#3. "Superstition" (Stevie Wonder)

My entire world as a little kid centered around Sesame Street.  My day didn't officially begin until I was sitting in front of the T.V., singing Come and play / everything's a-okay with a mouthful of Cheerios.
Way back in the day, our local ABC-TV affiliate in Western North Carolina had some sort of arrangement with PBS to broadcast Sesame Street weekday mornings in the time slot after Good Morning America.  Occasionally, they would dig into the vaults and rebroadcast episodes from early in the show's run.  (As the MuppetWiki site reminded me, Sesame Street used to shoot 130 episodes a year, even though it aired 260 days a year, which meant you were going to see some re-runs along the way.)
I remember waking up one summer morning (pretty sure it was July 1981), and the humidity was already stifling.  I wasn't in the best mood anyway because my mom had signed me up for a week-long vacation Bible school retreat, and my enthusiasm for having to pack into my pastor's station wagon every morning with 10 other kids for the 30-minute drive to Camp Lutheridge was nil to none.  Actually, I remember days #1 and 2 of the retreat weren't too bad: I met kids from other towns, we sang songs, ate peanut butter sandwiches, and some nice adults helped us make artsy-fartsy shakers out of dried lima beans and paper plates.  But when I found out there was a day #3 (and a day #4, and a day #5), well, that just felt like overkill.
Anyway, I remember being "difficult" that morning.  I didn't want breakfast, and I definitely didn't want to get out of my pajamas.  So my mom told me to go watch some Sesame Street until I snapped out of it.
I grumpily played "One of These Things (is Not Like the Others)" and watched Big Bird and Mr. Hooper spin educational-comedy gold, and then suddenly, there was Stevie Wonder on the screen.
I sat there, mesmerized as he and his band launched into a gritty rendition of his song "Superstition" from the fantastic Talking Book (1972).  It was unlike anything I'd ever seen or heard before.  I mean, here was this cat, looking as slick and cool as axle grease on a snow cone, churning out some of the deepest funk ever broadcast at 9 in the morning on a Wednesday.  It blew my little mind wide open.  And it shook me out of my doldrums.
(Sidebar: this is the main difference I see between today's Sesame Street and the show that I used to know: the show that I fell in love with was a funky, try-anything endeavor.  It was a safe haven for children, but it wasn't sanitized to the point of being sterile.  It didn't totally ignore that the world is often a big, scary place; it just taught little ones how to be smart and brave in an adult-sized world.)

Years later, I learned that Wonder's performance had originally aired in 1973.  Watching it again online as an adult, it still feels as fresh and vital as the day I saw it at age 3 (and even back then, the footage was already 8 years old).  That's not only a testament to Wonder as a consummate musician and performer, but a testament to the universal and enduring power of this song.  

Lyrically, "Superstition" is pretty much just a string of allusions to nonsense beliefs: broken mirrors bringing misfortune, unlucky number 13, etc.  As he told NPR's Deborah Williams back in December 2000, he came up with the vocal melody and merely plugged in the first words that popped into his head.
"The first thing that I put down were the drums and then after that I put the Clavinet down, and really, I just started singing the melody.  Probably the first thing—the only thing I can remember that I said that I remember keeping was the line 'Wash your face and hands'."

Honestly, he could have sung any old lyrics to that groove, and it still would have been a hit.  The backing track on this song is a thing of marvel.  With the exception of the horn section, Wonder played every single instrument: the interweaving Clavinet lines that sound like dueling rock guitars (more on that in a sec), the agile synth bass, and those strutting drums.  It's an exercise in arranging and rhythm that I don't think Wonder himself has ever bested.

Bar trivia factoid: Wonder actually wrote "Superstition" for his buddy, guitarist Jeff Beck.  Beck had guested on Wonder's song "Lookin' for Another Pure Love," so to return the favor, Wonder came up with "Superstition" for Beck and his new group (Beck, Bogert & Appice) to include on their upcoming album.

But then Motown/Tamla chief Berry Gordy heard the song, and he urged Wonder to record it himself instead, envisioning it as the centerpiece of the upcoming Talking Book.  So Wonder acquiesced and recorded his own rendition, using his Clavinet to recreate the chunky riff that he'd written with Beck's guitar in mind.

In short, there was a delay in the release of Beck, Bogert & Appice's album, so Motown/Tamla seized the opportunity to push out Wonder's "Superstition" in October 1972 before his pal's version could drop.  As you might imagine, there were some hurt feelings.  But considering Wonder guested on Beck's album Blow by Blow a few years later, I'd say all was forgiven and forgotten.