Although “needle drop” initially referred to lowering a phonograph needle onto a vinyl record, the term has since expanded to describe the use of preexisting music in place of an original film score. Because we come to the movie theater with our own cultural baggage regarding certain tunes, a preexisting song can do a lot of work quickly and effectively, whether that is establishing a mood, defining a character, or offering a wry commentary on whatever action is unfolding onscreen.
One of the earliest and most influential needle drops in a mainstream flick came in 1955, with Bill Haley and the Comets’ “Rock Around the Clock” playing over the opening credits of The Blackboard Jungle, a cautionary tale of juvenile delinquency. Nearly 20 years later, the tune would resurface in George Lucas’ American Graffiti, a movie of nearly wall-to-wall needle drops from the early days of rock ‘n’ roll. In the years since, a growing cadre of moviemakers—Martin Scorsese, Quentin Tarantino, Paul Thomas Anderson and Sofia Coppola, to name a few—have made the strategically dispatched popular song a hallmark of their style.
For purposes of this exercise, this list excludes songs used over opening credits. Such needle drops can be remarkably evocative, of course, but primarily in setting the table for what will follow. They have a different function than a needle-drop that occurs mid-narrative—or, in one case, a sequence so fully dramatized that the credits feel incidental to it. For that reason, you won’t find numbers like Steppenwolf’s “Born to Be Wild” from Easy Rider (1969), Harry Nilsson’s “Everybody’s Talkin’” from Midnight Cowboy (1969), Isaac Hayes’ “Theme from Shaft” (1971), the Bee Gees’ “Stayin’ Alive” from Saturday Night Fever (1977), Public Enemy’s “Fight the Power” from Do the Right Thing (1989), and Redbone’s “Come and Get Your Love” from Guardians of the Galaxy (2014).
OK, got that? Good. Let’s go.
20. “Foggy Mountain Breakdown”—Flatt & Scruggs and the Foggy Mountain Boys, from Bonnie and Clyde (1967, dir. Arthur Penn)
Flatt & Scruggs’ bluegrass classic kicks up when the police give chase after the Barrow gang—Warren Beatty, Faye Dunaway, Michael J. Pollard, Gene Hackman, and Estelle Parsons—robs a bank. One of cinema’s earliest iconic action-movie needle-drops, the rollicking instrumental helps establish the film’s seriocomic tone that would flummox early reviewers but ultimately spur many imitators.
19. “Needle in the Hay”—Elliott Smith, from The Royal Tenenbaums (2001, dir. Wes Anderson)
The tragic specter of singer-songwriter Elliott Smith, who died by apparent suicide in 2003 at age 34, marks a retroactively jarring change in tone for Wes Anderson’s comedy about a supremely overachieving but dysfunctional family. Richie Tenenbaum (Luke Wilson), a professional tennis player despairing that the adopted sister he loves is getting married, calmly shaves, cuts off his hair, and slashes his wrists.
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18. “Adagio for Strings”—Samuel Barber (composer), from Platoon (1986, dir. Oliver Stone)
Samuel Barber’s 1936 composition had already become America’s unofficial music of public mourning long before Oliver Stone got hold of it, but the director makes it downright heart-wrenching in the semi-autobiographical account of his Vietnam War experience. “Adagio for Strings” swells when the saintly Sgt. Elias, played by Willem Dafoe, is riddled with gunfire, his arms raised to the sky in an unmistakably Christlike posture. The image became the film’s poster art.
17. “Old Time Rock & Roll”—Bob Seger, from Risky Business (1983, dir. Paul Brickman)
As a teenager in suburban Chicago whose parents have left him alone for a week, Tom Cruise’s Joel Goodsen is ready to celebrate. First, he helps himself to a tall glass of his folks’ Chivas Regal scotch to accompany his frozen dinner. Then, as the coup de grâce, Joel, clad only in briefs and a shirt, cranks up the Bob Seger rock standard for a lip-synching performance in the privacy of his living room. He struts, sings into a candlestick, and gyrates while face-down on a couch. A star is born.
