The 25 greatest movie soundtracks

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to affirm that Prince and the Revolution's "Purple Rain" is not only the greatest soundtrack in existence, but also one of the finest LPs ever recorded. A nine-song masterpiece that deftly segues from the rowdy funk-rock of "Let's Go Crazy" to erotically charged slow jams like "The Beautiful Ones" and "Darling Nikki," it is the rapturous achievement of a genius at their artistic peak. And while it would be nice if The Time's "Jungle Love" and "The Bird" made the cut, this album had to be pure, unadulterated Prince.

Allan Arkush's goofball rock musical was a crucial showcase for The Ramones, who inspire the movie's school exploding finale with their rebellious brand of American punk rock. The soundtrack helped bring the band to the mainstream by showcasing many of their earlier hits alongside the two new songs ("Rock 'n' Roll High School" and "I Want You Around") written for the film. The album is rounded out by terrific songs from Todd Rundgren, Chuck Berry, Brian Eno, Nick Lowe and Alice Cooper.

Paul Thomas Anderson's deliriously entertaining exploration of Southern Calfornia's porn industry in the '70s and '80s thrives on the energy of its meticulously selected soundtrack. Anderson throws together disparate genres like disco ("Best of My Love"), hard rock ("Sister Christian") and the wincingly earnest pop storytelling of Andrew Gold's "Lonely Boy." The film is practically wall-to-wall music cues, so it's no surprise a second volume of the soundtrack was eventually released. It's an eclectic mix of songs, but each track is perfectly deployed.

In a rotten mood? Throw on "A Hard Day's Night", and your troubles will vanish for the next eighty-seven minutes. Richard Lester's spirited film captures The Beatles at their mischievous best, following the band as they're chased all over England by their overzealous fans. The soundtrack was the third studio album for the Fab Four, and includes several songs that were cut from the film. There are no duds in the movie or on the album. It's all classic Lennon-McCartney (with a few songwriting contributions from George Harrison as well).

When Mike Nichols began editing his landmark evocation of post-college malaise and generational friction, he used pre-existing songs from the up-and-coming Simon and Garfunkel to establish the film's humorous, if somewhat disillusioned tone. Paul Simon was contracted to write three new songs for the movie, and struggled at first to complete them. Finally, he shared one with Nichols – a nostalgic little ditty called "Mrs. Roosevelt." The title didn't stick, but the song made the film, and "Mrs. Robinson" became an instant classic.

Gordon Parks, Jr.'s "Super Fly" is a bona-fide blaxploitation classic on the strength of its Curtis Mayfield-composed soundtrack alone. The film itself is standard gangster flick in which the antihero tries to walk away from his criminal lifestyle, but Mayfield's soulful songs about the harsh realities of ghetto life give the film a pulsating urgency. The deep influence of tracks like "Freddie's Dead," "Little Child Runnin' Wild," "Pusherman" and the title track can be heard in countless hip-hop songs today.

When younger generations ask, "What was the deal with disco?" pull out the soundtrack to "Saturday Night Fever" and let the opening song, "Stayin' Alive," do the talking. The film made John Travolta one of the biggest movie stars in the world, and the soundtrack, somewhat unfairly, came to define The Bee Gees' sound, even though they'd been recording since 1958. But that's what happens when an album sells fifteen million copies. Though culturally reviled in the immediate post-disco era, the LP has rightfully been rediscovered and beloved anew.

Yes, the soundtracks for "Reservoir Dogs" and "Pulp Fiction" are far more influential, but "Jackie Brown" leaves the deeper emotional groove. Quentin Tarantino uses '70s soul classics and other musical oddities to underscore the film's surprisingly moving consideration of finding love as one gets on in years. QT boldly swipes Bobby Womack's "Across 110th Street" from the film for which it was written, and makes beautiful, narratively-relevant use of The Delfonics' "Didn't I (Blow Your Mind This Time)."

