17. “Luka,” Suzanne Vega, Solitude Standing

Suzanne Vega’s 1987 sophomore album is melancholy and winsome, with occasional perky percussion and pacing as the only real push in the direction of radio-ready pop. It mostly consists of lullaby-like confessionals that come across as intense without feeling forced; Vega breathes deep emotion into the hypnotic, hushed, referential songs “Calypso” and “Wooden Horse,” and much of the rest of the album sounds like a lover’s whisper in a vast, darkened room. The exceptions to the tone: the catchy opening a cappella version of “Tom’s Diner” (which spawned a Top 10 hit remix), the closing instrumental version, and the album’s breakout hit single, “Luka,” an irritatingly bouncy song about child abuse, from the point of view of the abused child. “Luka” completely lacks the raw intimacy and pain of the rest of the album—odd, considering its subject matter—and its rhythm and rhymes are clunky and amateurish (“They only hit until you cry / after that, you don’t ask why”). Of all Vega’s songs, this may be the most calculated, the least personal, and the most falsely overwrought. Adding to the irritation factor: It was a huge hit, pulling Solitude Standing to platinum status, launching Vega to a new level of fame, and launching a female-singer-songwriter revolution—quite an accomplishment for such a grating ditty.