16. “Hurdy Gurdy Man”—Donovan, from Zodiac (2007, dir. David Fincher)
On the night of July 4, 1969, Mike Mageau and Darlene Ferrin (Lee Norris and Ciara Hughes) have just parked at Blue Rock Springs Park in Vallejo, California. Before they can get comfortable, a brown Corvair pulls up behind them, leaves, and then circles back again. Mike senses that something isn’t right. The viewer can, too, since the arrival of the strange car coincides with the spooky, flower-child psychedelia of Donovan’s “Hurdy Gurdy Man.” Soon the couple will become two of Zodiac’s victims, although Mageau survived the attack.
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15. “In Dreams”—Roy Orbison, from Blue Velvet (1986, dir. David Lynch)
David Lynch nails the creepiness inherent to Roy Orbison’s overwrought tearjerker when Ben (Dean Stockwell), heavily rouged and wearing a satin smoking jacket, treats psychotic Frank Booth (Dennis Hopper), his goons, and the captive Jeffrey (Kyle MacLachlan) to a shiver-inducing performance. Ben’s miming appears to both soothe and disturb his criminal confederate, Frank—at least until Frank abruptly ends the show. “All right! Let’s hit the fuckin’ road!”
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14. “Goodbye Horses”—Q Lazzarus, from The Silence of the Lambs (1991, dir. Jonathan Demme)
Listen to this Q Lazzarus tune on its own, and the sound is dreamy, romantic, almost evanescent. Director Jonathan Demme had already used it in Married to the Mob (1988), but evidently he wasn’t going to be satisfied until this obscure synth-pop could be permanently contaminated by linking in with fictional serial killer Buffalo Bill (Ted Levine). In The Silence of the Lambs’ most notorious scene, Bill dances to “Goodbye Horses” in front of a mirror while he applies lipstick and makeup. All the while, his kidnap victim (Brooke Smith) desperately tries to lure Bill’s beloved lapdog into the pit where she is being held captive.
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13. “September”—Earth, Wind & Fire, from Robot Dreams (2023, dir. Pablo Berger)
Pablo Berger’s animated tale of a dog and his mail-order robot friend transforms the Earth, Wind & Fire classic into a pathos-packed evocation of joy, loneliness, and longing. Based on a 2007 graphic novel, the woefully little-known Robot Dreams uses the tune throughout the film, with each instance signifying a different stage in the lives of its anthropomorphized canine and his bot buddy. Its first appearance is the sweetest: the two friends rollerskating through Central Park, grooving in wonderfully dorky unison—a snapshot of happiness that informs the events to follow.
12. “Lust for Life”—Iggy Pop, from Trainspotting (1996, dir. Danny Boyle)
The manic desperation of Trainspotting’s heroin addiction roars off the screen early on as Ewan McGregor’s smack-addled Renton and company sprint through the streets of Edinburgh, running from police. As the drums of Iggy Pop’s ferocious anthem kick in, Renton launches into a voiceover that encapsulates the smirking rebellion of him and his mates. “Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career,” Renton says derisively. “Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin openers.” But Renton chooses nothing of the kind: “Who needs reasons when you’ve got heroin?”
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11. “Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head”—B.J. Thomas, from Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969, dir. George Roy Hill)
The musical anachronism of B.J. Thomas’ pop hit in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, a Western set in the 1890s, caused some eye-rolling at the time. As it turns out, the picture helped pave the way for the sort of anachronistic soundtrack choices routinely used by filmmakers like Quentin Tarantino—and for good reason. The friendly shuffle of “Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head” proves an ideal accompaniment for Butch (Paul Newman) and Etta (Katharine Ross) to enjoy a bicycle ride. The tune earned a Best Original Song Oscar for writers Burt Bacharach and Hal David.
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10. “California Dreamin’”—The Mamas & the Papas, from Chungking Express (1994, dir. Wong Kar-wai)
Music is a big part of Chungking Express’ fizzy charm, but it’s the Mamas & the Papas’ “California Dreamin’” that makes the most indelible impression. Hong Kong filmmaker Wong Kar-wai makes the 1965 hit single the theme song for Faye (Faye Wong), the eccentric waif who works at the Midnight Express food stand, where she blares the tune constantly while bopping around to it. “You like noisy music?” asks Cop 663 (Tony Leung), the police officer who soon becomes the subject of Faye’s obsession. “Yes!” she shouts. “The louder, the better—stops me from thinking!”
