional, and just as beautiful. — Z.M.

The Irish duo’s eponymous 2017 debut album mined several strains of early ’90s dance music, from Balearic to rave to prog-house — and with its era-indebted breakbeats, album highlight “Glue” is no exception. But while the woozy jungle track harkens back to key cuts of yesteryear, its swirl of sounds yields a heady end product that’s modern and entirely Bicep’s own. — ERIC RENNER BROWN

“Cola” was born out of a session in London in February 2017, where Liverpool-born duo CamelPhat played several tracks for the English singer Elderbrook, including the song’s initial demo. “There was a lot of space on the record for vocals,” he told Billboard. “I wanted to keep it going, keep it pumping, so [my delivery] is quicker than [usual]. I’m almost whispering with my vocals over a really upbeat track, which is a weird thing to have done.” Weird, but effective — “Cola” has earned nearly a billion global streams, according to Luminate. The track is bass-heavy and lean, ready for a scrap. But the effect is softened with a buoyant, hummable refrain, like a bare-knuckled boxer flashing a dazzling smile. — E.L.

It took producer and multi-instrumentalist Eric Kupper roughly 20 minutes to come up with a sketch of “The Whistle Song” — the soothing wash of synthesizer, spindly drums, and spring-loaded bass line. Nursing a glass of scotch, Kupper drew on several unimpeachable sources: Logic’s 1990 single “The Warning,” which he heard Knuckles play in a DJ set, Erik Satie’s “Gymnopedie No. 1,” an achingly beautiful solo piano piece from the late 19th century, and Bobby Konders’ “The Poem,” an underground house anthem, especially big in New York. 

Knuckles came to Kupper’s studio soon after, riding the high of a recent major label deal with Virgin Records. At the end of their session, Kupper played “The Whistle Song” demo, and Knuckles liked it enough to incorporate it into his sets at the club the Sound Factory. He quickly decided to include it on his upcoming album, 1991’s Beyond The Mix, as well, bringing in a live flute player and adding some additional strings. “The more I listened to it, it kept saying so much,” Knuckles recalled at Red Bull Music Academy in 2011 “There were no words I could put to it, no lyrics you could put to it. My manager kept saying, ‘This is really beautiful, now you need to write a song to it.’” But Knuckles refused: “Voices are not needed here,” he explained. “All you have to do is close your eyes and then open your mind and it’ll tell you exactly what it’s saying.” — E.L.

The remixer on speed dial for many a ’90s music star, Armand Van Helden was already dance royalty by the time he dropped his 1996 debut album, having clocked hits including 1994’s “Witch Doktor” and his instantly iconic, fantastically hectic edit of Tori Amos’ “Professional Widow.” But “The Funk Phenomena” — the opening track from Old Skool Junkies — found the Boston-born house don in a slightly mellower (read: lower BPM) mood, with the windy, stoney track incorporating samples like Method Man & Redman’s “How High” (via the looped title phrase), melting together funk, hip-hop and house and altogether dripping with the kind of swaggering east coast cool that’s always been Van Helden’s signature. — K. Bain

Even if you only know three electronic dance music songs total, Darude’s “Sandstorm” is undoubtedly one of them. The Finnish producer’s synthesizer may have been touched by God the day he plucked these iconic notes out of the ether: Released in 1999, its simple yet genius arrangement takes one hard-hitting melody and loops it to high-energy heaven. This song conjures visions of warehouse ravers in JNCO jeans and Oakley shades fist-pumping glow sticks until 6:00 a.m., and it’s so easy to love that it transcends generations, remaining a favorite in internet meme culture and sports venues. — K. Bein

“Silence” — the 1999 song by Canadian ambient/electronic duo Delerium — was in and of itself a fine piece of music, one that wound along on a ’90s electronica production and vocals from Canadian queen Sarah McLachlan. But did it really matter before a rising Dutch producer named Tiësto got his hands on it?

Perhaps — but with his edit, Tijs Verwest didn’t just double the song’s length, he transformed it into a cinematic epic, 12 minutes of trance-world holy matter. The song’s slow burn build contains flourishes that lean into the genre’s psy side, over which he layers McLachlan’s vocal, polished to a high shine and stunning in its isolated moments. The whole thing breaks wide open at the seven minute mark, with the producer building a song that somehow feels not only big but structural, a soaring temple of trance that devotees of the genre — which reached countless new listeners via the remix’s success — were only too happy to worship inside of. — K. Bain

As dance music struggled to find commercial footing following the disco backlash, Shannon’s 1983 single “Let the Music Play” planted a flag for a technology-modified, youth-oriented and effervescent rebirth for the genre. In contract to Shannon’s earthy, sweet and understated vocals, freestyle pioneer Chris Barbosa (the song’s co-producer and co-writer) emphasizes the inorganic: reverb-soaked 808 rhythms, chirping chords and playfully mechanized hooks. That sonic juxtaposition was a commercial and creative win; not only did “Let the Music Play” top Dance Club Songs and hit No. 8 on the Hot 100, but it kicked off the freestyle scene in NYC and catapulted dance-pop back into cultural relevance. — J. Lynch

It doesn’t sound like a metaphor: When Réjane “Reggie” Magloire and Rose Marie Ramsey proselytize about the savior behind the decks, you don’t doubt that his musical selections made the difference between life and death. Indeep’s signature post-disco hit spawned catchphrases still found in the DNA of dance music decades later because its magnetic groove struts it like it talks it, tapping into the lifeforce of everything that gets us past boredom and broken hearts and gets us up, gets us on, gets us down. And when it comes the DJ’s time to preach, he’s got a better pitch than the overwhelming majority of would-be messiahs: “There’s not a problem that I can’t fix/ ‘Coz I can do it in the mix.” – A.U.

By 2012, EDM was in full swing, and supertrio Swedish House Mafia had the scene on lock with its stadium-sized hits. On top was how the star producers decided to go out together, announcing their breakup in 2012. Their farewell was via a (then-) final single, “Don’t You Worry Child.” It offers words of comfort – “Don’t you worry, child/ See, heaven’s got a plan for you” – and even when played to a sea of ravers, such words have rarely felt so personal. The fittingly bittersweet send-off reverberated through the culture and the charts alike, peaking at No. 6 on the Hot 100. SHM have since reunited, but “Worry” remains an all-time classic – proof that there’s as much power in goodbyes as hellos. — K.R.

Producers Diplo and Switch had each dabbled in baile funk and dancehall before forming Major Lazer, notably as M.I.A.’s early collaborators. While “Pon de Floor” traces its rhythmic ancestry to each of those genres, extended percussion riddims, cheekily pitch-altered vocals and ample laser sounds (naturally) all refract its DNA. Production kisses from Afrojack and sporadic name IDs by Vybz Kartel make for a truly global record — and two years after its release, also made for an inspired choice by Beyoncé as the base of her own anthem, “Run The World (Girls).” — Z.M.

Made in a single evening by Italian producer Roberto Concina, known globally as Robert Miles, the trance record “Children” was first released in Europe without its now-iconic piano element. The song was basically ignored upon first release, initially selling just 67 copies, until a group of label reps at a club in Miami it and eagerly signed it to a new distribution deal. By the time of its second push, Miles had laced the sweeping composition with its haunting piano melody, and it became a major throughout Europe and in the U.S., where it reached No. 21 on the Hot 100 in the summer of 1996, helping spread the gospel of trance to new ears through MTV and radio. “Children” was also famously played at the end of many DJ sets in this era in an effort to calm down club kids as they left venues, as Miles said he wanted to help reduce car accidents among young people driving home from clubs. The producer himself passed away from cancer in 2017, at the age of 47. — K. Bain

Though perhaps not as famous as some of his DJ contemporaries (like Frankie Knuckles), Marshall Jefferson’s claim of creating the original house music anthem, aptly named “The House Music Anthem” (and often referred to by its alternate and equally appropriate title, “Move Your Body”) remains undisputed. From its opening trip down a piano staircase to its back half’s 16-bar a cappella section, Jefferson’s signature record plays the changes and your ears as it extends an invitation to put four on the floor. Even across the tune’s instrumentation modulation, there is no ambiguity in its rhythm or message. House music isn’t just body music; it’s salvation. — Z.M.

How about a video featuring dancing ladies in aerobics gear? A perfect Steve Winwood sample? Booming four-on-the-floor bass beats? This breakout smash for Swedish production master Eric Prydz has everything one could want in a 2004 cross-continental dance banger. It’s a bright, bubbly and beloved anthem reminiscent of a sparklier time in dance music. If it sounds notably different from other Prydz productions, that may be because it was actually inspired by a live edit loop that Daft Punk’s Thomas Bangalter and fellow Frenchman DJ Falcon used to rinse in their sets as duo Together; fans loved this live mix, but when Ministry of Sound asked Together to release it as a single, they turned down the offer. Prydz recreated its magic, with Winwood loving the track’s use of his late-’80s hit “Valerie” so much he actually re-recorded the vocal for Prydz’ track. “Call On Me” was released by Ministry in 2004 and helped kickstart the Swedish producer’s esteemed career. (So, in a way, this production is a French Touch classic, too.) A longtime white whale in Prydz’s live shows, he played it out for the first time in 20 years (!) earlier this month during a set at The Concourse Project in Austin, Texas. — K. Bain

Techno godfather Kevin Saunderson has shepherded his group Inner City through various incarnations over the decades. One constant, however, is the affirmational ethos of the group’s signature record. With a certified diva vocal of assuredly layered harmonies from singer Paris Grey, “Good Life” has lived well on the charts and in TV commercials. It’s been adapted by brass bands busking on subway platforms, and by wedding bands as processional music for betrothing house heads. An equal blend of house and techno, it demonstrates why both genres endure as two of America’s greatest artforms. — Z.M.

Yes, “Don’t Leave Me This Way” existed before Thelma Houston’s take on the 1975 original by Harold Melvin & The Blues Notes, but arguably only technically: It was Houston who brought it life, who gave it wings, who made it disco. While her version features a beefed-up bassline and a larger swirl of strings, it is Houston’s vocal delivery — traversing lust, longing and pleas not only not to leave but to “come satisfy the need in me” — that make it one of the most soulful and enduring anthems of the era. Grammy voters agreed, awarding Houston with best female R&B vocal performance in 1978. — K. Bain

The legendary German electronic group’s eighth studio LP Computer World dealt with a question that would remain pertinent: Will computers take over our lives? The single “Computer Love” – guided by a gorgeous melody, later lifted by Coldplay for 2005 single “Talk” – is a bleak rumination on the lack of connection behind a screen, a paean to human intimacy amidst emerging digital frontiers: “Another lonely night/ Stare at the TV screen/ I don’t know what to do.” Four decades on, the song is still a staple of Kraftwerk’s live performances, and the answer to its central question remains uncertain. — T.S.

Chicago’s Lil’ Louis knows how to build — and build, and build. That’s the core of “French Kiss,” where sparse loops gain their intensity through repetition. A blueprint for trance, the 1989 track channels the orgasmic energy of Donna Summer’s “Love to Love You,” particularly in its infamous slowdown midpoint, pushing the boundaries of decency. But then it pulls back, before gradually ramping up the tempo once more. It’s tantric dancefloor sex, equal parts sensual and naughty. Whether you’re more primal or prudish, the greatness of “French Kiss” is simply undeniable. – L.M.

Although this “most satisfying dance jam,” as the great Larry Flick wrote in this publication in 1997, “was not delivered by a card-carrying citizen of clubland, with “Together Again” Janet Jackson earned permanent resident status. Even better, with this particular club anthem, Ms. Jackson cemented her gay icon stature: As a tribute to her friends lost to AIDS, released at an inflection point when the virus was becoming less fatal but was still highly stigmatized, the celestial synth harps, housey beat and final-verse key change all say it’s all going to be alright. – Z.M.

