It was very serious business when Galleria (Raven-Symoné) decided to pack her bags and catch a train to Paris in Cheetah Girls 2, so it’s no surprise the quartet turned to histrionic 80s R&B balladry to soundtrack that moment. “It’s Over,” one of the strongest ‘00s Disney ballads, perfectly captures the staggeringly high stakes that come with the potentially permanent demise of a friend group and the dreams shared within. Anchored by an aching vocal performance from Raven, the Cheetah Girls fine-tuned their blend and harmonies for this cut, reminding the world why their allure transcends fiction. — KYLE DENIS

“Four Strong Winds,” written by Canadian Ian Tyson in 1962, is one of the most enduring songs of longing, loss, memory and regret. It has been recorded by scores of great singers — but none greater than Cash. Against Rick Rubin’s stripped-down production, in his deep, world-weary voice, Cash sings to a loved one: “our good times are all gone / and I’m bound for moving on / I’ll look for you if I’m ever back this way.”  The song appears on American V: A Hundred Highways, released three years after Cash’s death, which became his first No. 1 album on the Billboard 200 in nearly four decades. — THOM DUFFY

While I’m a fan of both Bulletproof Wallets and The Pretty Toney Album, Ghost’s fifth solo album Fishscale is widely recognized as likely his third best project behind Supreme Clientele and his debut Ironman. And songs like “Shakey Dog” have a lot to do with why it’s held with such high regard by fans: It encapsulates everything they love when it comes to hitting play on some new Ghostface, including storytelling, humor, a dope beat, and elite songwriting. This is what those jaded by mainstream rap during this era were playing at the time. — ANGEL DIAZ 

This ambling track from Petty’s Highway Companion lives up to the title of the artist’s final solo album. With his knack for painting a vivid, mysterious picture with words, it feels like a slow drive toward some unnamed, lingering temptation, with a sound that’s comfortingly familiar in ways both specific (the plodding groove recalls “Mary Jane’s Last Dance;” the guitar riff sounds just like “Into the Great Wide Open”) and more intangible (that Jeff Lynne production). — REBECCA MILZOFF

Contemporary gospel powerhouse had already topped Gospel Albums twice ahead of Free to Worship, but the Commissioned alum shifted into an even higher gear with that 2006 LP. Built from Psalms 118:24, “This Is the Day,” a triumphant R&B-infused anthem of gratitude and resilience, remains one of the album’s clearest standouts. Repetition is the backbone here, keeping the track in line with the African-American worship music tradition, but his gravity-defying ad-libs, funky bass, thumping drums and crisp choral arrangements bring everything closer to the center of contemporary R&B. — K.D.

The Raconteurs’ debut project Broken Boy Soldier is filled with punchy, riff-driven rock and roll, evidenced by fiery singles “Steady As She Goes” and “Level.” But closing track “Blue Veins” is something different altogether. Jack White doesn’t deploy his usual high-energy shredding, but instead introduces us to a slow-burning, off-kilter blues ballad that puts his versatility on full display. Though too weird to reach official single status — it has a woozy bridge that’s recorded backwards, after all — it’s oddly charming, and has since become a favorite among Jack White obsessives, only growing in popularity after being featured in a memorable fight sequence in a season 1 episode of Peaky Blinders. — XANDER ZELLNER

Though true superstardom would have to wait for third album Good Girl Gone Bad the following year, 2006 sophomore set A Girl Like Me certainly established Rihanna as a top hitmaker, and an improving albums artist. “Kisses Don’t Lie” was an early highlight from the set, a spiky reggae number with jagged guitars and surprisingly booming drums, over which Rihanna sings with pained insecurity about the kind of romantic volatility that would later become a lyrical hallmark: “And when you touch me/ I feel a rush, but I’m afraid that it might crush me/ Should I put my trust in somethin’ I don’t trust in?” Not the biggest “Don’t Lie” song of 2005, of course, but Rih was definitely starting to feel it. — ANDREW UNTERBERGER

“When was the last time you danced?” That’s the question at the center of the closing track of Gnarls Barkley’s impeccable debut project St. Elsewhere, with Danger Mouse’s irresistible, groovy production imploring you to leave your work behind and hit the dance floor instead. “There’s a rhythm deep inside of you/ And you must get reacquainted,” CeeLo sings with bravado in his unmistakable tenor. So what are you waiting for? – KATIE ATKINSON

Few dance efforts of 2006 were as subtly intoxicating as German duo Booka Shade’s tech-house masterpiece Movements, an album of sparkling low-key bangers that were as intricately textured as they were hooky. “Paper Moon” was a textbook example, the clicking beat, moaning bass and chopped vocals working in perfect tandem to create a groove that’s equally sublime for the dancefloor or the study hall, infectious but never overly insistent. — A.U.