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9. “Layla”—Derek and the Dominos, from Goodfellas (1990, dir. Martin Scorsese)
Few filmmakers use music as inventively as Martin Scorsese does. From the strident drums of the Ronettes’ “Be My Baby” that open Mean Streets (1973) to Badfinger’s “Baby Blue” that closes The Departed (2006), there is an abundance of legitimate candidates for this list. But Goodfellas’ use of “Layla” by Derek and the Dominos (essentially Eric Clapton and Duane Allman) is the intersection of cinema and music at its most dynamic. The number’s soaring slide guitar is the perfect soundtrack for the montage surveying the carnage that Jimmy Conway (Robert De Niro) has left in the wake of the Lufthansa armored-car robbery.
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8. “Rhapsody in Blue”—George Gershwin (composer), from Manhattan (1979, dir. Woody Allen)
The black-and-white cinematography of Gordon Willis showcases Manhattan at its most scenic—the Empire State Building, the Queensboro Bridge, etc.—a stunning visual accompaniment to Woody Allen’s narration as Isaac Davis, a writer who is monologuing a proposed opening to a book. His prose, delivered in voiceover, seeks to wring from the Big Apple every drop of metaphorical power he can muster. And the music? Why, it is the perfect aural representation of New York City: George Gershwin’s jazz-era epic, “Rhapsody in Blue.”
7. “Sister Christian”—Night Ranger, from Boogie Nights (1997, dir. Paul Thomas Anderson)
Nothing can stoke anxiety quite like a 1980s power ballad, especially when you happen to be in a strange house trying to sell cocaine to an unhinged, bathrobe-clad dude named Rahad (Alfred Molina) while his houseboy periodically lobs firecrackers just for the hell of it. Music blasts from Rahad’s personal mixtape—Night Ranger’s “Sister Christian” giving way to Rick Springfield’s “Jessie’s Girl”—so that every abrupt cut between tracks ratchets up the tension. Paul Thomas Anderson employs it all for a masterclass in humor-laden suspense. You’ll be motoring.
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6. “Ride of the Valkyries”—Richard Wagner (composer), from Apocalypse Now (1979, dir. Francis Ford Coppola)
Richard Wagner’s thunderous opening of Act III of Die Walküre (1870), the second opera in his Ring cycle, will forever be tied to Apocalypse Now and its gung-ho air cavalry commander, Lt. Col. Bill Kilgore (Robert Duvall). As Kilgore’s squadron begins its assault on a sleepy Vietnamese village, Kilgore directs “Ride of the Valkyries” to be blared from helicopters. “My boys love it!” he says, the music underscoring the intoxicating power-trip that comes from wanton destruction. Wagner is effectively weaponized.
5. “Stuck in the Middle with You”—Stealers Wheel, from Reservoir Dogs (1992, dir. Quentin Tarantino)
“You listen to K-Billy’s Super Sounds of the ‘70s?” Reservoir Dogs’ Mr. Blonde (Michael Madsen) asks Marvin Nash (Kirk Baltz), the police officer whom Blonde is torturing after having taken him captive amid a botched robbery. “It’s my personal favorite.” And with that, Blonde switches on a radio in time to strut around a bit to the folk-rock amble of “Stuck in the Middle with You.” Quentin Tarantino expertly uses the song as a counterpoint to the violence on screen, forever linking the Stealers Wheel single with Mr. Blonde using a straight razor to slice off Nash’s ear.
4. “Bohemian Rhapsody”—Queen, from Wayne’s World (1992, dir. Penelope Spheeris)
Five heads banging in unison in a blue AMC Pacer: has any needle-drop ever delivered such nonsensical joy? Or is it joyful nonsense? Let’s not quibble. As Wayne (Mike Myers), Garth (Dana Carvey), and company mouth every operatic curlicue of Queen’s six-minute opus before erupting at the (air) guitar break, they enact what we all secretly believe our own car singalongs to be. Myers reportedly fought hard for the studio to green-light the song—execs wanted something contemporary—but history vindicated him. “Bohemian Rhapsody” roared back up the U.S. charts, and Freddie Mercury, who was shown the scene shortly before his death in 1991, gave it his delighted blessing. Party on.
