PONDERING POP HISTORY from a generation or two away, it’s easy to forget what things actually sounded like from inside the zeitgeist. As Western culture worked itself into a complicated cultural froth, the early Seventies reflected those complexities in its hit parade with music that was evocative, entertaining and, for better or worse, unavoidable. Which is to say that the tunes on this list constitute much of the DNA of anyone alive at the time. Radio still mattered more than TV, and our seemingly endless culture wars were only beginning. New constituencies were arising and pop had even started reflecting on its own history. It was the best of times, it was the – oh, you know. And so, to the best of our recollections, here’s the greatest music you couldn’t avoid hearing in the early Seventies.
At 18, although he was making a reasonable living from his business, he decided to go to university. “I didn’t need a degree,” he says. “But I was a quiet kid, spending all my time behind a computer screen, and I needed to become more sociable.”
James Brown, “Get Up (I Feel Like Being a) Sex Machine” (1970)
The Seventies was quite possibly the Western world's sexiest decade. The post-birth control and pre-AIDS window of opportunity saw the Sixties' utopian fantasies elaborated into hitherto unimagined new possibilities. James Brown got in on the libidinous free-for-all early with a landmark single that promoted his, er, endurance and vitality with a simple euphoric groove. His young, hungry and economical new band, the J.B.'s, featured brothers Bootsy and Catfish Collins on bass and guitar, respectively, and Jabo Starks on drums. Bobby Byrd plays hype man in this magically off-the-cuff rearrangement of the horn-heavy James Brown Orchestra's "Give It Up or Turnit a Loose."
James Brown, “Get Up (I Feel Like Being a) Sex Machine” (1970) The Seventies was quite possibly the Western world's sexiest decade. The post-birth control and pre-AIDS window of opportunity saw the Sixties' utopian fantasies elaborated into hitherto unimagined new possibilities. James Brown got in on the libidinous free-for-all early with a landmark single that promoted his, er, endurance and vitality with a simple euphoric groove. His young, hungry and economical new band, the J.B.'s, featured brothers Bootsy and Catfish Collins on bass and guitar, respectively, and Jabo Starks on drums. Bobby Byrd plays hype man in this magically off-the-cuff rearrangement of the horn-heavy James Brown Orchestra's "Give It Up or Turnit a Loose."
Jackson 5, “I’ll Be There” (1970) When the Jacksons followed their 1969 debut "I Want You Back" with the equally high-energy delights "ABC" and "The Love You Save," their ebullience seemed boundless, a new font of Motown optimism for a new decade. But it was the brothers' first ballad that would become the label's all-time best-seller, retaining that title for more than a decade. No preteen has ever sung as credibly about eternal devotion as Michael Jackson, his performance beginning with a calm childlike sweetness that he ruptures boldly with an adult rasp. And when he erupts into a climactic shout of "Just look over your shoulders, honey" that echoes the Four Tops "Reach Out (I'll Be There)," he's glancing back at the past to suggest greatness to come.
George Harrison, “My Sweet Lord” (1970)
After the Beatles anointed the first half of 1970 with the sweetly spiritual "Let It Be," George Harrison aimed for the heavens in December with "My Sweet Lord." Harrison combined the Hare Krishna mantra, the Christian hymn "Oh Happy Day," some impeccably bluesy slide guitar, Phil Spector's wall of sound and the Chiffons' "He's So Fine" (at least according to a United States District Court), into an amazing one-size-fits-all example of maximalist pop perfection. Or as John Lennon opined in a Rolling Stone interview: "Every time I put the radio on, it's 'oh my Lord' – I'm beginning to think there must be a God!"
James Brown, “Get Up (I Feel Like Being a) Sex Machine” (1970) The Seventies was quite possibly the Western world's sexiest decade. The post-birth control and pre-AIDS window of opportunity saw the Sixties' utopian fantasies elaborated into hitherto unimagined new possibilities. James Brown got in on the libidinous free-for-all early with a landmark single that promoted his, er, endurance and vitality with a simple euphoric groove. His young, hungry and economical new band, the J.B.'s, featured brothers Bootsy and Catfish Collins on bass and guitar, respectively, and Jabo Starks on drums. Bobby Byrd plays hype man in this magically off-the-cuff rearrangement of the horn-heavy James Brown Orchestra's "Give It Up or Turnit a Loose."
Jackson 5, “I’ll Be There” (1970) When the Jacksons followed their 1969 debut "I Want You Back" with the equally high-energy delights "ABC" and "The Love You Save," their ebullience seemed boundless, a new font of Motown optimism for a new decade. But it was the brothers' first ballad that would become the label's all-time best-seller, retaining that title for more than a decade. No preteen has ever sung as credibly about eternal devotion as Michael Jackson, his performance beginning with a calm childlike sweetness that he ruptures boldly with an adult rasp. And when he erupts into a climactic shout of "Just look over your shoulders, honey" that echoes the Four Tops "Reach Out (I'll Be There)," he's glancing back at the past to suggest greatness to come.
George Harrison, “My Sweet Lord” (1970) After the Beatles anointed the first half of 1970 with the sweetly spiritual "Let It Be," George Harrison aimed for the heavens in December with "My Sweet Lord." Harrison combined the Hare Krishna mantra, the Christian hymn "Oh Happy Day," some impeccably bluesy slide guitar, Phil Spector's wall of sound and the Chiffons' "He's So Fine" (at least according to a United States District Court), into an amazing one-size-fits-all example of maximalist pop perfection. Or as John Lennon opined in a Rolling Stone interview: "Every time I put the radio on, it's 'oh my Lord' – I'm beginning to think there must be a God!"
Derek and the Dominoes, “Layla” (1970) For much of the Sixties, guitar hero Eric Clapton hopped from supergroup to supergroup, but he inaugurated a new decade by rediscovering the blues and assembling a tight, fierce band that matched his commitment. Clapton's then-unrequited desire for Patti Boyd (the wife of his buddy George Harrison) elicited the most passionate performance of his career.
Grateful Dead, “Uncle John’s Band” (1970) The drift in popularity from AM to FM radio during the Seventies eroded the mass audience upon which pop hits depended. Hippies and fellow travelers could increasingly be found glued to free-form FM stations, and no underground hit glowed quite as mysteriously as the opening track on Workingman's Dead, a sepia-tinted declaration of the Grateful Dead's newly expert vocal harmonizing. The suggestion to "come hear Uncle John's Band," according to lyricist Robert Hunter, is nothing less than "the coaxing and cajoling of the forces of generational unity." When the single was dropped from the airwaves for cursing "Goddamn, well I declare/Have you seen the like?" it only confirmed every subterranean conspiracy theories.
Lynn Anderson, “Rose Garden” (1970)
In the Seventies, country music burst into the mainstream like never before, and women were at the forefront – you couldn't help but overhear how Loretta Lynn's "Coal Miner's Daughter" and Dolly Parton's "Jolene" were redefining Nashville. But the biggest country crossover hit of its day, written by the country-soul great Joe South, came along at a time when, as Lynn Anderson herself put it, "people were trying to recover from the Vietnam years," and it perfectly captured the spirit of the time, an optimistic anthem that also served as a splash of cold water to the face.