They were still a young art form when the 1990s began, but by the end of the decade music videos and video directors were arguably at their commercial and artistic peak. In 1999, MTV's "TRL" was launching teen pop stars and serving as a better barometer of what Generation Y was listening to than the Billboard charts. Meanwhile, Spike Jonze-- who almost single-handedly codified a generation's idealized music videos by artfully employing Gen X totems such as irony, 70s nostalgia, geek chic, intertextuality, and trash culture-- was being nominated for a best director Oscar for Being John Malkovich.

Throughout the decade, MTV-- with a huge assist from Clear Channel-- glued together a pseudo-music monoculture in the U.S. like almost nothing before. Songs like Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit", Dr. Dre's "Nothing But a G Thang", and Britney Spears' "...Baby One More Time" altered the landscape of pop culture so quickly in large part because they were delivered to all corners of the U.S. simultaneously by MTV. It wasn't just inevitable hits whose influence was quickened by MTV either; oddities such as Folk Implosion's "Natural One" or Danzig's "Mother 93" (or, say, Green Jelly's "Three Little Pigs", to name just one of many execrable examples) became out-of-leftfield hits for almost no other reason than someone at MTV decided they should become Buzz Bin videos.

MTV's ability to place a song and musician into the pop music conversation was unparalleled at the time, and by the end of the decade that meant absurd levels of both financial and creative commitment to music videos. Creatively, videos at the time were dominated by a handful of visionary directors-- Jonze, Michel Gondry, and Chris Cunningham-- and there's no getting away from that in our list of our top 50 videos of the 90s. (NB: Whenever possible we've chosen official videos to limit the chances those videos will be removed at a future date; the tradeoff is that those clips are more likely to have pre-roll ads.)

As always with a list such as this, commentary is kept to a minimum; the fun and joy should be watching the clips, whether for the first time or the first time in years.

50. PJ Harvey

"Man-Size"

[dir: Maria Mochnacz; 1993]

As late as the mid-90s, it was novel just to see certain artists in music videos. Hell, it was novel to see them in photographs, or magazines-- in any context outside of their record sleeves and live performances. The alt-rock boom pushed some artists into a brighter spotlight with larger music video budgets. But in the first half of the decade, clips for all but the biggest pop stars were modest affairs, typically without narrative or special effects. Seeing someone walk and talk and sing and move on video was a thrill in itself, and personality went a long way. Polly Jean Harvey certainly had personality. This simple yet arresting clip is a good example of both the limitations of those early videos and how an outsized presence could transcend those limitations.

49. Beck

"Loser"

[dir: Steve Hanft; 1993]

Decidedly lo-fi yet still looking like an event right out of the box, Beck's "Loser" clip introduced his entire aesthetic in just a few minutes. It made the L.A. singer-songwriter look fun, fresh, entirely of the moment.

48. Frank Black

"Headache"

[dir: Adam Bernstein; 1994]

This goofy, highly re-watchable video from the ex-Pixies singer is pretty much what's good about the above two videos combined into one clip.

47. Ol' Dirty Bastard [ft. Kelis]

"Got Your Money"

[dir: Nzingha Stewart/Scott Kalvert/ Hype Williams/ Durville Martin; 1999]

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By the end of the decade, 70s cop dramas and blaxploitation films were an established part of the Gen X vocabulary. But seeing ODB and Kelis onscreen with Dolemite doesn't feel passé. The casual construction of the video hews closely to the homemade YouTube mash-up clips of today-- there's no effort to make the cuts seamless, or let technological feats overshadow the stars. At a time when many hip-hop videos looked like Michael Bay action films, there's ODB turning the clock back and making helicopter and yacht rentals seem like the hideously comical extravagances they are.

46. The Verve

"Bittersweet Symphony"

[dir: Walter Stern; 1997]

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The Verve wound up in hoc to Rolling Stones manager Allen Klein for lifting the central string sample of their defining single; they also lifted the general concept of the song's video, this time from Massive Attack's "Unfinished Sympathy". In both cases, they improved on the original. Richard Ashcroft's brashness and dickish disregard for other people probably didn't require acting chops.

45. Dr. Dre [ft. Snoop Doggy Dog]

"Nuthin' But a 'G' Thang"

[dir: Andre Young; 1992]

Basically the template for G-Funk videos to come, Dre and Snoop's 24-hour odyssey has its needlessly mean-spirited moments (basically any time a woman is on screen). But the small details-- Dre laughing off getting a job, the little kid dancing, the modified cars, the stocked fridge, the tracking shots through Snoop's house-- helped construct a panorama of an emerging cultural phenomenon.

44. Wilco

"Outtasight (Outta Mind)"

[dir: Bill Fishman; 1997]

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This is essentially Wilco starring in a Mountain Dew ad, but the unlikelihood of it all somehow makes it more effective and attractive.

43. Snoop Doggy Dog

"Gin & Juice"

[dir: Dr. Dre; 1994]

Hockey jerseys, broad comedy, bicycles, Home Alone gags-- this is basically the PG version of the Dr. Dre video.

42. Sonic Youth

"Dirty Boots"

[dir: Tamra Davis; 1991]

By the time of Mike Mills' skaters-in-love clip for Air's "All I Need", sincerity was poised to creep back into indie rock youth culture. You'd still show up at a Flaming Lips show and people would nervously laugh at covers of "Over the Rainbow" or "(What a) Wonderful World", but the ground was shifting under our feet. All that was a few years away when Tamra Davis constructed this tale of love in the moshpit. Note the Nirvana t-shirt worn by the female protagonist, well before the release of Nevermind.

41. Lauryn Hill

"Everything Is Everything"

[dir: Sanji; 1999]

A healthy dose of 90s positivity-- almost the final gasp of it-- and a heavy-handed music-is-all-around-us metaphor somehow redeem what incredibly turned out to be the last moment in the sun for Lauryn Hill.