With its choke-hold guitar energy and the controlled vocal eruptions of Polly Harvey, this British trio created a college-radio splash on this side of the Atlantic There's an undeniable electricity to Dry, the band's debut: These musical primitives make exciting use of dynamics and twisted arrangements. As a frontwoman, Harvey commands attention: She cunningly mixes sensuality and feminist awareness in conversational hooks. An air Deja Vu also wafts around the album; not a single angry riff, raw melody or thorny lyric on it would've surprised postpunk trend spotters back in '8L The (big) difference between PJ Harvey and the half-forgotten bands of that period is focus — and competence. Polly Harvey only plays rough when she wants to, for emphasis. If that sounds like progress, Dry will slake your thirst for a Patti Smith fix — maybe permanently.

“1999”

“I don’t consider myself a great poet,” Prince told Rolling Stone. “I just know I’m here to say what’s on my mind.” In the case of the apocalyptic party anthem “1999,” he was worried about then-president Ronald Reagan’s foreign policies. The song’s melody is based on a riff borrowed from the Mamas and Papas’ “Monday, Monday,” and Prince originally envisioned the first verse with three-part harmony but later split the vocals between himself and members of the Revolution. Because Warner Bros., with whom Prince was locked in a contractual battle, owned the original’s masters, Prince rerecorded the song and appropriately released that version in 1999.