From Lady Gaga instructing us to put our paws up and Adele lamenting just how much she and her man could have had at the beginning of the year, to Bruno Mars predicting a murky forecast and Jay-Z and Kanye taking one more—just one more—stroll through Paris at year's end, 2011 has been a fantastic year for pop music of all shapes and sizes. Over the next week, we'll be counting down our 100 favorite songs of the year—songs that made us dance, made us think, made us cry, most of them all at the same time. Check out 60-41 below, including dirt roads, teardrop waterfalls and the best of the many songs this year to sample Harry Belafonte, and check back tomorrow for 20 more.

(Also, take a guess in our comments section about what you think our top five songs will be. If you get four of them right, you could win $200 in concert tickets!)


The lead track and heart of Born This Way, "Marry the Night" retrofits a Pat Benatar or Cher power anthem for '10s synths, lapsed-Catholic organs and the percussion from Madonna's "Holiday." You couldn't find a better demonstration of Lady Gaga's philosophy: defeat tears through steel, artifice and self-mythologizing. The lyrics probably only make complete sense to Gaga, but whatever they mean, they make her push her voice past a breakdown and shove the track into a major key then, once that strains, back out. Anyone can propose marriage to the night, but it takes musical chops not to cry anymore.


"Take Care" has two huge strengths going for it. The track, which grafts more beats onto English artist Jamie xx's remix of genre veteran Gil Scott-Heron's "I'll Take Care of U" (itself a remix of an old blues track is as chilly and brooding as anything written for Take Care, made for late nights and near-empty rooms. Meanwhile, Rihanna's never sounded warmier, huskier or more intimate. As for Drake, he is Drake; it speaks to "Take Care"'s composition that it doesn't matter whether you think that's a compliment or not.


The Roc Nation newcomer uses a sample of Paula Abdul's "Straight Up" to perfection here, delivering a cool and memorable, head-bobbing debut. Throughout this conversation with his lady, it’s the Carolina swagger and Southern twang that make the uncertainty of the romance in question acceptable. Sure, the ambivalent nature of whether this is a good thing or a one night stand won’t help to quell a woman’s crazy, but both sound good when coming from Jermaine’s mouth.


One of the best tracks on Femme Fatale and Britney's most interesting work in years, this is what critics meant when they kept going on about how Femme Fatale sounded really cool. A dervish of breathy beatboxing, scatting, handclaps that do something more interesting than that annoying synth-clap sound all over pop lately, pitch-shifting and actual popping sounds, "How I Roll" has the sort of swagger only attainable through sang-froid. The people responsible for it never being a single should all be placed under conservatorship.


Irony-enhanced hip hop group Das Racist have had the exact career you'd expect from a group whose biggest hit was both named and mostly composed of the words "Combination Pizza Hut and Taco Bell." Single "Michael Jackson," from this year's Relax, is probably as good an example; Heems and Kool A.D. barrel over a skittery beat with verses containing the likes of "I'm DJ Khaled / I'm a Daikon radish" and, as a final line, "I'm fucking great at rappiiiing!" Writing oddball shit doesn't quitemake you stand out as a rapper in 2011, but you can't accuse Das Racist of being lazy with their subject matter.


He's only 23 but he shares the same confidence as his mentor Rick Ross, assuring us countless times over of his role in the music world and the greater Philly area. It's the snare drum that propels the beat through to the end and thus ingratiating itself in our heads for good, peppered with Ross' signature grunts and Mill's near-screaming of his social status. If your self-confidence ever needs a makeover, thank the boys of MMG for this self-made pickmeup currently at your disposal.


The year's most purely joyous, most lyrical song, in country or otherwise, about heartbreak. Any hints of longing are buried beneath this arrangement of surging brass, slide guitars, piano chimes and laid-back vocals, and by the time Billy gets to the singalong -- a singalong about the fact that "love done gone," no less -- it's easy to forget that these emotions are supposed to feel bad.


4's strangely unofficial single stomps it's way to assert its presence a lot louder and more directly than the majority of its album's counterparts. From the onset of blaring horns and the exploding chorus B takes us through multiple movements as powerful chanting filled with undeniable Fela Kuti inspirations give way to from-the-gut belting for one massive declaration of love that proves hard to let go.


"I Follow Rivers" is a sputtering death-drive of a track, like something Danger Mouse would produce; it's instantly haunting even before Lykke Li begins singing. That's probably the wrong word; what she does is more like snarling or grumbling, as if she long ago forgot the difference between love, desperation and grudging compliments. You're never sure whether the chorus, with its "I'll follow you" is heartfelt, anxious or creepy. At one point before a chorus, she just stops, out of breath, as if even hinting at her feelings takes too much out of her.


The American public ultimately decided they preferred Flo Rida's "Good Feeling," but Avicii's "Levels"—the song that provided every part that you actually remember about "Good Feeling"—was really more than enough itself. A synth-soaked beat guaranteed to get your fist (or if you believe the video, your entire body), to make motions you didn't believe you were technically or emotionally capable of, perfectly paired with an inspired Etta James sample—"I get a feeling that I never, never, never, knew before." Flo's thievery was blatant and shameless, but ultimately understandable.