Built on samples of Chicago’s unlikely 1979 dancefloor excursion “Street Player,” The Bucketheads (Kenny “Dope” Gonzalez under one of his many aliases) transformed a bright brass riff into a house music anthem with “The Bomb.” Its euphoric horn blasts, chopped vocal loop and crunchy drums coalesce into a funky retro groove bridging disco and house, dance music’s past and future. Rinsed by DJs stateside and overseas, “The Bomb!” peaked at No. 49 on the Hot 100 and climbed international charts. “It’s deep to know that your music is traveling everywhere,” Gonzalez told Billboard back in 1995. “The Bomb!” exploded once more when Pitbull dropped those punchy horns (sampled via Nicola Fasano & Pat-Rich’s “75, Brazil Street”) into in his own 2009 hit, “I Know You Want Me (Calle Ocho).” Decades after its release, the original is still one of the most-played tracks in Ibiza clubs, and its funky DNA lives on, sampled (and loved) by new generations. — K.R.

One of the most iconic songs of the early 2000s, this mind-numbing electro banger is built from two Gary Numan samples (namely “M.E.” and “This Wreckage”) but the English big beat duo took those two brooding synth-pop tunes and injected them with 5,000 CCs of party kid imbecile juice. The result is a delightfully dumb sing-along so inanely awesome that it’s actually brilliant. Paired with a clanging house beat and one of the best vocal hooks to scream at a party ever, “Where’s Your Head At” is a rallying cry for anyone who’s ever been young, dumb and ready to shake the world into dust. Once its in you, part of that spirit never dies. — K. Bein

To understand “Strings Of Life” as one of early techno’s defining moments, it’s first necessary to appreciate the audacity of referring to synthesizers as strings, and how a banger works without a bassline. Made in Detroit by Derrick May, one of the Belleville Three, techno’s founding fathers, the track found its biggest audience in the U.K., where it took on new life as part of a burgeoning rave culture. Therein lies its true genius: music created by a human using machines, bringing people in search of transcendent moments together on dancefloors. — Z.M.

If you’re going to build a pop single around one keyboard hook and one vocal refrain, may as well make ‘em both once-in-a-lifetimers. Singer Judith Ann Pronk’s “Do you think you’re better off alone?” questioning manages to be challenging, comforting and absolutely devastating, an inquiry so loaded with meaning and feeling that you feel like you’d need 100 times longer than the song’s three-and-a-half minutes to properly answer. But it’s that laser-show synth riff that can pierce the hardest of hearts and enliven the most leaden of dancing shoes, immortalizing Dutch outfit Alice Deejay’s lone hit as the “Für Elise” of the trancefloor. – A.U.

The lead single from The Prodigy’s third studio album The Fat of the Land, 1996’s “Firestarter” was less of a lit fuse than a powder keg ready to blow everything to smithereens. The Essex trio straddled the equally noisy worlds of rave and rock perfectly, and the titular, maniacal “Firestarter” – played by vocalist Keith Flint – has Joker energy in his lust for chaos: “I’m the trouble starter, punkin’ instigator,” he growls in the song’s menacing opening gambit. The striking black-and-white music video saw Flint stalk a disused underground station in London, and was subsequently banned by the BBC after it was shown on Top of the Pops and supposedly terrorized children. — THOMAS SMITH

The biggest song from Skrillex and Diplo’s Jack Ü project was simultaneously peak- and post-EDM. Arriving with the swell of the era, the song jettisoned its standard maximalist conventions: Instead, the duo spend more than a minute letting “Where Are Ü Now” unfurl, giving ample space for the vocal from Justin Bieber before introducing a spare, syncopated beat followed by another Bieber vocal the guys pitched up so high that a lot of listeners thought they were sampling a dolphin whistle. A major crossover hit and streaming juggernaut, the song reflected Skrillex and Diplo’s continued pushing on the boundaries of 2010s dance music — and served as a moment of salvation for Bieber, who, after a rocky period in his personal life, rode the song’s success to a new era of professional achievement with his own EDM-inflected 2015 album Purpose. — K. Bain

You can trace a direct line from Moby’s 1991 “Go” to “Porcelain,” the track that catapulted him to mainstream fame in 1999. On the version of “Go” that lit up dancefloors Moby replayed Angelo Badalamenti’s iconic strings and piano from “Laura Palmer’s Theme” in Twin Peaks. It was a stroke of genius on Moby’s part, which he enhanced with key rave elements and his inherent feel for arrangement. By alternating between jittery, high-energy beats with an infectious piano riff and more somber, emotional strings, Moby masterfully plays with the dancefloor’s mood. – L.M.

Under its warmth and sweetness, Candi Staton’s 1976 disco classic tells a darker tale: In the 2024 PBS doc Disco: Sound of a Revolution (an absolute must watch), the Alabama-born singer reveals that she wrote the song after her abusive ex-husband threatened to kill her, holding her out over the 20-story balcony of their Las Vegas hotel room. Staton talked him out of it by telling him the hotel was owned by the mafia and he would therefore face repercussions, after which he pulled a gun and threatened to shoot her. He didn’t, and she eventually left the relationship, writing the song about the experience, a backstory that gives vital context to lyrics like “Say, ‘I’m gonna leave’ a hundred times a day/ It’s easier said than done/ When you just can’t break away” and makes its “I’m gonna love me, for the rest of my days” redemption arc even more powerful.

“To make a long story short, disco — it freed me, it saved me,” Staton says in the doc. For her the statement was literal, but the millions of people who found their own strength, freedom and salvation in the genre can certainly relate. — K. Bain

Blondie famously received plenty of s–t from the CBGB crowd upon releasing “Heart of Glass” in 1979, as they were accused by their punk/new wave compatriots of “selling out” for daring to dabble in a little disco. Joke’s on them! Blondie, freshly enamored with Kraftwerk and Giorgio Moroder, sent a trigger pulse from a CR-78 into some synths, set the band to a 7/4 beat (disco is 4/4, aCtUaLlY), and laid down vocals that gave apathy its own place on the Kinsey scale. And thus, the world was given a new Hot 100-topping form of dance-rock. — A.D.

Minimal techno never sounded so maximal: Ahead of his time, New York-born teenager Joey Beltram crafted a track that remains timeless, with dark, pulsating beats synced to the listener’s heartbeat. With “Energy Flash,” Beltram — later namechecked by Daft Punk on “Teachers” — created the ultimate showcase of how to push Roland’s iconic drum machines to their limits. The track’s urgent percussive energy demands release, which it finds in the echoing chants of “ecstasy, ecstasy.” With two re-releases in recent years, “Energy Flash” still sounds as fresh as the day it was first unleashed. – L.M.

To say Italian pop-house outfit Black Box’s legacy is complicated would be an understatement: The collective’s string of club hits, many of which defined the early-’90s Eurodance sound at its biggest, is forever associated with its cruelly absurd erasure of vocalist Martha Wash and her subsequent (successful) legal pursuit of credit. “Everybody Everybody” wouldn’t be worth much without her, though the sample of Cameo’s Larry Blackmon saying “ow” is undeniably fun, and the Wurlitzer-esque synth organs are identifiable without being overbearing. Still, it’s Wash’s burn-the-house-down performance that elevates the otherwise kitschy to something iconic. — Z.M.

Before adopting the Green Velvet alias, Curtis Jones experimented under the moniker Cajmere, and released the unforgettable “Percolator” in 1992. The minimalism of the enduring floor-filler might seem almost laughable, but it marks a pivotal moment in dance music, arguably setting the stage for ghetto house. “Percolator,” in its third iteration, features a militant drum pattern, an insistent alarm tone, and Jones’ distinct, repeated declaration of “It’s time for the percolator,” all of which bring a rigid energy to the track that makes you want to werk. – L.M.

No song sounds more perpetually from the future than “Rockit.” Known as the hit that introduced scratching to the masses, the instrumental still feels as freaky and cold and intoxicating as it did when Herbie Hancock (alongside bassist/producer Bill Laswell and turntablist GrandMixer D.ST) first threw this gauntlet into the pop music landscape via 1983’s aptly named Future Shock. Its elements align like a Venn diagram of radical expression in popular sound: distorted guitar riffs, whiplashed scratching, mechanized and tribal percussion, and, of course, the alien groove of Herbie’s synth melody. He taps syncopated rhythms and minor tonalities for a result that’s unsettling yet catchy, chaotic yet disciplined, and all tension — a lack of resolution that we can only keep seeking on the dance floor. – A.D.

The Second Summer of Love was a defining moment for U.K. culture, with illegal drug-fueled raves capturing a generation of youngsters sick of over-produced pop and a decade of Tory government. Orbital’s heavenly 1989 debut single was an integral song in the mix, its golden synth riff hammering its way into the very DNA of clubgoers through increasingly hypnotic repetition. When the duo were invited to perform the song on Top of The Pops, they used their spot to punk the show by refusing to mime and protesting prime minister Margaret Thatcher’s much-maligned poll tax policy (ultimately her undoing as premier). The Kent duo were banned from the show for six years. — T.S.

A heady blend of hip-hop and house, this 1989 club staple became a global smash with its seemingly cheesy yet ultimately chantable title lyric, “Pump Up the Jam.” Technotronic’s Belgium-based producer Joe Bogaert tapped another dancefloor classic, Marshall Jefferson’s “Move Your Body,” to serve as the track’s foundation. But it’s the androgynous, sexy Ya Kid K’s rapping and singing – both delivered with almost sneering confidence – which elevate the song, propelling it to being one of the most memorable dance anthems of the Jock Jams era and beyond. – L.M.

Like an entire season of The Deuce wrapped into one single, “More, More, More” brought exhibitionist ecstasy to the dancefloor in a defining moment of late-‘70s decadence. But the lone hit for porn star-turned-disco diva Andrea True didn’t sound smutty — it was seductive, but also strangely innocent in its sighing coos and perky horn rolls. It’s not surprising that it would another similarly irresistible but significantly more PG-rated top 10 hit decades later, one that proved that the after-hours perennial worked just as well in the sunshine. — A.U.

2011’s Drive was a sleek, dangerous crime flick that saw Ryan Gosling’s unnamed protagonist cruising down L.A. highways as he became entangled in the city’s seedy underbelly. Kavinsky’s brooding “Nightcall” was chosen to soundtrack the movie’s opening credits, and the scene became an iconic union of music and cinema. A cast of French Touch greats also have their fingerprints on the brooding song – Daft Punk’s Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo (production), SebastiAn (mixing), Justice’s Xavier de Rosnay (a beloved remix) – and a decade later, “Nightcall” even featured in the closing ceremony of the Paris Olympics 2024 with a new version helmed by French indie-pop heroes Phoenix and Belgian vocalist Angèle. Magnifique. — T.S.

Eurodance’s critical reputation has long been spotty, but snobbery didn’t stop this border-busting banger. The 1993 track hit the top 10 in a number of European countries, including an eight-week stay at No. 1 in the trio’s native Italy, and in early 1995 “Rhythm of the Night” would peak at No. 11 on the Hot 100. The song’s endless hooks – the synth riff, that massive chorus – taps into universal urges to dance, and transcended cultures and languages, particularly in the case of a hilarious misheard DJ request from one Dominican radio listener who wanted to hear the song with the lyrics, “Are those Reebok or Nike?”. — T.S.

Anita Ward was working as a substitute teacher in Memphis when she recorded “Ring My Bell,” a fizzy disco delight that became her only major hit. (But what a hit: the song spent two weeks at No. 1 on the Hot 100 in the spring of 1979.) The track was written by Frederick Knight, who had minor success in the early 1970s with the famed soul outfit Stax Records. Knight initially penned “Ring My Bell” for the young singer Stacy Lattisaw, envisioning a song about teenagers chatting on the phone. This origin story is almost impossible to believe after listening to Ward’s finished product with its bawdy single entendre: “You can ring my bell, anytime, anywhere.” The instrumentation is pleasingly plush, with a “whoop”-ing sound accenting the first beat, guitars pawing around the edges of the drums, and a chiming motif that pairs perfectly with Ward’s flirty hook. — E.L.

