20 essential glam, progressive and baroque songs from the 1970s

We recently highlighted 20 essential rock songs from the 1970s. That list stuck primarily to what we would today call hard or classic rock but there were some slight genre crossovers into metal, punk, and folk rock. And there was one song – “Money” by Pink Floyd – that bleeds into progressive rock.

Pink Floyd had evolved as a psychedelic band in the late ‘60s. Many of their songs were rooted in a blues tradition, but the organ and other odd instrumentation were just as important as guitar, bass, and drums. Rhythm was prone to shift and syncopate like jazz. Pink Floyd’s music was rock & roll, but it experimented. It was theatrical – at times baroque.

I thought it might be fun to look at other 1970s songs – songs with one foot in classic rock & roll, and the other … well, the other could be anywhere. The ‘70s offered bands plenty of room to build on the Beatles and the Beach Boys. They could stretch the definition of a pop song and, if interesting enough, find success on the radio.

Glam, progressive and baroque songs from the 1970s that make for essential listening

There was glam rock, that reveled in the plasticity and theatricality of pop music. There were baroque compositions that explored creative song structures and instrumentation. And there was a continuation of progressive experimentation, much like what Pink Floyd achieved in “Money.”

Here are 20 such songs from the 1970s. Most were rock & roll songs. Others, not so much. But none of them sounded much like the chord progressions coming from classic hard rock, metal or folk rock at the time. They each helped expand the boundaries of what you could do in pop and rock music. And leaving aside their influence, they are all just killer pieces of music to enjoy.

“I Love You, You Big Dummy” by Captain Beefheart and the Magic Band (1970)

Don Van Vliet was something of an Orson Welles who never had his Citizen Kane. His astonishing versatility and unquenchable thirst to take traditional blues into unchartered territory resulted in Trout Mask Replica (produced by Frank Zappa) in 1969. Critics gushed. The public yawned.

Van Vliet had no objection to success but was unwilling to tamp down his creative impulses enough to achieve it. Lick My Decals Off, Baby, the first album on which he assumed the producer’s role, leaned ever so slightly toward a more coherent sound, and “I Love You, You Big Dummy” came close to merging that improvisatory explosion with a funny song that had recognizable lyrics.

But popular success was still out of his reach. The fact that many of the most vital post-punk rockers, including the Buzzcocks and Magazine, chose to cover this song gives some indication of just how influential the Captain was to progressive music that came years and years later.

“LA Woman” by the Doors (1971)

They didn’t have a traditional bass player. They had a psychedelic beat poet writing obscure lyrics and singing them in a deep baritone that ran counter to most rock & roll vocals at the time. And they seemed capable of shifting from blues stompers to free jazz navel-gazing in a heartbeat.

Side one of their sixth and final fully realized album, LA Woman, closed with the title track, a seven-minute love song to their home city, with a cinematic breadth and scope that befitted Tinseltown. It contained virtually everything Jim Morrison and his band had developed by this point. Less than three months after its release. Morrison would be dead, and the Doors would effectively be closed.

“Roundabout” by Yes (1971)

Nobody really understood many of singer Jon Anderson’s lyrics, but when Yes was at their best, it didn’t matter. Anderson's voice and the harmonies from bass player Chris Squire were just another instrument. Squire’s bass powers through the more flowery, folky parts of “Roundabout,” and the recently-joined keyboard player Rick Wakeman’s wall of instruments swirl all about, creating a propulsive dream of sound. They trimmed the eight-minute album cut down to just over three minutes for radio play and scored one of the biggest progressive rock hits of all time.

“Jeepster” by T Rex (1971)

If only Marc Bolan had lived. He was the mirror image of David Bowie – a fashion model who was initially accused of being all style and no substance. However, the progressive blues he and his band T Rex managed on their early ‘70s albums showed off a dedication to infectious grooves and the coolest of cool vocal attacks.

What exactly was a “jeepster?” Given Bolan’s fascination with automotive imagery (he calls the object of his affection a “Jaguar” in “Jeepster”), it is assumed that it has some primitive masculine association with the bare-bones Jeep filtered through an idea of a hipster. But who really cares? The song is just too cool to worry over such things. And if Bloan hadn’t died in a car crash later in the decade, we probably wouldn’t be haunted by the meaning. He was 29.

“Walk on the Wild Side” by Lou Reed (1972)

Lou Reed had been searching for a sound since blowing up the Velvet Underground a few years earlier. He found it on Transformer, produced by David Bowie and Mick Ronson. Reed was among the greatest lyricists pop music has ever produced.

