A Guilty Pleasure beat, but can you dance to it?

There are two kinds of music in the world: The albums you listen to with the car windows rolled down, and the ones you only enjoy when the windows are rolled up tight.

We present a few tributes to the latter. Billboard can keep its Top 40; we're sticking with our Hidden 12.

Not that there's any shame in loving these tunes.  Many a talented artist appears on the list, though if Phish's Trey Anastasio is sitting around Googling himself one night, he might wonder how he ended up on the same page as Paula Abdul.

But if you're stuck in rush-hour traffic, and that hot convertible pulls up alongside you, bass a-pumpin', it's a safe bet you don't want to be caught bopping along to Britney's Pepsi jingle and turning the volume on that Neil Diamond CD to 11.

Phish
This band may be best known for two things: appearing on the medical-marijuana episode of "The Simpsons" ("If Phish don't see a prescription slip, we are outta here!") and having a Ben & Jerry's flavor named in their honor, presumably to combat the munchies. The prototypical Phish enthusiast — or "phan" — reeks of patchouli and is festooned with dreadlocks and hemp necklaces. Does their music have redeeming qualities for those who do not partake of the ganja? From the way friends taunt me when they see "A Live One" on my iPod, you wouldn't think so.

Elektra / Wea

But a band doesn't survive over two decades with virtually no radio play simply because listeners are too baked to know better. I adore Phish's relentless optimism and hypnotic wordplay. Like the Beatles, they continually reinvent themselves, incorporating elements of rock and jazz, even tongue-in-cheek country. Unlike almost every other act in existence, Phish knows there's more to sing about than love and loneliness: hedge mazes and llamas and aliens sipping lemonade with a girl named Kitty Malone. To me, they'll always be the music of long summer drives and sleepless nights — even if I never figure out what they mean by “Appletoast, bedheated, furblanket rat.”  —Kim Rollins

Broadway show tunes

Capitol

I call it my Broadway revival.  While visiting friends in Napa Valley, our host sat down at his baby grand and asked for a song.  My love of Broadway show tunes was soon back out in the open. It was never a secret, just a passion pushed aside.  Lost opportunity and respect for others no longer permits belting out Rodgers and Hart in the shower, Cole Porter in the kitchen, or Sondheim in the living room.  Now my stage is my car.  Up before the sun, on the road with coffee in mug, there is some warming up … traffic reports, headline news … but when the coffee kicks in, it’s Fats Waller and Andrew Lloyd Webber. It’s turning into a legacy.  My 14-year-old niece just invited me to a concert.  I paused, curious to discover the teen idol of the month. She grinned, and said, “It’s Linda Eder … I think you’ll really like her.” My heart skipped a beat. “Like her?” I asked, putting my arm around her.  Who would have thought that a woman’s rendition of Don Quixote would span a generation?  Ms. Eder’s next release is a tribute to Judy Garland.  My niece and I can’t wait.  —Dara Brown

Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass

Shout Factory

It's probably a stretch to claim that the smooth near-Muzak of tunes like Herb Alpert's “A Taste of Honey” was ever quite hip. Alpert's faux-Mexican ballads probably resonated more in Ohio than Oaxaca. And let's not even talk about “Tijuana Sauerkraut.” None of it matters. Alpert always generated his own cloud of cool, even if I stumbled upon my Dad's old LPs a decade after the Brass' late-60s fame had waned. He was the kind of dude who could strike an unabashed pose in his vibrant caballero shirts, hold a trumpet like a deadly weapon and convince a scalding-hot babe to pose for an album cover in nothing but whipped cream. And that horn? Well, Alpert was a smooth master, an icon to us gawky teen brassmen who moaned about how clarinetists saw all the action. He took his fame and built A&M into a huge independent label. Nearly four decades later, Herb remains a big man in the music business. You could mock his music, and his style, but he was a trumpet king, and he got the girls. —Jon Bonné

MORE FROM GULTY PLEASURES 2005

Living the Guilty Pleasure life

Living the Guilty Pleasure life Tuning in to the Guilty Pleasures channel Now playing at the Guilty Pleasures cineplex A Guilty Pleasure beat, but can you dance to it?   Add Gulty Pleasures 2005 headlines to your news reader: