5 Rock Choruses So Unforgettable They Made Nearly Perfect Songs

Does overreliance on a chorus make a song a gimmick, you ask? Does a big hook make a song dumb? Quiet, we're singing the chorus to Quiet Riot's "Come On Feel the Noize" and don't have time for such noise. It's just one rock hook of many, so unforgettable that it's elevated its song to near-perfection. Though perfection is a tricky thing to qualify, we can all generally agree when a chorus is an earworm — that's what we're focusing on with this article. 

But we have to think of the whole song, too. A song's entire composition affects the chorus as it leads from one thing and into something else. Leaning too much into a refrain leaves a song feeling hollow (Kiss, we're looking at you). We also want to steer clear of songs that have been overplayed to the point of annoyance, like Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" or Queen's "We Will Rock You;" they're too low-hanging and almost impossible to evaluate with fresh ears. Finally, we're opening the door to all types of rock across all sub-genres and decades, though that net is so wide that many, many songs will have to be left out. Also, it'd help if a song induces some kind of adrenaline rush, but it's not completely necessary (as we'll see).

Like we hinted at above, the '80s were definitely a time of anthemic, unforgettable choruses, like those from Quiet Riot, Bon Jovi, and AC/DC. We've also got surprise choices from Pink Floyd and Soundgarden.

Yes, Quiet Riot's "Come On Feel the Noize" is a cover (uncensored title and all). We give thanks to Slade's original 1973 song, which was not released on any full-length studio album but only as a standalone single — perhaps to keep moralizers and censors away from the band's major releases. The zeitgeist might have needed time to catch up to Slade's ribaldry, anyway, as their original song only peaked at No. 98 on the Billboard Hot 100. Quiet Riot's version from 1983's "Metal Health" reached No. 5, proving that '80s folks were indeed ready to get wild, wild, wild. Then again, Quiet Riot's version is, well ... way better. And features less mutton chops.

"Come On Feel the Noize" came into its own in the hands and mouths of Quiet Riot. Brasher, bolder, rockier, more energetic, more irrepressible: It's as though it was always their song. But more to the point: The chorus melody is god-tier, right down to the descending "wild, wild, wild" notes. Those three notes repeat throughout the song's verses in the "I don't know why" line, which shows clever songwriting masked within the song's throwaway subject matter. The chorus of "Come On Feel the Noize" might elevate the song to perfection, but it wouldn't work nearly as well without such a tightly written whole.

Speaking of the song's sticky subject matter, it'd be overstating things to pretend it houses some secretly deep meaning. That being said, the lyrics, "So you think my singing's out of time? It makes me money," just might reveal the intent behind the song. The joke's on you, dear listener, for getting hooked by the hook. 

Stop. Don't try to deny it. You love AC/DC's "You Shook Me All Night Long." You loved it the first time the song's drums kicked in, and Angus Young's exceedingly simple guitarwork made your toe tap, your eyebrows rise, and your soul convince you that this 1980 song would indeed define rock history for the entire, forthcoming decade. Also, did you ever notice that the chorus's three main notes on the lyrics "all night long" are the same three notes as "wild, wild, wild" from Quiet Riot's "Come On Feel the Noize" (C, B, A)? Maybe we're just a sucker for descending musical motifs and songs that reference secretions.

But no, "You Shook Me All Night Long" really is that good. It's like what would happen if you asked someone to write the most rock 'n' roll song ever, then add schoolboy shorts to one of four hobbits. But it's the chorus that does it. It rips and flows at the same time. It's a masterful example of tension, release, and a sense of satisfaction when musical lines come together. And let's not forget the solo. It's excellently composed, highly vocal (you can sing it), and shows that Young isn't just a goof (but is also a goof).

Also, "You Shook Me All Night Long" was written off-the-cuff. Wanting to impress his new band following the tragic death of AC/DC's first vocalist, Bon Scott, singer Brian Johnson told Absolute Radio that he built on Young's riff to write the chorus in one night. Sometimes perfection comes easy. 