Arriving a few years before EDM began selling out stadiums, “I Remember” was the calm before the storm. Compared to its successors’ peak-time energy, the deadmau5 and Kaskade collaboration lures its listeners through a dreamlike atmosphere, guided by Haley Gibby’s porcelain vocals. At nearly ten minutes long, it’s meditative and slow-burning, a progressive house odyssey that’s more about the journey than the drop. “I Remember” became the duo’s second No. 1 hit (following “Move for Me”) on the Dance/Mix Show Airplay chart, and proved their undeniable chemistry. When deadmau5 and Kaskade reunited in 2022 as Kx5, their Grammy-nominated LP created new anthems, but “I Remember” remains their most timeless, a potent dose of strobe-lit nostalgia. — K.R.

“Latch” is what separated Guy and Howard Lawrence from the slew of moderately successful house and U.K. garage revivalists in the early 2010s — the type of straight-ahead pop smash (featuring a future best new artist Grammy winner, no less) that introduced Disclosure to dance novices. But even without this single serving as a gateway to a wider audience, “Latch” demonstrated the duo’s ability to combine chirping hooks with bone-thick feelings, a beating heart which too many of their contemporaries couldn’t locate. “Latch” would help kick-start Smith’s career and crystallize a moment in time for the Lawrence brothers, but years later, its genuine emotion is what makes listeners keep running it back. — J. Lipshutz

As Louie Vega has said himself, “Deep Inside” — by his and Kenny Dope’s Masters At Work side project, Hardrive — is not a perfect record. The levels are muddy, Barbara Tucker’s ad-libbed vocals aren’t pitch-corrected, the mastering doesn’t meet typical MAW standards. Still, it’s these singularities that make it a classic: Produced on-the-fly by Vega before being finished at a then-unknown Erick Morillo’s studio, what was originally intended to introduce Tucker to clubheads became an eternal smash, transporting listeners to early ’90s NYC anytime the needle drops on that indelible hook. — Z.M.

From its skittish first synth notes, Rihanna’s 2011 collab with Scottish producer Calvin Harris is a capital-B Banger that never relents. Harris, who penned and produced the song in the era when he was effectively constructing the EDM template, incorporates elements of house, techno and Europop that ultimately amalgamate to sound that would soon dominate festival mainstages around the world. Playing like Rihanna’s lilting vocals are lightly skipping over a field of landmines, the song’s appeal is that it’s somehow frenetic and uplifting at the same time, thanks to RiRi constantly repeating, “We found love in a hopeless place.” The lead single from Rihanna’s Talk That Talk also remains her biggest Hot 100 hit, leading the chart for 10 non-consecutive weeks and also helping cement Harris’ status as one of the modern dance era’s most essential hitmakers. — M.N.

Everything we learned about construction equipment, we learned from watching Benny Benassi’s “Satisfaction” music video. The Italian DJ and producer made instant house history in 2002 with this freaky, funky, fuzzed-out anthem. The song’s iconic robotic vocals were a move of necessity to ease the trouble of finding a singer. In the end, the pushing, driving, buzzsaw nature of the repetitive hook — and its vocoded lyrics set the stage for the electro-house movement that exploded in the mid to late 2000s, marking this instant hit as an influential piece of ear candy.  — K. Bein

The origin story reads as fluke: A pair of French graphic designers reassemble a relatively obscure 2002 rock song by U.K. band Simian, submit their edit in a remix competition and not only win, but create a track that now plays as shorthand for the entire era.

So it went with “We Are Your Friends” which stripped the original down to its most essential element — the shouted, raggedy vocal from Simian’s Simon William Lord — added a squelchy, busy bassline and stabby synths and launched Justice’s career. While the song shared DNA with the DFA dance-rock happening in the same-ish timespan, Justice brought a distinctly French twist, entering the scene with cigarettes dangling from their lips and unofficially taking the reigns from Daft Punk, who were (for the moment) winding down their studio album releases.

While Justice’s long and continued arc would go on to cover a lot of sonic terrain, “We Are Your Friends’” possessed the rock meets disco meets house meets punk meet funk meets chest-thumping singalong spirit that effectively served as the source code for all of its subsequent output. — K. Bain

​​The criminal replacement of her in the video aside, Martha Wash’s command of “everybody dance now!” to kick off this Hot 100-topping early-’90s smash simply cannot be ignored. A flawless fusion of soulful house diva power and Freedom Williams’ rumbling rhymes, “Gonna Make You Sweat,” is writers/producers Robert Clivillés and David Cole (the C+C) at their best. Blending their forceful production with the perfect vocal yin/yang, the song became an international smash and an early indicator of house music’s crossover potential. It continues to echo through pop culture today. –L.M.

Tracy Thorn and Ben Watt only had half a chorus. “The hook went ‘I miss you,’ and there was another line after that, but that was crossed out, and there was a gap,” Thorn told DJ Mag in 2023. They settled on a winningly sappy analogy, the type of line that’s worthy of a Hallmark card: “I miss you like the deserts miss the rain.”

The duo had already wanted to test a more dance-oriented approach on their 1994 album, Amplified Heart. “We had some success with the remix that Bristol Baseline had done of ‘Take Me’, which was an underground white label of a track on ‘The Language Of Life,’” Watt explained. “I really liked it and wanted to go down that route on this record.” But the album version of “Missing” was just gently propulsive.

If Everything But The Girl were standing by the edge of the pool, mulling a swim, Todd Terry came along and shoved them in. The duo’s A&R at Atlantic wanted a remix that could joust with the house singles that played in New York City clubs, and Terry — a pillar of that NYC club scene — delivered, adding walloping drums and spongy synthesizers, turning that weepy hook into sweeping juggernaut. Released in 1995, his remix sent “Missing” up the Hot. 100, where it spent 55 weeks and peaked at No. 2.

“We’d already been around for quite a long time, we were already in our thirties,” Thorn said. “Then suddenly we’ve got the biggest hit of our entire career. We were a bit like, heads-spinning for a while, what the f–k?” — E.L.

Katy Perry, PinkPantheress, Kali Uchis, T.I.: Those are just a few of the many artists who have borrowed from “Gypsy Woman (She’s Homeless)” over the years. Crystal Waters’ earworm of a chorus – “La da dee, la da da” – and bright organ refrain forged a true house classic instantly recognizable from the first note. But beneath the red-lit sheen, its lyrics told a sobering story about homelessness, inspired by a woman Waters saw panhandling outside a hotel. “Gypsy Woman” was a key track in house music’s ’90s pop crossover, reaching No. 8 on the Hot 100. Dance music is often described as escapist, but this song is proof that it can be socially conscious, too, moving both bodies and minds. — K.R.

