In the lead-up to the release of the live-action The Little Mermaid, Consequence will be looking back at the Disney Renaissance and how it shaped our culture. This time, we’re updating our ranked list of every Disney song ever — this feature originally ran in November 2016, and it has been updated to include animated Disney releases since that time, up to 2022’s Strange World.
Things make a real, lasting mark on your brain when you’re a kid. That encompasses the fears, loves, insecurities, dreams, and other things one will likely describe to a therapist as an adult, but other things stick, too. Songs, especially. The impulse children have to press “play” over and over and over again can leave all kinds of wonderful and sometimes useless things stuck in your head.
It’s part of why creating entertainment for children can be so meaningful, because with some talent and skill, it’s possible to give a young person a song they’ll carry with them for decade after decade. Well after they’ve stopped thinking about the works of A.A. Milne as anything but some stories they liked when they were young, one can hear the phrase “Deep in the Hundred Acre Wood” and know immediately what comes next, and what comes after that. That stuff lingers. It lasts. It matters.
That’s all a big part of why, for reasons beyond its massive size and reach and bank accounts, Disney matters. That’s not to diminish the very real cultural significance of the films in the Disney animated canon (that’s films released by Walt Disney Feature Animation, beginning with Snow White in 1937), many of which can (and do) appeal to adults as well as children. Beauty and the Beast is a stunning achievement in filmmaking, no matter the audience demographic.
But because so many of us were introduced to many of their films at a young age, those movies, and the songs they contain, have the potential to stay with a person for a lifetime. The relationship one has to those songs and movies may change — spoiler: not all of them have aged well — but they’re far from easily forgotten.
Why dig into this catalog? Well, because lists are fun, of course. But it’s also worthwhile to take a spin on the carousel and head back in time, revisiting characters and melodies first encountered at a young age. It’s valuable to then, while your mind remembers what it’s like to love something so unabashedly, explore some other stories and songs you missed.
Beyond all that stuff, Disney also makes some damn good songs, and great music is never a waste of time. Disney has employed some legendary composers and lyricists, from the powerhouse team of Alan Menken and Howard Ashman, to the Sherman Brothers, who wrote many, many songs that millions of people know by heart. It can’t be said that every single film has at least one musical gem, if only because a few have no songs at all. But most of them do. Remember Home on the Range? Neither did we. That thing’s got a few great, little tunes hidden away.
It’s also important to explore the stuff that helped to shape us as people, and our society as a whole. There’s some really racist shit in this list — some of those songs are still great songs; some are the kind of garbage it’s easy to dismiss. There are a lot of really restrictive ideas about gender — do you have any idea how many songs in the Disney catalog romanticize housework? — and some extremely unrealistic depictions of love and romance (again, see your therapist).
But there are also songs that inspire, challenge, and provoke thought. On reflection, that one scary song from Beauty and the Beast isn’t just scary, but illustrates the danger of a mob mentality and was written by a man dying of AIDS just as the ‘80s were being ushered out the door. Yes, it’s frightening, and it serves the plot. But it does more, because art can be both things. To a child, one story. To an adult, perhaps many stories in one. One thing’s for sure: There may be 55 films, but the stories are countless.
So here they are, all the songs in the Disney animated canon, from Aladdin to Zootopia. If Disney transformed a song in any way, from giving an old melody new lyrics (The Lion King’s “The Hula Song”) to creating a whole new work, it’s included. Here’s hoping there’s at least one new gem waiting for you in here or one priceless tune you didn’t even realize you remembered. It’s OK to sing along. No one’s watching. Just follow the bouncing ball.