If there's any song and assemblage of hair likely to transport people back to the '80s, it's Bon Jovi — both the band and the guy. Once again, the decade and its preoccupation with massive hooks came through in the form of one of Bon Jovi's massivest and hookiest hooks: "Livin' On a Prayer" from 1986's "Slippery When Wet." A five-star karaoke staple, the song is actually quite well-written, builds exquisitely from verse to pre-chorus to chorus, and explodes into a refrain so out-of-control memorable that it not only went to No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 and stayed there for four weeks, but is likely eternally stuck in the head of anyone who's ever heard it.

Much like our previous two songs, "Livin' On a Prayer" lives and dies by the smallest musical phrases. Extract the two-note "Woah-oh" from the chorus, and the song wouldn't soar nearly so high. The pre-chorus builds anticipation for this anthemic moment and flows seamlessly from the verse, which coasts on a simple bass loop vamping on one chord. Take Bon Jovi for a joke if you want, but you could do a legit songwriting clinic on "Livin' On a Prayer." Nothing feels predictable, yet it all makes sense. Nothing feels derivative, yet it all feels familiar. Sure, Bon Jovi has plenty of underrated songs that aren't as overplayed as "Livin' On a Prayer," but this song is their finest work.

Plus, the song's meaning is universal enough for anybody to connect to it. Even if you ignore the lyrics' working-class tale of Tommy and Gina, you can still belt the chorus and get a vague sense of victory and triumph in the face of adversity.

It finally happened. In 1980, the most commercially successful prog rock outfit of the 1970s, "Pink Floyd" hit No. 1 on the Billboard Hit 100 with "Another Brick In the Wall, Part II," and stayed there for four weeks (though it came out in 1979 and defined rock history that year). It's a weird song, too — a completely improbable occurrence from a band who, four years earlier in 1975, put out what was arguably their least accessible work in the form of "Wish You Were Here." But that's how undeniably good and unforgettable the chorus is for "Another Brick In the Wall, Part II."

In contrast to some of Floyd's more ponderous work, "Another Brick In the Wall, Part II" is basically a groovy, danceable banger that's bass-heavy, has some clean, disco-reminiscent guitar strumming, another bonkers solo from David Gilmour, and the chorus, which is just, "All in all, it's just another brick in the wall" refrain. It resolves the whole song's melodic line as it's led to that point. The song's verse  — "We don't need no education / Wе don't need no thought control" — is also so catchy that it'd be easy to mistake it for another chorus. And sure, the dialogue featuring the teacher screaming about eating meat and pudding definitely helps with the song's memorability.

Then there's the song's very memorable lyrics and anti-establishment sentiment. Continuing the story of the character Pink's oppression at the hands of an entire social/educational system, no doubt lots of folks took the song as a chance to purge their scorn at their own vexing childhood teachers.

Consider this a dark horse entry, if you will, or an attempt to rope a different era of rock into the mix. If you grew up with Soundgarden's "Black Hole Sun" from 1994's "Superunknown," then you already know it was a bona fide '90s high school hit that proved Gen X was the coolest generation by far. You were also likely one of a legion of disaffected teenagers sneering at the latest high school assembly or pep rally (apologies for bringing up such trauma). Soundgarden could have predicted that young-uns would take to their song about wanting a shallow world to get swallowed up by a black hole sun, but it's inconceivable to think that the Seattle grungers ever once asked themselves, "Have we made this song catchy enough?" The song's chorus is so unforgettable that it transformed what was already a masterful song into something about as perfect as you can get.

We'd have to wade through some pretty deep music theory weeds in order to get to the bottom of why "Black Hole Sun's" chorus works so well (aside from what your ears tell you when you hear it). So,  let's just say it boils down to unusual harmonies, chromatic notes (notes outside of a key), and the occasionally odd time signature constructed around a solid melodic core. It's all rather ominous and mysterious, and strangely sleepy even when it sounds energetic — kind of like singer Chris Cornell, himself. And when Cornell hits the word "sun" lock-step with the chorus's first guitar notes (plucked, not strummed), you'll be hard-pressed not to sing along. This is a truly unforgettable chorus for one of rock's most recognizable and perfect songs, period.