It's only the soundtrack that brought reggae music to the American mainstream, and, pop cultural significance aside, it's just a brilliant album. Legendary musician Jimmy Cliff stars in the Jamaica-set crime flick, which is quite good in its own right. But the music is utter bliss. The soundtrack is littered with all-timers: "Many Rivers to Cross," "You Can Get It If You Really Want" and the title song. There are also contributions from Desmond Dekker, The Melodians and The Maytals. There's not a finer album to get loose to.

The Coen Brothers' loopy take on Homer's "The Odyssey" doubles as a stirring tribute to the essential folk music recording career of Alan Lomax – without whom a good deal of bluegrass, blues, folk and gospel might've been lost. Under the production of T-Bone Burnett, the album celebrates these songs of the working man and woman with reverence and, most importantly, joy. Just keep in mind that that's Dan Tyminski belting out "Man of Constant Sorrow," not George Clooney (who couldn't carry a tune as far as the Coens' had hoped).

The "American Graffiti" for the '70s stoner set. Richard Linklater's fond recollection of his Texas high school days blasts off with Aerosmith's "Sweet Emotion" and struts off, double rockets pointed to the sky, with Foghat's "Slow Ride." The studio couldn't license all of the film's songs for the two official soundtracks, but what's there is gold. Linklater leans heavily on hard rock, but he makes room for mellower tunes from Peter Frampton and Seals and Croft. The '70s weren't such a rotten decade after all.

This British Invasion-infused soundtrack nails the bratty, self-absorbed tone of Wes Anderson's first masterpiece. Like much of Tarantino's pop-music excavations, the "discoveries" here (The Creation's "Making Time" and Unit 4 + 2's "Concrete and Clay") have been appropriated by commercial directors and lazy music supervisors. But all of these songs, including John Lennon's "Oh Yoko!" belong to Anderson now – at least as far as the big screen is concerned.

George Lucas's sweet, funny and ultimately melancholy remembrance of his teenage years in Marin County, California kicked off an "oldies" nostalgia craze that resulted in a new radio format and, indirectly, the long-running TV show "Happy Days." It's a definitive collection of major rock, doo-wop and R&B hits from the late 1950s and early '60s, kicking off with its iconic use of Bill Haley and The Comets' "(We're Gonna) Rock Around the Clock." It's earnest, heartfelt nostalgia, much different from the smug, self-pitying vibe of Lawrence Kasdan's "The Big Chill."

Every theater kid who grew up in the 1980s dreamed of recreating the dancing-in-the-street scene from Alan Parker's "Fame." It's the moment that launched Irene Cara's career, and she's featured heavily on the soundtrack featuring memorable songs mostly written by Michael Gore. The highlight is the final track, "I Sing the Body Electric," which immediately became the go-to closer for graduation ceremonies all over the world.

Alex Cox's cult classic is fueled by early '80s punk rock. If you're going to get vaporized by the radioactive contents of a 1964 Chevy Malibu, this is what you'll want in your ear. Iggy Pop roars the title track, while the legendary likes of Black Flag ("TV Party"), Suicidal Tendencies ("Institutionalized") and Fear ("Let's Have a War") join in the nihilistic fun.

This is a list of "greatest soundtracks," not "greatest films", and this enjoyably dumb vehicle for Yo! MTV Raps hosts Dr. Dre and Ed Lover gets credit for introducing the world to The Notorious B.I.G. with his first solo hit, "Party and Bulls**t." It leads off the soundtrack, and, for serious hip-hop fans, it was akin to a 1950s teenybopper hearing Elvis Presley for the first time. The lyrical flow was unprecedented and invigorating. As for the rest of the soundtrack, it's great, too. Erick Sermon, Pete Rock & CL Smooth, House of Pain and Mary J. Blige all contribute memorable cuts. But it was really all about Biggie.

"As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a gangster." If that quote doesn't get you singing "Rags to Riches" like Tony Bennett, you've never seen "Goodfellas" – which is punishable in all fifty states by whacking. Martin Scorsese is the master of the needle-drop cue, and this is his "Starry Night." He's the only filmmaker alive who could open a film with an old-school crooner like Bennett, and close out with "My Way" sung not by Sinatra, but by Sid Vicious.