— Allison Shoemaker
295. “Kanine Krunchies,” 101 Dalmatians (1961)
I’m sorry. I don’t believe any dog would be into this. Hey, also, do you have any enemies? Here’s a 10-hour loop of this song. — A. Shoemaker
294. “What Made the Red Man Red,” Peter Pan (1953)
So, to be clear, this song isn’t second-to-last on our list, beating only the worst fake commercial jingle in history, merely because it’s super-duper racist. It’s also trite, repetitive, boring, utterly predictable, and not even any fun. The animation is among the least interesting sequences in Peter Pan, the jokes fall flat — John smokes and then turns green! Hilarious! — and it’s difficult to even catch what’s being said most of the time. Flop on all counts. But yeah, this song is racist as hell. There’s also a side of misogyny, just for kicks. “Squaw gettum firewood!” For fuck’s sake. — A. Shoemaker
293. “The Siamese Cat Song,” Lady and the Tramp (1955)
Aunt Sarah’s twin cats are jerks. The Lady and the Tramp’s poorest-aged sequence sees poor Lady being framed for household destruction, as the two cats croon their way through chaos. Peggy Lee, as both cats, does her best, but between the instrumentation and the deeply, deeply unfortunate Asian accent the cats adopt, “The Siamese Cat Song” is just one of those Disney songs that doesn’t play as well with time no longer on its side. — Dominick Suzanne-Mayer
292. “Where the Dream Takes You,” Atlantis: The Lost Empire (2001)
Mya’s “Where the Dream Takes You” is the one major single from Atlantis: The Lost Empire, one of those Disney movies that makes audiences the world over say, “Oh, shit, that, was a movie that came out once.” It’s an addendum every bit as forgettable (if competently made) as the film in which it appears. — D. Suzanne-Mayer
291. “Bug Hunt,” Wreck-It Ralph (2012)
Yes, former From First to Last frontman Sonny Moore also has a Disney credit. Skrillex isn’t bad at what he does, the wide-ranging contempt for the musical trend he helped usher in notwithstanding, but “Bug Hunt” is hardly one of his more interesting or complex works. It’s loud, addled with ADHD, and works best in context of the film as background noise to a more engaging sequence. But for the parents who probably had to hear this thing for weeks a few years ago, the assessments might not be as charitable. — D. Suzanne-Mayer
290. “My Funny Friend and Me,” The Emperor’s New Groove (2000)
Sting’s fared better with Disney in the past, when the white man supergroup of he, Rod Stewart, and Bryan Adams put on one of the most melodramatic videos a Disney tie-in has ever had. Here, however, he offers up a gently ambient slow jam that doesn’t even fit the tone of the film in which it appears and was somehow up for Best Original Song at the Oscars despite this. Funny how a lot of the worst songs on the list exist as the result of Disney attempting to reach out to the masses instead of doing what they do best. — D. Suzanne-Mayer
289. “Say It with a Slap,” Fun & Fancy Free (1947)
Do bears actually slap each other as a part of their mating rituals? Seriously, do they? The internet has failed to turn up answers. Regardless, this song sucks. Sorry, “Bongo,” but if I want to listen to a troubling song about slapping as a part of a mating ritual that may or may not result in sexual coercion, I’ll just dial up “He Hit Me (And It Felt Like a Kiss).” — A. Shoemaker
288. “Little Wonders,” Meet the Robinsons (2007)
As singles from soundtracks go, “Little Wonders” isn’t one of the more distinctive among them. Delivered by storied Santana collaborator Rob Thomas over a simplistic post-alternative track, it’s full of the kind of Disney-ready platitudes that you’d expect out of a pop tie-in, but not necessarily from Danny Elfman, who penned the song. We all gotta get paid sometimes, one supposes. — D. Suzanne-Mayer
287. “A Huntin’ Man,” The Fox and the Hound (1981)
In 19 seconds, “A Huntin’ Man” manages to work in a shitty stereotype and two sentences that make absolutely no sense. — A. Shoemaker
286. “Johnny Appleseed,” Melody Time (1948)
Here’s Disney at its most on-the-nose evangelical. Taken from the Melody Time short, “Johnny Appleseed” is all about thanking the Lord for His many blessings in the most Little House on the Prairie manner imaginable. As Johnny croons “The Lord is good to me/ and so I thank the Lord” to a chirping bird, we won’t judge you if your eyes roll right out of your head. — D. Suzanne-Mayer
285. “When Can I See You Again?,” Wreck-It Ralph (2012)