Few artists have reshaped pop music like Madonna, and with “Vogue,” she turned a subculture into a global phenomenon. Co-written and co-produced by dance legend Shep Pettibone, the track pulled inspiration from New York’s ballroom scene, where voguing – a dance form rooted in Black, brown, and queer spaces – flourished long before the Queen of Pop brought it to the world stage. Its slinky beat and spoken-word name-dropping of Old Hollywood icons fused club culture and celebrity glamour, making it both forward-thinking and timeless. Catwalking to the top of the Hot 100, “Vogue” introduced house music to the masses, while its equally iconic video showcased the mesmerizing talent of dancers José Gutiérrez and Luis Camacho of House Xtravaganza. More than 30 years later, it remains an anthem of empowerment and self-expression – so go on, strike a pose. — K.R.

When you build your song on a Chic sample, it’s guaranteed to be gold, but the pure disco perfection of French band Modjo’s “Lady (Hear Me Tonight)” is somehow even more emotionally powerful than the Nile Rogers original. This French Touch love song is tinged with the genre’s signature sense of bittersweet melody, giving it a nostalgic sort of sepia tone that plucks on the heartstrings, even if it’s your first time hearing it. Released in the summer of 2000, it has become a classic of the time period with a walking bassline that begs you to dance across the room, look your crush in the eye and declare your love for all to hear. — K. Bein

One of the greatest and most enduring dance anthems of all time, “I Will Survive” hit in 1978 at the height of the disco era. Gloria Gaynor’s fierce, determined tale about a woman who will rise again after a debilitating romantic breakup, penned by Dino Fekaris and Freddie Perren, has morphed into a feisty tribute to resilience of all kinds — especially in the LGBTQIA+ community — and as a favorite among drag queens everywhere. Dripping in strings and pepped up by a brass section, the song spent three weeks at No. 1 on the Hot 100 and took home the 1980 Grammy for best disco recording (nearly 20 years before the Grammys introduced dance categories), but the accolades are no match for its sustaining popularity, which has never waned. — M.N.

Imagine you’re a small-town Norwegian man with dreams of graduating high school and hitting the big city. Then you dad gets sick, and you decide its better for you to stay and take care of him than make your dreams come true. You love dance music, but the best you can do is cook up a strange drug made from cleaning products in your kitchen, cover yourself in hanging lights and wave your arms around to the beat in your headphones.

Now imagine fellow Norwegian Todd Terje hears your story and writes one of the greatest electronic dance tunes ever in your honor. Marius Solem Johansen is that man, and Terje named his euphoric 2012 single “Inspector Norse” after Johansen’s internet alias. The music video showcases Johansen’s small-town lifestyle in all its oddball and ultimately moving glory, and the track “Inspector Norse” breathes heroic character into his tale, weaving silly little arp synth sounds into an inspiring and hopeful melody that builds to heights so ecstatic, the whole dance floor rises to a higher plane. The lesson? Never let the small town keep your spirit down. — K. Bein

More than a queer anthem, this 1978 disco classic from Sylvester is a rallying cry for outcasts everywhere. His flamboyance is inseparable from the song’s high-energy brilliance, a track that still sounds ahead of its time. Whenever sheer exuberance is needed, this gem delivers. Recognized for its cultural and historical impact, “You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real)” is preserved in the Library of Congress’s National Recording Registry, with its 2018 induction documents declaring that “‘Mighty Real,’ with its falsetto realness, was the sound of disco preaching.” Decades later, we’re still catching up to Sylvester’s bold, forward-thinking vision. – L.M.

Larry Heard boiled dance music down to its bare essentials on his very first record, creating a short, indelible loop — a programmed kick drum and a bass that initially matches pace before tipping over, tumbling forward, and then regaining composure. When Heard released the track “[the] reactions were great,” he told Gerd Janson in a 2005 interview for the Red Bull Music Academy. So great, Heard continued, “that Ron Hardy claimed that he made the song and Frankie Knuckles claimed that he made the song.” Heard was flattered by the interest from two of Chicago’s biggest DJs: “It confirmed that I was on to something.” — E.L.

On the bittersweet anthem “Dancing On My Own,” Robyn spirals after seeing her ex with someone new, howling over crushing drums and a barreling bass synth. Simultaneously devastating and euphoric, it embodies the idea of crying in the club, where you’re falling apart inside but still dancing, because what else can you do? Though the song didn’t crack the Hot 100 upon its release, its influence has deepened over time. Beyond providing catharsis for young adults in the mud of their latest heartbreak, it was covered by artists from Callum Scott to Kelly Clarkson, became the soundtrack to an emotional scene in Girls, and earned a Grammy nomination for best dance recording. A masterclass in songwriting and emotion, “Dancing On My Own” showed that dance music could be for more than dancing – it was also made for feeling. — K.R.

It wasn’t her first Stateside hit (that’s 1987’s “The Loco-Motion” cover) nor was it her return to the dancefloor after a mid-’90s alterna era (that’s 2000’s “Spinning Around”). However, Kylie Minogue’s ascent to global pop goddess culminated with the perennially future-sounding dance pop gem that is “Can’t Get You Out of My Head.” Across a variety of interpretations – from orchestral acoustic to a live mash-up with New Order’s “Blue Monday” – Minogue’s continued skill at blending sensual sincerity with sufficiently self-aware sass never wanes. La la la… solfège has never sounded this alluring. – Z.M.

To start, this is the best-selling 12-inch single of all time. That drum pattern, that synth melody, the breaks, the drones, the build — it may be the greatest opening two minutes of any song, ever. And for New Order, and the lineage of punk more broadly, it was a phoenix statement: a rebirth from the genius and tragedy of Joy Division, who as scions of post-punk arguably did the same for the punk rock that preceded it. “Blue Monday” channeled the currents of darkness and dissonance that emerged from the cultural disillusionment of the 1970s into the ultimate dystopian vessel: machines. Wielding technology for all of its simultaneous ominousness and potential, New Order incorporated a new lexicon into the language of dissent by showing us a path forward on the dance floor. — A.D.

