She’s only been releasing albums since 2008, but in three short years Lady Gaga has made an indelible mark on pop music. Here is a ranking of all her studio album songs – from 2008’s The Fame, 2009’s The Fame Monster and 2011’s Born This Way – plus a couple bonus tracks.
A dimwitted boast about the beautiful people set to a desultory beat. Beneath Gaga's dignity.
A rather dull paean to New York City and high fashion, with religious references guaranteed to raise eyebrows and hackles.
"Not interested in fakers/Don't want no paper gangsta," Gaga sings in this rather embarrassing dip into hip-hop.
Rough sex, timid beat.
Gaga sings about sex, art and religion in English, Spanish and French.
Straight-up circa 1979 disco revivalism, with the bass in place and Gaga doing her finest Anita Ward impersonation.
Inspirational bromides, Gaga-style: "I can be the queen that's inside of me."
Generic Eurodisco thump, with lyrics auf Deutsch.
"I need some new stilettos/Who could walk down the street in those?" It’s not the kind of complaint you expect to hear from a woman who shows up to awards ceremonies wearing a Porterhouse steak. But this dance-pop tribute to haute couture is diverting fun. “I’m too fabulous,” Gaga boasts, and who could argue with that?
Gaga tries out straight-ahead R&B, with middling results.
Gaga conquers her insecurities, finds love and revives Eighties dance-pop – all in under four minutes.
"Together we'll find a way/To make pure love work in a dirty way." The shrieking metal guitar solo will help the cause.
Smutty. Quoth Gaga: "I want your whiskey mouth/All over my blond south."
Gaga ponders fame, fortune and "hot blondes in odd positions" over a funk-pop groove.
In which Lady Gaga propositions President John F. Kennedy.
Gaga exults in the pleasures of club-hopping, drinking and bi-curiosity.
A particularly spirited vocal turn highlights this dopey song about love trumpets "the Jag, the jet, and the mansion."
Gaga croons one for her core constituency: the misfits.
High school romance, à la Gaga: "Let's go see The Killers and make out in the bleachers . . . Love it when you call me legs/In the morning, buy me eggs."
A lovely retro-rock ballad, with Beatles chords and George Harrison-style guitar solo.
A suave four-square beat and some Auto-tune boost this deceptively dark song about a Don Juan. "He ate my heart then he ate my brain," she sings. "That boy is a monster."
Gaga returns to a favorite theme: love-as-a-battlefield. "Let's have some fun/This beat is sick/I wanna take a ride on your disco stick."
Gaga at her bubblegummiest. A cheery, cherry-flavored synth-pop trifle.
A grungy funk-rock groove bolsters a beatific tale of summertime romance: "You can take me home/Somewhere nice we can be alone/Bikini tops, coming off…"
The greatest Anglo-Latina lesbian marriage story ever set to a disco-cabaret beat.
A delicious soul-glam ballad, with lyrics that pledge puppy love – and complain about premature ejaculation.
The discotheque as utopia: "Just dance, gonna be ok."
Gaga bids farewell to a lover, in an ersatz-Latin accent, with the usual top-drawer global-pop production values, courtesy of comrade-in-arms RedOne.