He expanded the range of what was acceptable subject matter in a pop song, here painting a loving portrait of the outcasts and social misfits who formed a family in Andy Warhol’s Factory. He found a glorious match in the jazzy arrangement that featured the soulful backing vocal of the Thunderthighs, jazzy brushed drums, a yearning sax solo at the end, and one of the most iconic bassline intros in the history of pop music.

“Little Willy” by Sweet (1972)

Glam at its most elemental. There is nothing particularly experimental or revolutionary to the guitar/bass/drums attack. I hear cowbell, though no one is credited. It’s just all attitude and fun, like Little Willy himself. Written by Nicky Chinn and Mike Chapman, who cranked out insanely catchy tunes for artists throughout the decade (they wrote one of Sweet’s other hits, “The Ballroom Blitz”). Wikipedia cites fanzine Bomp! as pointing out that critics at the time hated this music, which only goes to prove that critics often have sticks up their asses.

“All the Young Dudes” by Mott the Hoople (1972)

Did I mention David Bowie? Bowie wrote this glam rock standard and Mott’s singer Ian Hunter gave it a great reading. Suddenly, a hard rock band of modest success became a glam rock sensation. Mick Ralphs’ guitar and Verden Allen’s organ give the early gay anthem a spiritual heft that bounces perfectly off of Hunter's lascivious delivery.

“Suffragette City” by David Bowie (1972)

He produced for Reed, and composed for Mott... so I suppose it’s time to give Bowie his own song. From the Ziggy Stardust phase of the pop chameleon’s career – perhaps his most iconic persona. Bowie reportedly offered this song to Mott the Hoople, but they chose “All the Young Dudes” instead. Couldn’t really go wrong either way. Bowie pulled off the near impossible on Ziggy Stardust – simultaneously satirizing rock artifice while creating an artificial rock masterpiece.

“Thick as a Brick” by Jethro Tull (1972)

Was there something special about 1972? Richard Nixon and Ted Heath were safely ensconced ensuring proper conservative values throughout the English-speaking universe. So why were all these musicians running wild and crazy? What would possess Jethro Tull to follow up the mega-successful hard rock Aqualung with one 43-minute composition that moved through varied acoustic and orchestral sections?

It divided critics and the public alike, but today stands as perhaps the best long-form rock music composition ever created. Jethro Tull may have begun a long slow descent after this, but they still managed some hit records and good music for a decent stretch. Which is more than I can say for either Nixon or Heath.

“Rock On” by David Essex (1973)

Bowie had popularized the entire “rock star as subject” with Ziggy Stardust. Lots of other artists would explore the theme. No one did a cooler examination than David Essex. His version of “Rock On” is among the coolest songs ever recorded. Essex and Bowie were both talented actors and they were able to exude attitude in their best songs. The bass line alone is worth the price of admission.

Essex had other hits in the UK but for the US market, this was it. Fortunately, it was enough. (Do not, under any circumstances, listen to soap actor Michael Damien’s cover which went to number one a couple decades later. There’s not really a lot to the song “Rock On,” and when you suck all the cool out of it … well, just don’t waste your time.)

“Don’t Eat the Yellow Snow” by Frank Zappa (1974)

“Dreamed I was an Eskimo – Frozen wind began to blow.” Zappa kicked off Apostrophe (‘) with his extravagant four-song mini montage which showed off his sensational musicianship and ultra-bizarre lyrical sensibility. Musically, it ranges from sublime jazz to hard blues-rock guitar jams to classical dissonance. Lyrically, it has a baby seal being beaten by a lead-filled snowshoe, our hero wheedling on Bingo cards “in lieu of the latrine.” That’s just a small sample of the bizarre kaleidoscope Zappa offers.

“Bohemian Rhapsody” by Queen (1975)

I used to always listen to the holiday countdowns that radio stations would do over long weekends. “The 500 Greatest Songs of All Time” kind of thing. Early on, I remember “Yesterday” being at the top of one of those lists, but almost from the time it was released in 1971, Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven” was number one. It was just about the only thing you could rely on back then. “Stairway to Heaven” was number one. The Citizen Kane of rock countdowns. Until one day, it wasn’t.

I don’t remember exactly when it happened, but I do remember my shock at hearing Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” crowned the best ever. (I’m guessing it was in the mid-‘90s and had something to do with Wayne’s World.) I suppose my shock was fitting since Freddie Mercury set out to shock and awe the world of pop-rock. I’d say he succeeded.

“Freeway Jam” by Jeff Beck (1975)

Beck left the Yardbirds to front his own band. For a while, he put out blues-based rock & roll that was heavy on guitar runs but still stuck to the basic imperatives of a rock song. His solo debut had classics like “Shapes of Things” and “Morning Dew” with Rod Stewart on vocals. It also had “Beck’s Bolero,” his instrumental ode to Ravel, which blended jazz, rock, and classical music into what we were just beginning to call fusion.

