Dave's Side One

Some bands sold millions, but others had incredibly loyal, almost cult-like followings that didn’t always translate to massive Billboard numbers

The sound evolved to fill huge spaces. Big choruses, massive guitar riffs, dramatic keyboard swells, and powerful drums became the standard. Productions got grander with lasers, pyrotechnics, rotating drum risers, and elaborate stage sets. It wasn’t just about the music anymore — it was about creating an experience. Arena rock turned concerts into events

The 70s was the sweet spot — rock had grown up but still had its edge. It felt like the perfect balance between artistic exploration and popular appeal. You could hear innovation without losing the heart of rock ‘n’ roll.

What makes “Summer Breeze” so enduring is its timeless simplicity. In a decade full of loud guitars, ambitious prog suites, and arena rock anthems, Seals and Crofts gave us this gentle reminder that sometimes the best music is the kind that makes you feel good without demanding anything in return. It’s proof that soft rock could be sophisticated, emotional, and deeply comforting all at once.

My take: Give me the crowd noise, the extended solos, the happy accidents, and the “we’re really feeling it tonight” moments over clinical studio perfection any day. Some live albums don’t just document a show — they become the definitive version of the band

What makes these runs so special is how they set the tone for the entire record. They grab you immediately and build excitement, making you want to listen to the whole album without stopping. In the vinyl era, a great three-song run was like the perfect handshake — it told you exactly what kind of experience you were in for

These solos weren’t just flashy displays. They served the song. They added emotional depth, built tension, released it, and left a lasting impression that made the tracks unforgettable.

These artists proved you didn’t need a full band if you had vision, talent, and enough tracks on a tape machine. Their work was intimate yet ambitious, often sounding bigger and more personal than albums made by full groups.

The 1970s were the golden age of keyboards in rock music. From swirling Mellotrons to massive Hammond organs and pioneering synthesizers, the keyboard became a lead instrument capable of everything from symphonic grandeur to futuristic textures

These basslines weren’t just holding down the low end — they were driving the songs, creating hooks, and giving the music its backbone and personality. A truly great 70s bassline could make you move even when the rest of the song was subtle

The production is warm and inviting. The groove never rushes. Everything about the track feels effortless, like a perfect summer evening drive with the windows down. It’s soft rock at its absolute peak — melodic, romantic, and beautifully relaxed

My take: I love a well-placed ballad, but the 70s went overboard. Not every album needed a “we’re sensitive too” moment. Sometimes I just wanted the band to keep rocking instead of reaching for the lighter and the strings

The beauty of the vinyl era was that Side A and Side B felt like two chapters of the same story. Flipping that record was part of the experience. You had time to digest the first side before the second one hit you with something new or took the album in a different direction

Changing lead singers is one of the riskiest moves a band can make. It’s like replacing the main character in the middle of a long-running TV show. The voice, the personality, the chemistry — everything changes. Yet some bands not only survived the switch, they actually thrived

The truth is, these bands were misunderstood because they dared to be both popular and good. They bridged the gap between artistic ambition and mass appeal, and that made certain critics very uncomfortable

What’s remarkable is how much ground they covered in one decade. They evolved from a scrappy, blues-based bar band into one of the biggest rock acts in the world while keeping their core identity intact — even when things got messy behind the scenes. That balance of raw attitude and commercial songcraft is what made their 70s run so special

Artists who delivered incredible music right out of the gate but never quite sustained that momentum or got the long-term recognition they deserved

That opening guitar line is pure sunshine. Dewey Bunnell’s relaxed vocals and the breezy harmonies paint a perfect California daydream — palm trees swaying, ocean breeze in your hair, and the promise of endless adventure just over the next hill.

Some double albums absolutely feel like self-indulgent marathons. You get halfway through the second record and think, “Okay, we could have cut two sides and still had a masterpiece

Those first songs that didn’t waste a single second and immediately told you the album was going to be special

Some of the most important moments in rock happened because someone walked into a store and discovered something special

For me, these albums were designed with the turntable in mind. It’s all about the ritual. Bands would even tailor the sequencing on their albums to enhance that experience

For many of us who grew up in the 70s, vinyl isn’t just a format — it’s part of the ritual. The crackle when the needle drops, the warmth and hiss of analog tape, the way the music feels alive and three-dimensional

Today we’re celebrating criminally underrated debut albums of the 1970s — records that announced major talent right out of the gate but somehow never got the full respect they deserved

These songs proved the bands weren’t just about volume and spectacle. They could slow down and touch the heart. For many of us, these ballads were the ones we played when we needed comfort or wanted to say something important to someone special