This hugely problematic remake of the Israeli coming-of-age film "Lemon Popsicle" is primarily remembered for its shockingly bleak ending scored to Quincy Jones and James Ingram's "Just Once," but the entire soundtrack is one for the ages. Devo, The Police, Oingo Boingo, The Cars, Journey, REO Speedwagon and, insanely, U2's "I Will Follow" playing over an abortion. Content and music combined, it's arguably the most 1980s movie ever made.

One of the most underrated films of the 1990s also happens to boast one of the more underappreciated soundtracks. The Carl Franklin-directed noir ambles through 1940s Los Angeles to the hip sounds of Jimmy Witherspoon, Memphis Slim, Thelonious Monk and more. It makes you want to pour three fingers of bourbon, kick back at your desk and wait for a breathtakingly beautiful and very dangerous woman to walk through your door.

Loosely based on the life of tenor saxophonist Lester Young, Bertrand Tavernier's "'Round Midnight" probably comes the closest to capturing the crazy highs and lows of a being a professional jazz musician. It helps that its star, Dexter Gordon, was a fine tenor saxophonist in his own right, and, most crucially, that the soundtrack was overseen by Herbie Hancock. Joined by jazz greats like Wayne Shorter, Ron Carter and Chet Baker, Hancock put together a first-rate primer for the genre. If you can't get into jazz after listening to this soundtrack, you can't get into jazz.

1989. The number. Another summer. Spike Lee's ecstatic and heartbreaking masterpiece turns up the boom box on the pulsating sounds of a sweltering Bedford-Stuyvesant summer day. Though propelled by Public Enemy's incendiary "Fight the Power," this soundtrack also knows how to relax thanks to Teddy Riley and Guy's "My Fantasy," Steel Pulse's "Can't Stand It" and Al Jarreau's "Never Explain Love." The music keeps trying to calm the jangled nerves of heatwave-stricken Brooklynites, but you can't shake "Fight the Power" no matter how hard you try.

James Bridges's "Urban Cowboy" didn't quite do for honky tonks what "Saturday Night Fever" did for discos, but, to be fair, a place like Gilley's Club is not for everyone. If you can't ride an electric bull for eight seconds or dance in cowboy boots to the Charlie Daniels Band's "The Devil Went Down to Georgia," you're liable to get your butt kicked. As a showcase for the country-and-western boom of the '70s and '80s, you can't do much better than this soundtrack (though true aficionados might prefer Willie Nelson's "Honeysuckle Rose").

The idea of an entire soundtrack curated and partially produced by The Bomb Squad in 1992 was a huge deal, and the result far exceeded expectations. The production team behind Public Enemy and many of the top hip-hop/R&B acts of the day assembled a killer lineup of established acts (Eric B and Rakim, Teddy Riley, EPMD) and newcomers (Naughty by Nature, Cypress Hill, Brand New Heavies), and everyone brought their A game. "Uptown Anthem," "Know the Ledge" and "Shoot 'Em Up" are just a few of the highlights. Missed opportunity: the film's co-star, Tupac Shakur, is MIA on the soundtrack.

The Hughes Brothers' violent drama about black Vietnam veterans turning to crime after the war isn't entirely successful as a film, but its soundtrack is possibly the most spot-on assemblage of 1970s soul classics you'll ever find. There are hits, but they're not the ones you expect: Sly's "If You Want Me to Stay," Isaac Hayes's "Walk on By" and Curtis Mayfield's "If There's a Hell Below" are just a taste of what the Hughes Brothers pulled together.

Before he started scoring films for David Fincher with Atticus Ross, Trent Reznor was called in to supervise the soundtrack for Oliver Stone's "Natural Born Killers." He's described his deployment of needle-drop cues as a kind of "sound collage," and it gives the film a disorienting quality that builds to pure derangement as the characters go flying off the rails. It's odd to find Leonard Coen rubbing shoulders with L7 and The Dogg Pound, but somehow it all makes perfectly psychotic sense.