More from Wreck-It Ralph, with this song … Wait. Cloying frayed-synth big-room EDM sounds? Twinkly glockenspiel that screams “pandering and childlike”? Lyrics so generic that they appear to have been assembled by a word processor gone awry with self-actualization mantras? A general sense of annoying homogeneity? Yep, it’s Owl City. — D. Suzanne-Mayer
284. “Welcome,” Brother Bear (2003)
“Welcome to our family time/ Welcome to our happy-to-be time/ This is a festival/ You know and best of all/ We’re here to share it all.” Phil Collins has many defenders (several Consequence of Sound writers among them), but this schlock is pretty much indefensible. Also, remember Brother Bear? No? Yeah, neither do we. — A. Shoemaker
283. “Anytime You Need a Friend,” Home on the Range (2004)
To be clear, there are actually two versions of “Anytime You Need a Friend”, and Alan Menken’s original composition would probably land a little higher. But this ranking concerns songs as they existed in theatrical release, and the Beu Sisters’ arena-country version (with record scratches, for some reason) that plays during Home on the Range’s end credits is a bit of disposable hokum. — D. Suzanne-Mayer
282. “The Future of Friendship/New Friends Song,” Ron’s Gone Wrong (2021)
Glass Animals’ Dave Bayley performs the vocals for this pop number, which is ostensibly about making new friends, but is really about your parents buying you a fancy new B-bot (the new robot toy at the center of this film). It’s not quite a jingle, and not enough of an earworm to stand out as a great pop song — like the movie in which it’s featured, it’s easy to forget it ever happened. — Liz Shannon Miller
281. “Skumps (Drinking Song),” Sleeping Beauty (1959)
“Skumps (Drinking Song)” isn’t one of Sleeping Beauty’s better musical performances. Essentially, it’s a quick drinking ballad and not even a memorable one considering that half of it is just a pair of kings talking about how it’s good to be kings and raising glasses to an eventual union of families. The other half is the word “Skumps.” There’s just not a lot to it. — D. Suzanne-Mayer
280. “A Most Befuddling Thing,” The Sword in the Stone (1963)
So Merlin’s views on romance are pretty messed up. Yes, the girl in question is a squirrel, and so is basically just acting as nature demands, but they made her look pretty human (as most Disney animals do), so it’s OK to be a little discombobulated by lyrics like “You’re wasting time resisting/ You’ll find the more you do/ The more she’ll keep insisting/ Her him has got to be you.” Oh, sorry, did I say discombobulated? Should have said discomBOOBulated. That’s what I meant. — A. Shoemaker
279. “Lack of Education,” The Fox and the Hound (1981)
The message of this jazzy, little Pearl Bailey number is basically as follows: “Hey, kid, someday you’re gonna get shot and taxidermied, and it’ll be your own fault, because you were stupid enough to be friends with a dog.” — A. Shoemaker
278. “The Clown Song,” Dumbo (1941)
“The Clown Song” ranks low for three chief reasons: 1) It’s barely a minute long; 2) It’s just a forgettable accordion jam, in which clowns briefly sing about demanding a raise; 3) Clowns are horrifying. — D. Suzanne-Mayer
277. “Tomorrow Is Another Day,” The Rescuers (1977)
You’ll find some serious nostalgia for The Rescuers in some circles, but this music-minded list won’t be one of them, as the film’s music definitely isn’t one of its stronger points. “Tomorrow Is Another Day” is of a kind of wispy balladry that the lesser Disney songbooks tend to fall into at times, to the point where it winds up in Anne Murray territory. No disrespect to the Canadian songstress; it’s just the least interesting kind of Disney ballad. — D. Suzanne-Mayer
276. “Casey at the Bat,” Make Mine Music (1946)
Come on now. You get to set “Casey at the Bat” to music, and this is what you do? Worse yet, the only stuff added to the poem is all about how women don’t know a damn thing about baseball, but they all show up to the games because Casey is so handsome. So, like, it’s their fault that there is no joy in Mudville? Nope. Shut it down. — A. Shoemaker
275. “Fun and Fancy Free”/Reprise, Fun and Fancy Free (1947)
It’s easy to laugh at the generally cornball nature of some of the oldest-fashioned Disney songs on this list, but good lord, the titular theme song “Fun & Fancy Free” is so sugary it might rot your teeth out of your head. Also, just tossing this out there: “If you should have a chronic ache/ pills won’t make you strong/ the only tonic you should take/ is a teaspoonful of song” is pretty horrible medical advice. Consider Fun & Fancy Free the Patch Adams of its time. — D. Suzanne-Mayer