The proper opener to AFI’s Billboard 200-topping Decemberunderground album has emerged as a fan favorite, despite running a scant 1:34. It helps when those 90-plus seconds are filled out with a twinkling For a Few Dollars More-like intro hook, “We Will Rock You”-sized stadium drums (and a Freddie-worthy “oh-oh” call-and-response), and more dramatic strings than a 2020s MCU trailer. The song cuts out just when you think it’s gonna turn into one of the biggest rock songs of the decade — but hey, that’s what “Miss Murder” is for. — A.U.

Colin Meloy: big death guy. And there is perhaps none more macabre in The Decemberists’ lengthy discography than this bonus cut from The Crane Wife. Years before the namesake of “The Rake’s Song” gleefully spun a tale of infanticide, “Culling of the Fold” finds Meloy and co. cracking their knuckles (and a few skulls) and detailing a bevy of murderous episodes. Special shoutout to Jenny Conlee’s intensely unsettling piano line about midway through to really drive the vibe home. — KEVIN RUTHERFORD

On “Hurt Me Soul,” Lupe Fiasco covers more ground than many college philosophy classes. The Chicago MC details how he got into hip-hop – and how its frequent misogyny and materialism gave him pause – before cycling through deeply empathetic lyrics from the perspective of marginalized communities under attack at home and abroad. But it’s the third verse, where Lupe uses a clever, repetitive rhyme scheme – “String theory ponderin’, bullimic vomitin’/ Catholic priest fondlin’, preemptive bombin’,” for a taste – to rattle off a laundry list of modern society’s ills that brings the song to its sobering climax. — ERIC RENNER BROWN

The title vultures of this Continuum standout could represent a lot of predators in John Mayer’s life. Are they the omnipresent paparazzi “hiding right outside my door,” always looking for the next scoop on the singer/songwriter’s dating life? Or could they be the music writers putting him “through the fire” with their hot takes on his awards-darling-but-not-always-critically-beloved work? Or maybe they’re John’s own intrusive thoughts that keep “testing me, testing me, testing me”? We have a feeling it’s all of the above and then some, perfectly soundtracked by his John Mayer Trio buddies Pino Palladino and Steve Jordan with a soulful blues-pop production. – K.A.

Phoenix’s love of historical fiction would soar to new heights on 2009’s masterful Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix – with its lyrical fascinations over Hungarian composer Franz Liszt – but they were already toying with such ideas on “Napoleon Says.” Over a chiming guitar lick and spartan percussion track, singer Thomas Mars treats listeners to dom Napoleon: “Napoleon says to take off your coat/ Take off your long johns, too.” But it’s all prelude to the splendid chorus — a reminder of the era when Phoenix regularly turned out indie-pop perfection with ease. — E.R.B.

“Runaway” taps into that messy, overwhelming feeling of wanting to disappear for a bit and reset. The verses feel quiet and personal, then the chorus opens and almost feels freeing. Nothing about it sounds overdone — P!nk’s voice has that raw edge that makes it believable. It’s the kind of song you throw on when you don’t have the words yourself, and it says it for you. — KRISTEN WISNESKI

2000s-era Muse knew its way around a guitar riff — hell, “Knights of Cydonia” couldn’t even choose just one. And on an album chock full of them in Black Holes and Revelations, “Assassin” stands out on sheer frenetic pacing alone, with its opening jittery staccato giving way to muscly hard rock — you’re practically spent before Matt Bellamy even joins in on vocals about 50 seconds in. — K.R.

Following a conversation with T.I., Jeezy finally left a life of trapping behind when his TM:101 debut exploded onto the Billboard charts, infiltrated hip-hop’s mainstream and solidified his superstar status. That doesn’t mean the lore didn’t stop following him: He leaned into being the Snowman or, in this case, “Mr. 17.5,” a nickname incorporating the price for a kilo of coke. Tucked into Jeezy’s Thug Motivation 102: The Inspiration album, Jeezy found his footing as a face of ATL rap while balancing his peddling past. Over triumphant Don Cannon production, Jeezy recalls his lucrative days of trapping and blasts his rap peers for copying his style. — MICHAEL SAPONARA

Though the biggest hits of Lily Allen’s debut album rode lithe reggae-pop grooves, “Knock ‘Em Out” goes for something a little grime-ier, with hard-hitting, off-kilter drums propelling her tales of fending off unworthy dudes at the pub. Her preached method of rejection-through-gentle deception (“No you can’t have my number/ “Coz I lost my phone”) gets more and more gleefully absurd as the song progresses, till the outro where she’s just shouting “I’ve got herpes! No, syphilis!” As her home country’s greatest hip-hop export would say: Knock ’em out the box, Lily. — A.U.

