Two Princes (re-charted 2000s)

The jangle is almost aggressive in its cheerfulness, two guitars locked together in a rhythm so propulsive it threatens to tip into chaos before the groove catches it. Spin Doctors were never a band that played it cool — there is an earnest, almost goofy exuberance in how this song throws itself at the listener, all scratchy funk-rock textures and a rhythm section that bounces rather than pounds. Chris Barron's voice is one of the stranger instruments of early-1990s alternative radio: nasal, slightly unhinged, performatively loose in a way that suggests he is making it up as he goes even when he clearly is not. The lyric is romantic comedy stripped to its bones — two suitors, one object of affection, a narrator making his case with endearing desperation. Its charm lies entirely in its lack of pretension; this is a song that has no interest in being cool. It found its second life in the 2000s through television placements and nostalgia cycles, soundtrack music for scenes requiring the specific warmth of early-1990s alt-rock innocence. Play it at the start of a road trip, windows down, when the destination matters less than the mood.