It seems impossible that three minutes and 19 seconds of sugary synth hooks could contain such multitudes. The 2011 breakout single by a then 22-year-old Swedish producer born Tim Bergling, “Levels” went viral when “going viral” was still a relatively new thing to have happen. This tidal wave of hype made it hugely expensive to sign, with Universal Music paying a then unprecedented €500,000 for the song. It recouped this investment within six weeks, as “Levels” became a global phenomenon, at a time when smartphones were reinventing the size and speed at which such phenomena could occur. In both its actual sound and the circus that formed around it (fireworks, confetti, bottle service and glowsticks), “Levels” was effectively EDM ground zero, supercharging the development of an entire genre and attendant musical culture.

And of course at the center of it all was Avicii, the biggest DJ of an era when DJs had never been bigger, and a wildly gifted artist who infused the song with the elements that would become his calling card: sparkling clean mixes, larger than life drops and melodies that linger in the mind well after the house lights have come back on in the club. He would go on to have statistically bigger hits than “Levels,” but this is the one that still gets played out most — and not infrequently, even 14 years after its release and seven after Bergling’s tragic death, the song’s legacy now a complicated mix of joyful nostalgia and continued mourning. — K. Bain

The groundbreaking hip-hop outfit’s seminal 1982 single was a key inflection point in the often-intertwined evolutions of dance and rap music. Bambaataa, who helped to pioneer breakbeat DJing, fused the nascent genres on “Planet Rock,” whose thumping 808s and Kraftwerk-sampled synthesizer lines helped the song – eventually certified gold by the RIAA – become both a foundational text of the electro subgenre and one of hip-hop’s most influential early hits. – E.R.B.

Trailblazing drum ‘n’ bass DJ/producer (and MBE) Goldie, along with his Metalheadz label and club night, has introduced the genre to countless fans around the globe. His landmark 1994 single “Inner City Life” propelled drum ‘n’ bass into the mainstream. The late, great Diane Charlemagne’s soulful vocals lend the song emotional depth, while its orchestral arrangements add richness to the razor-sharp breakbeats and signature basslines. A perfect reflection of the timelessness of Timeless, the album for which it serves as the lead single, “Inner City Life” resonates across generations. – L.M.

“YES, OH MY GOD!” Ask any millennial raver how they got into dance music, and chances are it was when they heard this song (and its signature scream) for the first time. Skrillex’s “Scary Monsters & Nice Sprites” was an explosive introduction to dubstep’s daring and abrasive offshoot: with its piercing melody and flooring drops that gnash and grind like a robot army in revolt, it sent a sonic shockwave that challenged the idea of what dance music – maybe all music – could be. “Scary” went double-platinum, won a Grammy, and established the producer as an innovator, a title he’s reclaimed over and over again as he moved beyond bass music, reconfigured pop, and conquered Coachella. Love it or loathe it, this sound changed everything, influencing major artists like Britney Spears and Rihanna while inspiring a new wave of producers to get weirder, louder, and heavier than ever before. — K.R.

Chic’s “Good Times” is a load-bearing hit of 20th century music. The song landed at No. 1 on the Hot 100 in 1979 (the group’s second chart-topper after “Le Freak” the year prior) and captured the carefree spirit of the disco scene at its commercial zenith. Soon after its release, The Sugarhill Gang (illicitly) lifted Bernard Edwards’ classic bassline for their own game-changing track “Rapper’s Delight,” helping to spread hip-hop to every corner of America. It remains a song that brings people to the dancefloor no matter the occasion or format. — T.S.

Robin S. delivers plenty of imperative sentences throughout “Show Me Love” — instructing an unnamed suitor to show instead of tell, to not promise the world, to talk to her. But before any of that, she yells: the first thing we hear from Robin is unadulterated feeling, wrenched from lousy experiences and curled into a glass-breaking note to put the world on notice. “Show Me Love” achieves dancefloor euphoria by mirroring the catharsis of that song-opening howl across multiple minutes, as Robin plays the role of jilted siren and redefines diva-house; the song reached No. 5 on the Hot 100 and towered above the jock jams of its heyday, its cascading beats and Robin’s vocal might slicing through the motivational clutter. Ultimately, what started as a disgruntled cry and a list of relationship commandments became a dance song for the time capsule. — J. Lipshutz

Underworld is one of electronic music’s most formidable live acts, anchored by frontman Karl Hyde’s mesmerizing presence. Then, Academy Award-winning filmmaker Danny Boyle convinced the group to let him make the B-side of ‘Born Slippy’ the heartbeat of his depraved yet wildly popular 1996 film, Trainspotting. The placement was a win-win. It cemented Boyle’s concept while catapulting Underworld to new heights and lifting Hyde’s magnetic swagger to rock-star status. The song is a whirlwind of nihilism, its frenetic drum patterns both hypnotic and chaotic. Hyde’s lyrics capture the disjointed haze of a drunken night out, and post-Trainspotting, the “lager lager” refrain became a fan favorite — often sung back to him incessantly. Hyde has since made peace with its omnipresence, and who could blame him? It remains Underworld’s defining anthem. – L.M.

There was no shortage of wonder at the Opening Ceremonies of the Paris Olympics in July, 2024: Serena Williams and Rafael Nadal speeding down the Seine in a boat carrying the lit torch, lasers radiating city-wide from each of the Eiffel Tower’s steel beams, and a white-haired Marc Cerrone presiding over the decks like a modern-day Greek God. Still, the most wondrous feature of all was Cerrone’s “Supernature.” Its production, originally recorded in a single afternoon, balances baroque arpeggios, funk guitar, live drums, and synth orchestra, amplifying its dystopian lyrical narrative depicting a planet corrupted by modernity. Though Paris 2024 may have been the first spin of “Supernature” for some in the global audience, its glory sparked starlight memories for many who’d heard its call before: from young Chicano disco dons in Los Angeles to bejeweled girls and gays of pre-Thatcher London and beyond. “Supernature” beams forever futuristically for all. – Z.M.