Spektor’s technical polish, ambitious vocals and wry intellect could mask her street smarts and acquaintance with the underbelly of early ’00s New York hipster life. With its bright bleep-boop beat and jauntily swooping melody, “Hotel Song” is a Trojan horse for a darker tale of a narrator — maybe Spektor herself — who finds in items like a paper napkin and “a little bag of cocaine” clues to bad decisions made. — R.M.

You might expect a 12-minute album closer from a veteran indie rock band that’s titled “The Story of” the band (albeit with a winking name-misspelling) to be a bit of straightforward narrative. And in a way, the group’s then-20-plus-year story is encapsulated in frontman Ira Kaplan’s elliptical snapshots of life on the road — but as usual with Yo La Tengo, the real story is in the guitars, and the epic rock groove that does the kind of things to your spirit that epic guitar rock is supposed to be able to do. “We tried/ Tried with all our might,” Kaplan swears on the chorus. And you know they always will. — A.U.

The singles on Nelly Furtado’s Timbaland-produced blockbuster Loose were so massive it’s almost impossible to picture what kind of album tracks could even exist in between them. “Showtime” was something like the best-case scenario for one — not quite big enough to be potential smash No. 4 on the set, but with the same gleaming sonic textures, instantly memorable chorus and general expert-level pop craftsmanship as its more unavoidable numbers. Several of Furtado’s later albums would actually hew much closer to “Showtime” than “Promiscuous,” and that was hardly a bad thing. — A.U.

If the incredibly loud “Ring the Alarm” is her internal debate on what’ll happen if she ends a tumultuous relationship, the following track on B’Day, “Kitty Kat,” is Beyoncé’s official declaration of “I’m out.” Against expert production by The Neptunes (complete with Pharrell’s signature four count intro), Beyoncé sings about being sick and tired of begging for a neglectful lover’s attention and “not feelin’ it” anymore. The moral of the story is that you can’t keep fighting for something not worth fighting for. Sometimes all that’s left to do is close up shop and say, “Let’s go, little kitty cat.” — ANNIE HARRIGAN

It’s hard to pick a favorite deep cut off such a cohesive album with zero skippable tracks, but “Phenomena” has that certain je ne sais quoi. Karen O’s haunting vocals before the bridge are hypnotic. The synth ahead of the chorus feels like it’s beamed in from outer space; the lyrics are inscrutable. This song sinks its teeth in from the first beat and doesn’t let go. — AMANDA RETOTAR

Joanna Newsom’s 2006 sophomore album Ys represents a full-scale increase in ambition from her 2004 debut The Milk-Eyed Mender: instead of replicating her playful, freak-folk-as-pop songwriting, Newsom returned with five songs that stretched a combined 55 minutes, full of dense orchestral arrangements created with studio legends like Van Dyke Parks and Steve Albini. Within that construct, “Only Skin” is the album’s biggest swing, a nearly 17-minute thicket of mythical references and haunting melodies that never scans as inscrutable and ramps up to an astonishing coda in its final three minutes. — JASON LIPSHUTZ

Dilla’s magnum opus Donuts is a whirlwind of drums, samples, and loops that essentially turned the hip-hop instrumental album into a postmodern jazz record. Each track blends seamlessly into the other while exposing you to sound combinations you’ve never thought possible before Jay Dee did it. “Stop” in particular sticks out, because it speaks to the story he was trying to tell while he put this beat tape together on his literal deathbed. The song starts off with Dilla manipulating Jadakiss’ vocals into asking, “Is death real?” — as Dionne Warick sample loops reminds you to stop and think about what you’re doing because you’re gonna want them in your arms again one day. — A.D.