274. “Higitus Figitus,” The Sword in the Stone (1963)
I grew up with “Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo”. I sang along with “Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo”. “Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo” was a friend of mine. You, sir, are no “Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo”. — A. Shoemaker
273. “Katrina,” The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad (1949)
“Katrina” might well be the cutest, most well-arranged Bing Crosby song about slut shaming ever recorded. That’s meant with tongue planted in cheek for the most part (cool it, commenters), but it’s slight to say the least, and the entire point of the song can be found near the end: “But Katrina will kiss and run /to her a romance is fun/ with always another one to start.” It’s like the “Hotline Bling” of Disney songs, in that it sounds like Katrina’s already having a fine time on her own. Ain’t like Bing was a saint, anyhow. — D. Suzanne-Mayer
272. “Make Mine Music,” Make Mine Music (1946)
Everything Dominick said about “Fun and Fancy Free” applies here. “Make mine music and I’ll dream of you/ Make mine music and the dream comes true.” Give it a rest, Disney! You’re coming on kinda strong. — A. Shoemaker
271. “Arabian Nights,” Aladdin (1992)
There are a number of songs on this list to which time has been unkind, songs that came from a different era from American history when casual, off-the-cuff racism was treated far more delicately than audiences today might allow. And then there’s “Arabian Nights”, which is just as bad and looks a little worse by dint of coming from a movie released less than 25 years ago. It’s one cliché about the Middle East after the next, all wrapped up in the general sentiment of “It’s barbaric, but hey, it’s home!” Actual line from the song, by the way. — D. Suzanne-Mayer
270. “Something That I Want,” Tangled (2010)
Grace Potter’s rock revival style would seem to be an ill fit for a Disney vehicle, even one as awash in modern storytelling and style as Tangled. It turns out that’s exactly right. The stomp-clap introduction and tediously Doors-y synths introduce a song that aims to match the subversive sass of the film’s scrappy heroine, but ends up feeling like yet another obligatory Disney finale. There’s going to be several more of these before we get to the good stuff, so tuck in. — D. Suzanne-Mayer
269. “Wherever the Trail May Lead,” Home on the Range (2005)
This song basically screams “adult contemporary chart-topper” right down to the big and totally unnecessary key change and the gratuitous falsetto. Sorry, Tim McGraw. This one’s a dud.. — A. Shoemaker
268. “Someday,” The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996)
Remember All-4-One? They were probably not the best choice to sing the super-synthy pop ballad that comes at the tail end of one if Disney’s darkest and least pop-filled films. Not a good song, but more importantly, it’s just a really, really inappropriate choice. Hope you enjoyed our grim movie. And now, All-4-One! Ooh, here comes the key change! — A. Shoemaker
267. “I’m Still Here (Jim’s Theme),” Treasure Planet (2002)
Not to be confused with the epic “I’m Still Here” from Stephen Sondheim’s Follies, this “I’m Still Here” is a generic pop ballad written by the chief Goo Goo Doll, John Rzeznik. The best and worst thing one can say about it is that it’s no “Iris”. But hey, the movie’s not bad. — A. Shoemaker
266. “Without You,” Make Mine Music (1946)
The sequence itself is very pretty, even if it does look like a screensaver I had in the ‘90s, but this is the worst kind of generic love song. — A. Shoemaker
265. “The Sword in the Stone,” The Sword in the Stone (1963)
Long before Fred Darian gets going, the toothless acoustic melody that drives “The Sword and the Stone” already suggests the worst tendencies of folksy ‘70s music. It’s a brief, mercifully short introduction to a film that definitely lands low in the grand Disney power ranking, and Darian’s ponderous warble hardly helps to dissuade viewers from the sense that what’s about to follow is going to be something of a letdown. — D. Suzanne-Mayer
264. “Healing Incantation/Prologue/The Tear Heals,” Tangled (2010)
This is very pretty, but good lord, the healing incantation shows up in Tangled so many times that it loses all its potency. The best thing about that important haircut Rapunzel gets is that it means we (almost) never have to hear this thing again. –Allison Shoemaker