It was the electric guitar counterpart to what Miles Davis was doing with the trumpet. He went even further a couple of years later with “Freeway Jam,” composed by his keyboard player Max Middleton and given the full fusion treatment by Beck and his band.

“Marquee Moon” by Television (1977)

I had “Marquee Moon” (from Television’s debut album of the same name) on my list of punk songs from the 1970s. I will get around to that list in time. I had them there because, well, I am subject to suggestion and that is where most rock historians put them.

I kinda get where that comes from. Maybe the mid-70s CBGB thing. Maybe the early association with Richard Hell (who will most definitely be showing up on that punk list). But “Marquee Moon” - as with most of Television’s output - really sounds nothing like the punk rock that was ready to ignite at the end of the decade. It’s a more experimental pop-rock sound that focuses on the guitar interplay between frontman Tom Verlaine and rhythm player Richard Lloyd. (Lloyd will be making a cameo appearance with a different punk band as well.)

As for the song “Marquee Moon,” it’s just an insanely catchy ten minutes of jittery guitars, stabbing riffs, and wandering solos surrounding Verlaine’s impressionistic vocals. Among the best songs of the decade.

“Psycho Killer” by the Talking Heads (1977)

They were an art band and a dance band, and they had a musical genius at their core. “Psycho Killer” was the Talking Heads' first charting single (97 with a bullet!), from their debut album Talking Heads: 77. David Byrne’s shrieking “I, I, I’s” and warbling in French stood out. So did Tina Weymouth’s pulsating bass. Byrne and company would grow over the years, bringing the NY CBGB experience to the world.

“Paradise by the Dashboard Light” by Meat Loaf (1977)

Jim Steinman could write standard pop-rock songs, though even the shorter ones tended to have grandiose dreams. And Marvin Lee Aday could sing more restrained songs, though as Meat Loaf, he rarely did. But both artists were at their best when threw restraint out the window and went as big as they could.

“Paradise by the Dashboard Light” is a theatrical mini-rock opera with a fantastic old-school rock set-up, a wild and raucous second act (featuring an unwitting Phil Rizzuto), and a spectacular punch line at the finale. Aday and Steinman are aided quite a bit by Ellen Foley's equally impassioned vocals and Todd Rundgren’s sleek production, which keeps the whole thing from becoming a mess.

“Rock Lobster” by the B-52’s (1978)

Ricky Wilson and Keith Strickland learned to play guitar when they were teenagers. Kate Pierson could play piano. Fred Schnieder and Ricky’s sister Cindy could sing. When they decided to form a band, none of them were especially good at any of it.

But they dove in head first and created an infectious DIY brand of dance-pop that brushed off technical proficiency and blew away the disco dance music that was already getting stale. “Rock Lobster” became a sensation and seemingly overnight, these southern kids were taking New York by storm. Athens, GA became the center of the alternative music universe.

“One Way or Another” by Blondie (1978)

The B-52’s weren’t the only band pumping life into New York’s dance scene in the late ‘70s. A couple of local kids – singer Debbie Harry and guitarist Chris Stein – were also pumping out rock-influenced dance grooves that put Harry’s confident vocals front and center. They had already scored a number-one record by the time “One Way or Another” came out and there would be others in the next few years.

“One Way or Another” only made it to 24 on the Billboard Hot 100, but it was as good as anything anyone put out in the late ‘70s. It begins with Stein’s simple guitar riff before Harry’s sinewy predator makes her attentions clear. She paved the way for Joan Jett to score a number-one hit with “I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll” a few years later. The era of demure women dreaming of unrequited love had been pulverized.

“Can’t Stand Losing You” by the Police (1978)

The follow-up to the breakout hit “Roxanne” had the same reggae vibe but flew a bit under the radar for a while. The narrative, in which a jilted lover dreams of suicide as the perfect clapback, made people a bit squeamish. There are the seeds of whiny emo here but Sting’s tongue-in-cheek delivery turns it into a satire. You know it’s satire because the girl’s brother is “six-foot-ten.” If it was serious, he would have been “six foot three” at the most.

“Video Killed the Radio Star” by the Buggles (1979)

It may not have changed the musical landscape until a few years later when it became the first music video ever shown on MTV, but the Buggles released it as their first single at the end of 1979. Keyboardist Geoff Horn would soon be playing with Asia and singer Trevor Horn went into production. But they closed out the decade with their own bang. Horn’s lyrics are prescient. If you are tired of hearing the Buggles version, co-composer Bruce Woolley released his own slightly up-tempo version with the Camera Club around the same time.

That concludes the Baroque-Glam-Prog portion of our 1970s program. But there is a lot more 1970s music to check explore. Said exploration coming soon to a blog site near you.

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