This Saturday Night Wrist fan favorite is proof that a song doesn’t have to be a single with an expensive video to one day blow up far, far after its release. In fact, all the hauntingly melodic “Cherry Waves” needed was its swell of TikTok virality in the 2020s. With teens discovering the track – and in turn, the ‘90s alt-rock band – on the shortform video platform, Deftones were rewarded with a new level of popularity, one that brought kids and their parents together in arenas for the rockers’ biggest tour yet in 2025-2026. — ANNA CHAN

The Chicks’ Taking the Long Way — and particular its Grammy-winning lead single “Not Ready to Make Nice” — was largely defined as a response to the career-derailing backlash they received following singer Natalie Maines’ comments against President George W. Bush and the War in Iraq. But that doesn’t mean there wasn’t still fun to be had on the set, as exemplified by the rollicking (and brilliantly titled) sinner’s anthem “Lubbock or Leave It.” And despite its less-weighty touch, the song still carries the album’s defiant spirit, as Maines rails against the sort of small-town southern hypocrites who comrpised many of her loudest critics at the time: “Throwing stones from the top of your rock/ Thinking no one can see/ The secrets you hide behind/ Your southern hospitality.” — A.U.

The Red Hot Chili Peppers, to put it gently, are rarely associated with emotional profundity – but this power ballad, nestled about halfway through the sprawling Stadium Arcadium, is a significant exception. “My sunny side has up and died,” frontman Anthony Kiedis sings with palpable melancholy as he reflects on loneliness and life’s impermanence. Rarely does a closing John Frusciante guitar solo arrive under such downcast circumstances. — E.R.B.

The sonic equivalent of the Vegas Strip’s neon lights coming into view, Sam’s Town‘s title track is an immediate attention-grabber. But as anyone who has gotten acquainted with the Strip will tell you, that superficial glitz obscures darker truths. “Nobody ever had a dream ’round here,” frontman Brandon Flowers declares over chugging guitars once the opening salvo subsides, “But I don’t really mind that it’s starting to to me.” — E.R.B.

Is it embarrassing to admit this song was load-bearing to my early 20s? Whatever, I don’t care. While the lyrics can be interpreted multiple ways, I always read them as inspiring: When something in your life seems pathetic and hopeless and REALLY not working for you, it’s time to do a different thing. Between Franz Nicolay’s driving, melodic keys, and Craig Finn’s live vocal emphasis that “you CAN make him like you,” this song is an underrated sleeper on Boys and Girls in America. — A.R.

T.I. was rap’s undisputed MVP in 2006 as he planted his flag as the King of the South with his dominant King album. Behind the accolades of his first No. 1 album and “What You Know” becoming a top-five hit, cuts like “Ride Wit Me” paint a vivid picture of the streets that raised Tip in Atlanta’s Bankhead neighborhood. Just hop in T.I.’s “Phantom with the double door” and take a cruise down the Donald Lee Hollowell Parkway, “where them killers livin’ at and T.I.P. be chillin’ at.” — M.S.

Years before feeling 22 and making the whole place shimmer, Taylor Swift was a 16-year-old with a pen, a guitar and dreams of making it big. With those three things, she wrote or co-wrote every track on her self-titled debut, including the once-overlooked “Mary’s Song (Oh My, My, My).” 

The ballad’s twinkly instrumentation and a mid-song key change emphasize what has always been at the heart of Swift’s artistry: her songwriting. Inspired by her elderly neighbors (as she shared during a Billboard HQ visit shortly after the album’s release), Swift tells the tale of two kids who lived next door to each other, fell in love and grew old together. This kind of narrative structure has remained a constant in her songwriting since — though two decades, hundreds of original songs and countless accolades later, her pen has only grown stronger.  — DANIELLE PASCUAL

Less than three minutes into the opening song on the indie-rock legend’s major label debut, singer Tunde Adebimpe declares that he “slow-danced with commerce / like a lens up a skirt.” That more or less sums up “I Was a Lover,” and Cookie Mountain as a whole: profoundly weird art-rock molded with Prince-like sonic confidence into pop earworms. And it’s the heavy, distortion-laden verses and choruses that set its sublime bridge – among the most beautiful moments in a catalog full of them – in sharp relief. — E.R.B.

On an album with an eventual six singles, this (almost) title track is the ultimate first impression for what’s ahead, perfectly setting the table for the pioneering pop project with its relentless and unpredictable Timbaland beat and Justin Timberlake’s suggestive-on-the-verge-of-explicit lyrical delivery. That “FutureSex/LoveSound” seamlessly transitions into the album’s signature song of “SexyBack” is a testament to how well FS/LS functions as a cohesive collection of ideas and sounds, and it all starts with Track 1. – K.A.