263. “Always Know Where You Are,” Treasure Planet (2002)
Pick your poison: There are two versions of “Always Know Where You Are” from Treasure Planet, one of Disney’s very few outright duds since the Disney Renaissance began. One is by the Goo Goo Dolls’ John Rzeznik, the one that closes the film, and the other is by BBMak. Neither is particularly good, and Rzeznik’s version in the film is the perfect kind of pop-rock to which one might walk out of a movie theater, dodging small children all the while. — D. Suzanne-Mayer
262. “Fee Fi Fo Fum,” Fun & Fancy Free (1947)
Fun and Fancy Free’s Wayne the Giant actually appeared in a number of Disney properties thereafter, but was never the villain in the way he is when he delivers the brief, silly “Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum”. Like many of Disney’s omnibus film songs, it won’t linger for any length of time, and it’s basically a song about a giant who doesn’t seem to have the greatest-ever grasp on his giant powers, to joking effect. — D. Suzanne-Mayer
261. “They’re the Clades!,” Strange World (2022)
It feels weird to even be ranking “They’re the Clades!” on such a list. Strange World isn’t a musical, and as such “They’re the Clades!” is less of a song and more of a low-effort theme. It doesn’t strive to have a strong emotional core or boast a soaring melody, it just is. Because of the bottom-tier standards the song sets for itself, it’s hard to call the tune outright “bad,” but that being said, will it make anyone’s Disney tunes playlist? Anyone performing it on karaoke night? Not a chance. – Jonah Krueger
260. “Humiliation,” The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996)
We probably shouldn’t even count this one, as it’s largely instrumental, but there are some voices at the end there, so here it is. It’s a great piece of orchestration, but not much else. Meh. — A. Shoemaker
259. “Try Everything,” Zootopia (2016)
“Try Everything” is Shakira’s nondescript bit of uplift that plays both during and at the end of monster hit Zootopia. In context of the film, it’s a sweet enough pop track about the value of keeping an open mind and discovering the much larger world beyond the one you’ve always known, but the third verse is the same as the first, and it’s another song by a popular artist that plays too standard to stick out in the way the film wishes it to. — D. Suzanne-Mayer
258. “Rescue Aid Society,” The Rescuers (1977)
The best thing that can be said about “Rescue Aid Society” is that it’s not a terrible ballad. But this movie has one honest-to-god musical number, and it’s a bunch of mice from all over the world pledging to save people who are in trouble. Somehow, this piece of nothing was all they came up with. Missed opportunity. — A. Shoemaker
257. “Hail to the Princess Aurora,” Sleeping Beauty (1959)
“Hail to the Princess Aurora/ All of her subjects adore her.” Repetitive, slow, too long, and contains slant rhyme? No thank you. — A. Shoemaker
256. “Never Knew I Needed,” The Princess and the Frog (2009)
Here’s more from the realm of “this doesn’t belong here”: compared to most of The Princess and the Frog’s dynamic, locally-minded soundtrack, “Never Knew I Needed” may as well have been recorded for an entirely different movie. There’s none of the Louisiana sound that makes some of the soundtrack’s better songs hum; in place of this is Ne-Yo’s end credits song, a generic pop ballad about love’s capacity to change lives that feels shoehorned into the film. Give the people what they want, Disney. What they want is more Keith David. — D. Suzanne-Mayer
255. “The Sailor’s Hornpipe,” Alice in Wonderland (1951)
There are so, so many songs in Alice in Wonderland. Get ready. This one’s inoffensive, but it’s a traditional melody with some original lyrics, and it’s over in under 40 seconds, instrumental break included. So here it sits. This is what happens when you do the bare minimum. — A. Shoemaker
254. “Ichabod,” The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad (1949)
It starts out promisingly enough (“Who’s that comin’ down the street/ Are they shovels or are they feet”), but “Ichabod Crane” loses steam fast. Bing Crosby does his Bing Crosby thing, but basically it’s just a bunch of people watching a guywalk down the street at an obnoxiously slow pace while reading a book. Wake me when it’s over. — A. Shoemaker
253. “That’s What Makes the World Go Round,” The Sword in the Stone (1963)