These bands worked hard, wrote great songs, and gave fans what they wanted — big melodies, emotional choruses, and exciting live shows. The jealousy came from seeing “commercial” success labeled as a sin. In reality, these bands kept rock alive for the mainstream in a way that mattered

The sound of so-called “corporate rock” was actually spectacular. Foreigner perfected the big, anthemic rock song with killer hooks and strong guitar work. Boston created that massive, layered guitar sound that felt like a wall of melody. Toto brought incredible musicianship, smooth grooves, and sophisticated pop-rock

These records had ambition, strong songwriting, and emotional honesty. They weren’t shallow — they were accessible on purpose, and that made them powerful

Critics often rolled their eyes at Styx’s theatrical concept albums and REO’s big power ballads, calling them formulaic and overproduced. Fans, on the other hand, couldn’t get enough

To the critics, the Corporate Rock label meant music that was too polished, too accessible, and too successful. It meant bands that worked with top producers, spent serious money in the studio, and aimed for radio play and arena tours instead of staying in small clubs

“Corporate Rock.” Critics loved to slap that tag on any band that had polished production, big choruses, and actual radio success.

Let’s remember Karen not just for her struggles, but for the incredible gift she gave us — a voice that still comforts millions decades later. Her music remains a gentle reminder to be kind to ourselves and to others

Calling anyone “the greatest” turns music into a competition instead of an art form. Drumming is about feel, groove, power, creativity, and serving the song — and different players excel at different things

The 70s gave us so many players who redefined what a drummer could be — not just keeping time, but driving the song, adding texture, and becoming stars in their own right

Their short lifespan made their legend even stronger. They burned bright and fast, broke up at their peak, and left behind a body of work that influenced everyone from Led Zeppelin to Rush to the entire hard rock scene that followed

What made ZZ Top special was how simple yet perfect their formula was: blues riffs, clever lyrics about cars, women, and Texas life, and a relentless rhythm section

They had a raw, bluesy edge with rock muscle and a sense of humor. Walsh’s slide work and wah-wah solos were distinctive, and his songwriting had both swagger and vulnerability

What made Triumph special was their live reputation. They put on massive productions with lasers, pyrotechnics, and a rotating drum riser for Gil Moore. In a decade full of big arena acts, Triumph proved a three-piece could headline arenas and sound enormous

Today, let's sit with the saddest songs of the 1970s — the ones that didn’t need bombast or long solos to break your heart. They used simple arrangements, honest lyrics, and raw emotion to make you feel less alone in whatever you were going through

Journey is bigger than any one singer. It’s the songs, the guitar melodies, the keyboard hooks, and the live experience

The Best Prog Rock Albums of the 1970s. This is completely subjective, of course, but these are the ones that defined the genre for me and still reward deep listening decades later.

Today is Part 4 of our series on progressive rock in the 1970s, and we're talking about Kansas — America's proud contribution to the genre. While Yes and Genesis brought English eccentricity and theatrical flair, Kansas brought Midwestern heart, violin, and a distinctly American ambition to progressive rock

Today is Part 3 of our series on progressive rock in the 1970s, and we're talking about Emerson, Lake & Palmer — the most extravagant, showy, and unapologetically ambitious trio in the entire prog world

Yes took prog to symphonic heights. Jon Anderson’s ethereal high vocals, Steve Howe’s endlessly inventive guitar (acoustic and electric), Rick Wakeman’s virtuoso keyboard runs, Chris Squire’s thunderous bass, and the drumming of Bill Bruford (later Alan White) created music that felt like classical compositions played with rock power

Genesis formed in 1967 at a boarding school in England, and by the early 70s they had become masters of concept albums and live performance art

What was the greatest guitar solo of the 1970s? This is the kind of question that can start a three-hour conversation in any record store, and I've spent plenty of Sundays pondering it myself

Kansas was never a guitar-hero band in the flashy 70s sense. They were a collective—six musicians making ambitious, classically influenced progressive rock with American heart. But without Kerry Livgren and Rich Williams, that sound wouldn't have existed

Davey wasn't just a sideman—he was a co-arranger and co-writer. His parts were always melodic, tasteful, and perfectly supportive—never stealing the spotlight from Elton or the songs

Alex Lifeson of Rush—one of the most versatile, inventive, and criminally underrated guitarists of the 1970s and beyond

Buck is one of the most melodic, tasteful, and technically gifted players of the 70s who somehow never got the massive solo-star treatment he deserved