A longtime fan favorite, “Cancer” is a particularly somber offering from a seminal 2000s emo album. Tucked in between three-to-five-minute-long, guitar-driven tracks, “Cancer” is a sonic detour from the rest of The Black Parade — a just-under-2:30 ballad begins with lullaby piano before resolving into string-forward orchestral production. “Cancer” is not a hopeful song, and it’s not meant to be: From the melancholic instrumentation to the just straight up sad lyrics, the entire track perfectly captures the pain of saying goodbye to your loved ones as you face off with death. This is especially evidenced by the chorus’ simple refrain, “The hardest part of this is leaving you,” sung by Gerard Way in the most heartbreaking pleading tone. Though My Chemical Romance never hit the Hot 100 with “Cancer,” the song was introduced to the chart in 2016 after Twenty One Pilots covered it for Rock Sound‘s 10-year anniversary tribute to The Black Parade. — A.H.

The Neptunes’ genius knows no bounds. Who else is meshing an accordion with a didgeridoo as the reedy sonic canvas behind Clipse’s coke kingpin raps? A Thornton brothers fan-favorite, “Momma I’m So Sorry” received a second life in 2025 when Clipse implemented the Hell Hath No Fury cut into the duo’s Tiny Desk concert set. Pusha T and Malice apologize for glorifying drug-dealing but have made peace with the results, which have changed their family’s fortunes. Just let Push tell it as a drug theoretician: “I philosophize about Glocks and keys/ N—as call me Young Black Socrates,” he raps. — MICHAEL SAPONARA

Arctic Monkeys made their name as a U.K. sensation thanks to a series short, punchy and impossibly hooky singles that brought them to the top of the charts — but they could be just as generation-defining laying back and taking their time with it, as evidenced by debut album Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not closer “A Certain Romance.” Built around a gorgeously chiming on-the-downbeat guitar riff and sympathetically bouncing bass line, “Romance” is most striking in its ironic refusal to sentimentalize its scene — “Over there, there’s broken bones/ There’s only music, so that there’s new ringtones,” summarizes frontman Alex Turner, in between repeat proclamations of there being “no romance around there.” But the music can’t help but undercut the message: As the gorgeous instrumental outro swells, you imagine all the kids who found themselves within its epic sweep — and maybe held at least a few makeout sessions to it, too. — A.U.

Deep personal connections between musical powerhouses often give way to particularly striking tracks, just like Amy Winehouse’s foul-mouthed, brass-laden “Me and Mr. Jones.” Commonly understood to be about Nasir Jones, better known as Queens rap icon Nas, “Me and Mr. Jones” finds Winehouse infusing ‘60s aesthetic with notes of jazz and reggae, riffing on both genres’ tendencies to soundtrack irresistibly torturous relationships. Carried by Winehouse’s forlorn, ever-so-slightly slurred vocal performance and Salaam Remi’s grand production, “Me & Mr. Jones” still reveals new insights with each listen — even 20 years later. — K.D.

“Slow Dancing in a Burning Room” was never a single off Mayer’s ‘Continuum,’ but over the last two decades, it’s grown to become regarded as one of the best songs in his entire discography. It’s the ultimate fan favorite; no John Mayer set is complete without it, and attendees crave the unique guitar solo that helped push him into live music legend territory over the last 20 years. In addition to the generational guitar playing, “Slow Dancing In a Burning Room” might be one of his most poignant metaphors, evoking the beauty and chaos of a relationship that’s circling the drain. When looking through the lens of 2006, this was undeniably a deep cut. In the 2026 lens, it’s a Certified JM Classic. — BECKY KAMINSKY

Of course Billboard’s No. 1 pop deep cut of the 21st century would also top our 2006 deep cuts list: Beyoncé’s B’Day ode to deploying the head-turningest, body-huggingest outfit in your wardrobe to get revenge on a negligent boyfriend has to be one of the most memorable non-singles of the modern pop era. And it’s because Bey pulls out all the stops here, with an unyielding delivery of vocal runs that sound more like pentatonic scales; a Rich Harrison production that includes all the bells and (literal) whistles; and a music video that employs countless outfit changes, thanks to a revolving door of Freakum Dresses. In all her talent and ambition, let’s not forget Beyoncé’s “Bootylicious,” matching-outfit start in a girl group: This club-ready standout reminded fans that Bey could still pull from the cheeky bag of tricks that made her a star in Destiny’s Child at the turn of the millennium. – K.A.