Here’s a kind of Disney song practically custom-made for the old Disney Sing-Along videos, but one that doesn’t really stand out on its own. As we’ve already established, The Sword and the Stone is full of this kind of song, and “That’s What Makes the World Go Round” is little more than a loping diatribe that Merlin lapses into when he turns himself and Arthur into fish just to prove a point about the animal kingdom. Plus, his advice of “You see my boy it’s nature’s way/ Upon the weak the strong ones prey/ The human life it’s also true/ The strong will try to conquer you” isn’t all that reassuring for an insecure kid. — D. Suzanne-Mayer
252. “The Elegant Captain Hook,” Peter Pan (1953)
As with “Casey at the Bat” and “Rescue Aid Society”, this one gets docked for being such a missed opportunity. The topic of this song is one of the best villains of all time. How is this all they could come up with? Cruella DeVil got a world-class anthem, and all she wanted was a coat. — A. Shoemaker
251. “Poor Aurora/Sleeping Beauty,” Sleeping Beauty (1959)
Yes, this is very pretty. Spoiler: All the songs from Sleeping Beauty are very pretty, because they’re all Tchaikovsky. However, there are others who use the beautiful music to much greater effect. She’s sleeping. And she’s beautiful. We get it. — A. Shoemaker
250. “Mine, Mine, Mine,” Pocahontas (1995)
A sort of spiritual companion to “Heigh-Ho”, but with a distinct overtone of cultural exploitation that Snow White never really broached in its time, “Mine, Mine, Mine” is a bit of wordplay that also stands as one of the less interesting Pocahontas songs. It works two ways, because it’s about selfishness, and also about Governor Ratcliffe (David Ogden Stiers) plotting to strip-mine the whole of Virginia for fame and fortune back in England. It’s a loose interpretation of history, and a looser kind of villain ballad, and doesn’t really land. — D. Suzanne-Mayer
249. “One Little Slip,” Chicken Little (2005)
It’s been, one little slip since … Never mind that.
The joke breaks down with the syllabic structure. Anyway, Barenaked Ladies contributed “One Little Slip” to Chicken Little, one of Disney’s earlier in-house forays into computer animation. It’s a milquetoast pop tune for a movie that could be considered much the same, and more proof that the band generally released all the wrong singles throughout their popular run. Not that it matters here, but a lot of Maroon really, really works, and we don’t get to write about BNL too often anymore, so that can just stay there. — D. Suzanne-Mayer
248. “Great Spirits,” Brother Bear (2003)
This mostly harmless opener from Brother Bear would probably ranked higher, though not much higher, but it committed a flagrant foul: blatant misuse of Tina Turner. Seriously, you get Tina Turner to agree to sing a song for your movie, and this is what you give her? Red card! — A. Shoemaker
247. “How D’Ye Do and Shake Hands,” Alice in Wonderland (1951)
The Tweedles get several songs in Alice. Two are sort of annoying, but mostly weird and cool. This one, though, is just annoying. Shut up, Tweedles. — A. Shoemaker
246. “True to Your Heart,” Mulan (1998)
Strangely enough, “True To Your Heart” has also appeared in a non-Disney movie, with Raven-Symone covering it years after Mulan for Ella Enchanted. The Disney version is not so Raven, however, instead performed by the all-star team of Stevie Wonder and… 98 Degrees. As you’d expect of a Disney ballad delivered by Nick Lachey’s onetime outfit, it’s not exactly a barn burner, and even by the standards of end-credit songs in Disney movies, it’s connected loosely. The film’s larger sentiments end up reduced to a simple “Trust your heart/ And you’ll see the light,” and it’s hardly a fitting end to one of Disney’s more thematically interesting features. — D. Suzanne-Mayer
245. “If I Never Knew You,” Pocahontas (1995)
The version of “If I Never Knew You” in Pocahontas is notably different from the one originally recorded for the film. The original was a duet between Mel Gibson and Judy Kuhn as John Smith and Pocahontas, but was abandoned in favor of a faster pace for the overall film. However, a version recorded by Jon Secada and Shanice plays over the end credits, one full of treacly synths and treaclier observations about love being the ultimate unifying force against racism. Or something. It’s in keeping with ‘90s music’s most unabashedly sappy tendencies, but if you’ve ever wanted to hear Mel Gibson sing a Disney ballad, it’s online for your perusal. — D. Suzanne-Mayer
244. “Let Me Be Good to You,” The Great Mouse Detective (1986)