The No. 1 song in heaven – at least according to its music video-within-a-music-video, and who would we be to contradict? “Music Sounds Better With You” achieves the kind of sublime that most folks have to go on drug-fueled retreats or convert religions to get to, with a couple down-beat guitar scratches (thanks Chaka!) and an elliptical lyric that feels like it includes everything important in life in the pauses in between. And that’s about it – not just for the seven minutes of the full “Music,” but for the entirety of Stardust, as the supergroup of French Touch hall-of-famers Thomas Bangalter, Alan Braxe and Benjamin Diamond never even attempted to follow up their globe-conquering smash together. Understandable; once you’ve two-stepped with the gods your first time out, attempting a subsequent “Music Sounds Even Better With You” would seem heretically arrogant. – A.U.

Already an esteemed DJ in the blossoming Chicago house music scene of the early ’80s, “The Godfather of House Music” Frankie Knuckles integrated “Your Love,” a track by his peer Jamie Principle, into his sets at The Power Plant, the club he owned and operated. It was a hit with audiences – so much so that Knuckles and Principle eventually hit the studio to polish it up and release it. With its mechanical synth arpeggios, throbbing bass, and plaintive vocals, the jaw-dropping “Your Love” became one of the essential documents of Chicago house, and a foundational text in the overall story of modern dance music. – E.R.B.

Emerging from grimy underground clubs in Manchester, the Chemical Brothers brought big beat – a style heavy on funky breakbeats and whacked-out acid house loops – to the forefront of U.K. dance culture in the ‘90s. “Block Rockin’ Beats” is Ed Simons and Tom Rowlands at the peak of their powers, blasting out accessible yet inventive grooves; here, a Schoolly D vocal (lifted from 1989’s “Gucci Again) tees up a hypnotic breakbeat (sampled from drum legend Bernard Purdie), a bouncing bassline, woozy wub-wubs and synths that screech out like birds in mating season. At their best, the Mancunian duo had a way of crafting songs where it felt like not only would the party never end, but it would somehow get better with every passing second. After this one, the block was forever rocked. — J. Lynch

There are many reasons Daft Punk’s “One More Time” is one of the greatest electronic dance music tracks of all time. It may be the most euphorically joyful song in existence. It’s maniacally simple and repetitive in construction, making it easily approachable and danceable by the young and the old. It’s devoid of any pretension, yet belies the genius of its creators. It’s also fun to sing along to and includes one of the greatest build-up-and-releases in music history. But the one point we always make when counting this song’s merits is that it’s the only dance song we can think of with an elongated breakdown that simply can not be skipped in a DJ set. For two whole minutes there’s barely a percussive element, and yet any DJ worth their salt knows you must play that entire two minutes, therefore ensuring the dance floor erupts in an ecstatic, gleeful, hands-in-the-air explosion.

Add to that the context that the album Discovery’s heavily disco-influenced sound was regarded as gaudy and brazen in 2001, the year of the song’s release, predating and later inspiring the nu-disco renaissance that would come in the latter half of the decade. Then go ahead and add in the track’s iconic anime music video, the first segment in the feature-length Interstella 5555: The 5tory of the 5ecret 5tar 5ystem animated film that accompanies the Discovery album, and the indelible mark it made on all millennials who watched it on that one Toonami music special. (In August of 2001, The Cartoon Network programming block focused on animated music videos by groups including Daft Punk and Gorillaz.)

The song also, of course, catapulted the then-underground French darling to global superstardom as it raced up charts around the world. Beloved by both overthinking critics and happily oblivious pop music fans the world over, it’s the kind of song you can hear again and again, and then play… y’know. — K. Bein

NYC club kid trio Deee-lite took a laundry list of samples and arranged them into this jangly, funky, just lovely and delicious 1990 house hit, the lead single from debut album World Clique and a a Dance Club Songs No. 1. Singer Lady Miss Kier’s vocal weaves like a bright pink ribbon through a twisting, turning production that incorporates a kitchen sink of elements including the ass-shaker of a bassline from Herbie Hancock’s 1966 “Bring Down the Birds,” drums from Vernon Burch’s 1979 “Get Up,” loads of bongos, a wickedly cool verse from a then-relatively-unknown Q-Tip, dance music’s most crucial use of a slide whistle and a song-opening spoken word vocal from a 1969 belly dancing tutorial that declares, “We’re going to dance…and have some fun.”

Indeed we are. Pulling off the trick of being at once delightfully unserious and totally full of soul, “Groove Is in the Heart” reminds us that for all the talking and thinking about dance music we might do, the genre’s essential point is the life-affirming action of moving your body, getting out of your mind and into your heart, which the last line of the song reminds us is where the groove really resides.

“Well I think dance music is very important, it can be very important,” Lady Miss Kier said in a 1990 interview. “Dance has been around from the beginning of time, as music has been. It’s a way to bring people together and celebrate dreams of better days.” 35 years after the song’s release, that sentiment remains true, and timeless. — K Bain

History (and this list) tells us that dance music — in the literal, platonic sense — existed before “I Feel Love.” But dance music, as we know it today — the heaving, the sweat, the communing, the ecstasy (pun intended), the cultural shorthand and culture unto itself, and to some, even a religion — that, arguably, was realized in the spring of 1977, when Donna Summer, Giorgio Moroder, and Pete Bellotte recorded “I Feel Love.”

Straight off of an hours-long call with her psychic, Summer penned the lyrics in homage to the man whom her spiritual advisor had just confirmed was “the one” (indeed, she would be with him until her death in 2012). On paper, those lyrics aren’t much. But isn’t that what being in love is like? To be so enraptured, intoxicated, liberated, that any attempts to truly articulate it feel inadequate? But oh, to hear them on the song!

That’s where the genius of Moroder and Bellotte’s production comes in. Their innovative and painstaking recording process yielded something that hadn’t really been heard in a pop song before: a continuous, sequenced electronic bassline and washes of synths. It’s uncomplicated, but unstoppable; otherworldly, but we feel it, know it, deeply. In combination with Summer’s vocals — organic and sensual — its electronic precision transcends those past limitations of human expression. The result is timeless — both in the sense of standing the test of time, and the sensation of being lost within it, suspended of it. And what is it to dance to music if not that? — A.D.