For songs 50-41, including Lil Wayne and Bruno Mars, click NEXT.

50. KE$HA, "BLOW"

"Blow" breaks all the rules of club songs. She doesn't care about dancing, the DJ or any of the irrelevant guys. She'll "do what you don't," but it's not a come-on but a warning; the title's neither about sex nor drugs, but about sheer destruction. She's not drinking champagne, but party juice ("drink the Kool-Aid...), and she uses that to compare herself to Jim Jones. Jim Jones killed a lot of people, incidentally; Ke$ha doesn't go quite that far, but if it was up to her, she'd leave the club in a shambles of glitter and debris. Why? Because she's young, and she's bored, and she can. You can't argue with that, especially not when the track's this slick.


Coldplay's written songs for stadiums ever since they realized those might be in their future; the primary difference between Mylo Xyloto and the albums before is that the stadiums they have in mind have more modern tech. "Every Teardrop is a Waterfall," the lead single, could be their stadium flier, an anthemic song about anthemic songs, every synth lead and bass thump and guitar line designed to rouse the crowd. You can't exactly fault the world's biggest rock band for sounding their size.


Not much on Florence Welch's Ceremonials could be described as "small," whether voice or arrangements, but on "Shake It Out" The Machine overcranks itself, the organs overwhelmed by percussion, which is overwhelmed by Florence's voice, overwhelmed by dozens of tracks of Florence's voice, overwhelmed by lyrics about thwarting devils and damnation. This could be either transcendent or a collapsing disaster, but these elements boost, not undermine each other. It's a gorgeous exorcism by sound, and it'll leave you speechless afterward.


Ludacris continues his successful experiments with genre-crossovers, helping his countryman Mr. Aldean take his country rap to the next level on this cover of the Colt Ford and Brantley Gilbert original. While Luda's verse obviously separates things from its predecessors, Aldean makes "Anthem" his own by exaggerating key words ("biscuits")—which helps us further understand his priorities—and taking more liberties with the vocals, crooning his way across a memorable hook and chorus that was made for swaying.


Slightly outre women wielding synths aren't at all scarce, especially in the U.K. Neither is dark pop, especially in the States. But Charli XCX (meaning "kiss, Charli"; her embarrassed explanation in interviews suggests it might be dropped soon) managed to burst to the front of the crowd with debut single "Stay Away." The track crackles like a spreading fissure, to which Charli's throaty voice is a jackhammer, and her songwriting shows promising signs of angst done smart -- check out the enjambment of "I knew you were no angel, but God / what did I do?" The spoken-word bridge is a bonus, as they almost always are.


Transforming Harry Belafonte's "The Banana Boat Song" from a happy little island soundtrack to a blaring walkout song, Wayne's Tha Carter IV track remains our favorite almost one year after the fact. With its robotic, repetitive chorus working to reel listeners in, Weezy delivers brilliant new classics like "Real G's move in silence like lasagna" over a deep, booming bass that punctuates his cleverness. Brash and cocky, it's Wayne at his most inventive and entertaining we've heard in a while.


Following up an epoch-defining jam like 2002's "House of Jealous Lovers" was a daunting task, and one that for many years, The Rapture wanted absolutely no part of. Finally, they got back in the game in 2011 with "How Deep is Your Love," a song that, while perhaps not as incendiary as "Lovers," was just as catchy, just as epic, and...OK, it didn't have nearly as much cowbell, but that unspeakably addictive piano hook was pretty good consolation. Plus, "House" never referenced Sisqo or The Bee Gees.


For something featured on the Breaking Dawn soundtrack, we like this song a lot more than we probably should. But even with the loose YA vampire references and suspect lyrics that present Mars as the opposite of his nice guy image (is morphine a good idea after that very public mug shot?) the song's bellowing strings and swooping vocals prevail. There's more grit than on sweet-sounding tracks like "Just The Way You Are," as he's vocally strained by the chorus ("There'll be no sunlight / If I lose you baby") helping us to realize the high stakes, bother in the movie theater and elsewhere.


Did you know Jojo isn't the kid who sang "Leave (Get Out)" anymore? Really, you could tell from two lyrics. The first is from her (also fantastic) "Marvin's Room" reimagining and probably needs no reminder. The second is the peak of this song: "by the way, I faked it every time!" Fortunately for Jojo's continued career, not only her words are sharp. The synths don't just stab, they lance the chorus like they're bayonets, and Jojo's voice has only gotten more limber and sassy with the years. "Disaster" might be her official single, but "The Other Chick" grabs more of your attention.


Grab your tissues. It's no secret that many people have connected with Adele's mournful track to a former lover, but the complicated mix of emotions—sadness, regret, frustration—emphasized with layered vocals dominating the simplistic twinkling piano, make it more mature of a heartbreak anthem. Her conflicting feelings begin with restraint but by the time she wails "don't forget me, I begged" it's clear she's desperately trying to keep things together, and we have a hard time doing the same.

Remember to check back tomorrow for 40-21 of our list, and leave those top five guesses in the comments section for a chance to win $200 in concert tickets!