Here’s a song where a mouse strips. It includes the lyric “I’ll take off all my blues.” It’s not particularly funny, sexy, or even deliberately weird (though make no mistake, it’s definitely weird). But the worst offense of all is that it’s basically just “Let Me Entertain You” from Gypsy, only not good. — A. Shoemaker
243. “No Way Out,” Brother Bear (2003)
Love him or hate him, Phil Collins knows his way around a heartfelt, remorseful ballad. But if you’re up for a song with absolutely no subtlety (“Of all the things I hid from you/ I cannot hide the shame/ And I pray someone, something will come, to take away the pain”), you’re way better off with “Against All Odds”. –Allison Shoemaker
242. “A Pirate’s Life,” Peter Pan (1953)
Much like “Skumps”, “A Pirate’s Life” just doesn’t have much to it. It comes and goes in Peter Pan, sung by the pirate crew as they do assorted pirate things. It doesn’t really say anything more than “piracy is fun, if dangerous,” although it does have the rather unnerving ending of Skylights being shot in mid-song. Truly, piracy is a life unworthy of more polite, decent people. Keep that in mind, torrenters the world over. The life of a pirate is short. — D. Suzanne-Mayer
241. “Son of Man,” Tarzan (1999)
If this song came up on a Pandora station, you might think it was “We Didn’t Start the Fire” for the first 15 seconds or so. Whether you’d be disappointed to discover it’s the worst song from Tarzan probably depends on your feelings about Phil Collins, Billy Joel, and Belgians in the Congo. Thumbs down. (Pandora? Get it?) — A. Shoemaker
240. “God Help the Outcasts,” The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996)
While some of Disney’s work has hewed toward the pious, “God Help the Outcasts” is a more direct example; delivered by Heidi Mollenhauer as Esmeralda, it’s a ballad that ends up outshone by some of the other Hunchback balladry. For a film largely about respect for the pitiable, “God Helps the Outcasts” deals heavily in low-swinging pity, begging that “God help my people/ We look to You, still/ God help the outcasts/ Or nobody will.” It’s a song that aims for empathy and lands on vague sentiment. — D. Suzanne-Mayer
239. “Tulou Tagaloa,” Moana (2016)
When Moana opens, you hear one voice. Olivia Foa’i of Te Vaka (a celebrated Oceanic music group founded by Opetaia Foa’i, one of the film’s composers) unleashes a killer vocal, drawing you into a world where lava monsters are a) real and b) not what they seem, maybe? It’s thrilling, instantly epic, and ultimately kind of brief and meaningless since it transitions into a scene where a Grandma is scaring some little kids. Still, a lovely and mood-setting, if brief, piece of music. — A. Shoemaker
238. “Alice In Wonderland,” Alice in Wonderland (1951)
As this list goes on, you’ll notice a trend: the introductory songs to most Disney movies, particularly from older generations, are all serviceable without sticking out in any particular way. The same can be said for “Alice in Wonderland”, from the opening credits of the film of same name. If anything, it’s surprising how straightforward the song is compared to the impish absurdism of so much of what follows. — D. Suzanne-Mayer
237. “Let’s Sing a Gay Little Spring Song,” Bambi (1942)
The choral singing in <em>Bambi</em> can be very effective at times, but this isn’t one of them. Imagine what a song with that title would sound like. Yeah, it sounds exactly like that. Be right back, gotta deal with this sugar coma. — A. Shoemaker
236. “Once Upon a Wintertime,” Melody Time (1948)
This song is a damn Christmas Mad-Lib. It’s like one of those SEO-creating bots wrote a holiday song. Merry bells, chestnut mares, ice-skating, jingling spines (yep), blah, blah, blah. The ice-skating rabbits are cute, but even they get pretty obnoxious when the lady rabbit melts the ice off the dude rabbit with her smokin’ hot bod. — A. Shoemaker
235. “Very Good Advice,” Alice in Wonderland (1951)
What a disappointment this song is. “Very Good Advice” may be the only song on this list that’s totally tanked by a performance. Kathryn Beaumont’s performance as Alice is, by and large, really wonderful, but whoever told her to fake cry through most of this song should have been fired. Melody? What melody? I’ve got to do some more sniffling. — Allison Shoemaker
234. “And He Shall Smite the Wicked,” The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996)
