At one point, Mick Fleetwood had everything a rock star was supposed to want: sold-out tours, iconic albums, and a band whose name was permanently etched into music history. And yet, right in the middle of all that success, he did the unthinkable: he went bankrupt. Not quietly struggling, not “cash poor”—fully broke. It was a moment that pulled the curtain back on rock stardom and showed just how messy, reckless, and unsustainable the excess of that era had become.

Anybody can toss on a “reggae classics” playlist, hear Three Little Birds once, and declare themselves spiritually Jamaican. But really knowing reggae—the songs that built the sound, pushed the culture forward, and got sampled, covered, and quoted into eternity is a whole different thing. This genre isn’t just beach vibes and good moods. It’s love, protest, faith, survival, celebration, sometimes all in the same track.

For years, Elton John was already one of the biggest stars on the planet before the public had any real idea who he was offstage. He wore outrageous costumes, wrote intensely emotional songs, and built a persona that felt flamboyant but carefully controlled. In an era that wasn’t exactly welcoming to queer artists, that distance wasn’t accidental—it was survival.

Hanoi Rocks were on the doorstep of becoming the next superstars of rock when unthinkable tragedy struck.

Some years don’t fade—they hover. And 2016 is one of those years that still shows up uninvited, sliding into your playlists like it pays rent. If the cultural mood is looping back (again), then the soundtrack has to come with it: the pop confessionals, the late-night bangers, the gleeful earworms, the songs that made you text someone you absolutely should not have texted. Here are the 21 tracks that defined the year—and if 2016 is truly returning, they’re not optional.

Johnny Cash never pretended to be neutral. While much of Nashville tried to tiptoe around the Vietnam War, Cash walked straight into it—boots first, guitar slung low, and conscience fully intact. At a time when protest could cost you radio play, sponsors, and even your career, Cash decided that silence felt worse.