3. “Tiny Dancer”—Elton John, from Almost Famous (2000, dir. Cameron Crowe)
In Cameron Crowe’s valentine to 1970s rock, the band Stillwater appears to be coming apart—bruised egos, growing resentments—in the midst of a grueling tour. But Almost Famous understands the healing powers of a good singalong. The strains of Elton John’s “Tiny Dancer” drift over a radio. One by one, the band, its roadies, and the hangers-on join in until eventually the entire bus is belting out the 1971 song. “I have to go home,” says William (Patrick Fugit), the teen journalist who is covering the group for Rolling Stone magazine. He is corrected by Penny Lane (Kate Hudson), Stillwater’s reigning groupie and the object of William’s crush. “You are home,” she assures him. Case closed.
2. “The Sound of Silence” / “April Come She Will”—Simon & Garfunkel, from The Graduate (1967, dir. Mike Nichols)
Mike Nichols had been listening to Simon & Garfunkel throughout the shoot of The Graduate when it suddenly hit him: this should be the soundtrack for a movie about a disaffected young man. For a montage depicting Benjamin Braddock’s (Dustin Hoffman) summer of sex and aimless swimming-pool drifting, The Graduate uses the duo’s melancholic “The Sound of Silence” and “April Come She Will.” Nichols and editor Sam O’Steen had used them as placeholders to edit the montage, but Nichols eventually realized the songs needed to stay. “It was the only thing to do,” he later told writer Mark Harris. “‘Hello, darkness, my old friend’ was what was happening in Benjamin’s head.”
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1. “Thus Spoke Zarathustra”—Richard Strauss (composer), from 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968, dir. Stanley Kubrick)
It is nearly impossible to separate 2001: A Space Odyssey‘s use of “Thus Spoke Zarathustra” from its entrenchment in popular culture. From The Simpsons to Barbie, the 19th-century tone poem by Richard Strauss has been lampooned in movies, television, music—even sporting events. Stanley Kubrick employs its roaring fanfare three times in 2001 to mark the evolutionary leaps that are triggered by the monolith. Kubrick initially intended “Zarathustra,” like all of the classical music in the film, to be a temp track until it would be substituted by Alex North’s original score. At an early preview of the picture, however, North discovered that none of his music made it into the final cut. The composer must have been gobsmacked, but it was the right call.
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Honorable mentions: “American Girl”—Tom Petty, from One Battle After Another (2025, dir. Paul Thomas Anderson); “Blue Moon”—Sam Cooke, from An American Werewolf in London (1981, dir. John Landis); “A Change Is Gonna Come”—Sam Cooke, from Malcolm X (1992, dir. Spike Lee); “Cat People (Putting Out Fire)”—David Bowie, from Inglourious Basterds (2009, dir. Quentin Tarantino); “Day-O (The Banana Boat Song)”—Harry Belafonte, from Beetlejuice (1988, dir. Tim Burton); “Diamonds”—Rihanna, from Girlhood (2014, dir. Céline Sciamma); “(Don’t You) Forget About Me”—Simple Minds, from The Breakfast Club (1985, dir. John Hughes); “Dry the Rain”—The Beta Band, from High Fidelity (2000, dir. Stephen Frears); “Fire and Rain”—James Taylor, from Running on Empty (1988, dir. Sidney Lumet); “In Your Eyes”—Peter Gabriel, from Say Anything… (1989, dir. Cameron Crowe); “Love My Way”—Psychedelic Furs, from Call Me by Your Name (2017, dir. Luca Guadagnino); “Midnight, the Stars and You”—Ray Noble & His Orchestra featuring Al Bowlly, from The Shining (1980, dir. Stanley Kubrick); “Riki-Tiki-Tavi”—Donovan, from Barbarian (2022, dir. Zach Cregger); “Shitlist”—L7, from Natural Born Killers (1994, dir. Oliver Stone); “Still”—Geto Boys, from Office Space (1999, dir. Mike Judge); “Tubular Bells, Part I”—Mike Oldfield, from The Exorcist (1973, dir. William Friedkin); “Unchained Melody”—The Righteous Brothers, from Ghost (1990, dir. Jerry Zucker); “Wake Up”—Rage Against the Machine, from The Matrix (1999, dir. Lana Wachowski and Lilly Wachowski); “We’ll Meet Again”—Vera Lynn, from Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964, dir. Stanley Kubrick); “Where Is My Mind?”—The Pixies, from Fight Club (1999, dir. David Fincher)
Cutting to the Chase with Phil Bacharach 