Now for something different: a Disney song performed fully in Latin by the English National Opera Company, as Frollo makes his final stand against Quasimodo and is dragged to hell for his troubles. It’s a short one, but an effectively menacing accompaniment to a character who hides behind piety to commit all manner of sins. And the booming choral accompaniment has quite a bit to say on the topic of Frollo’s well-earned exit: “Day of wrath, that day/ Shall consume the world in ashes/ When the judge is come/ When the damned shall be cast down/ Into the searing flames.” Damn, Disney. — D. Suzanne-Mayer
233. “Blue Bayou,” Make Mine Music (1946)
“Blue Bayou” actually started as a deleted segment from Fantasia, but the self-proclaimed tone poem is far more memorable for the animation of the Make Mine Music segment in which it appears than for the song itself. To say that the Ken Darby Singers’ rendition is sleepy would be an understatement; it’s a lovely, harp-driven melody that might just lull you to sleep in no time flat. — D. Suzanne-Mayer
232. “Look Through My Eyes,” Brother Bear (2003)
Phil Collins was Disney’s go-to guy for a while there, huh? Near the end of Brother Bear comes “Look Through My Eyes”, a well-meaning, upbeat song about following one’s heart to the daylight that trots out the greatest hits of the modern soft-rock playbook. You get: attentive, uptempo, non-distracting piano; light electronic flourishes; acoustic guitar; some nondescript electric guitar for flavor; and Phil Collins. — D. Suzanne-Mayer
231. “Scales and Arpeggios,” The Aristocats (1970)
So here’s the thing. “Scales and Arpeggios” is a weird scene in the middle of The AristoCats, as it basically invites viewers to take in the piano lesson of a privileged cat, as she sings a song about that lesson. It owes more than a little bit of spiritual debt to The Sound of Music’s “Do Re Mi”, but imagine that song if it were sung by a chirpy child. If that doesn’t sound good to you, well, you might just want to move on to other parts of the film’s soundtrack. And Marie’s observation that this is sheet music theory “every cultured student knows” comes off a little smug. Take it down a notch, cat child. — D. Suzanne-Mayer
230. “Honor to Us All,” Mulan (1998)
Poor Mulan. Seriously. It all works out for her in the end, but she spends quite a bit of her film at the mercy of pretty much everyone else around her. Take “Honor to Us All” for instance, which frames her preparation rituals for courtship as a gauntlet of demands from her grandfather and pretty much her entire village at large. Her bather compares her to a “sow’s ear,” and it doesn’t get a lot better from there, with the busybody bystanders instructing her about how important it is for her to be complacent and attentive. — D. Suzanne-Mayer
229. “My Favorite Dream,” Fun and Fancy Free (1947)
“Mickey and the Beanstalk” seems like a great idea, but man, it’s kind of a bore. “My Favorite Dream” is a cookie-cutter ballad with cookie-cutter lyrics that basically only exists so that the harp can give Mickey a window in which to steal the giant’s key. It puts the giant to sleep, so I guess the giant and I have that in common. — A. Shoemaker
228. “The Next Right Thing,” Frozen II (2019)
An empathic song about depression and what it takes to pull yourself out of it, there’s a lot to appreciate in “The Next Right Thing,” especially Kristen Bell’s delicate vocals and the central message of the lyrics. But unlike other Kristen Anderson-Lopez and Robert Lopez tunes, there’s no memorable hook or melody, despite being three minutes and 30 seconds long. (Other songs on this list do a lot more with less.) — L.S. Miller
227. “Once Upon a Time in New York City,” Oliver & Company (1988)
Some of Oliver & Company has aged very, very well. Some of it sounds exactly like you’d expect a movie from the late ‘80s to sound, in the best possible way. This one just sounds dated (not because of Huey Lewis, either). And oh, god, that chorus. Doesn’t get much more maudlin than that. Luckily, the film’s real show-stopper comes in pretty hot on its heels. — A. Shoemaker
226. “The Bells of Notre Dame,” The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996)
“The Bells of Notre Dame” is delivered by Clopin, in telling children of the legend of Quasimodo, a name that Clopin translates outright in mid-song as “half-formed.” It’s a cruel opening, one that recounts how Frollo was perilously close to just drowning Quasimodo because of his appearance suggesting a demon’s. A lot of Disney movies don’t play around when it comes to the brutal realities of the world, but as you’ll see time and again as this list goes on, The Hunchback of Notre Dame is especially pronounced in its unflinching cruelty. — D. Suzanne-Mayer
