Dave's Side One

Over the years, it's turned into this catch-all for popular music, where "rock" is just a loose label. And this year's list? It's exhibit A.

They weren't just a band; they were a family phenomenon that put Utah on the musical map.

Thin Lizzy deserved more love in the US—they were huge in Europe, but here they were often openers. That Salt Palace show proved why they were legends.

Terry Kath deserves more recognition—he was a complete musician who elevated rock in the 70s.

Equinox rocked so hard because it had everything: riffs, melodies, theatrics, and heart. It was the sound of a band on the cusp, and listening to it felt like being part of something exciting.

The arena was sold out and packed, the air thick with anticipation (and smoky odors that weren’t cigarettes), and we all thought Boston would own the night.

Nothing in the 1970s felt quite like a summer night cruise with the radio on.

Some disco was brilliant and innovative—it brought funk, soul, and dance together in a way that influenced everything from hip-hop to EDM. Most of the hate was about the hype machine killing variety.

Nancy proved women could own the guitar in rock, influencing everyone from Pat Benatar to later acts like The Bangles.

Gregg Rolie—the keyboardist and vocalist who helped define two massive bands: Santana and Journey.

Chicago wasn't just a band; they were a revolution—blending rock with horns, political lyrics, and serious musicianship in a way that changed what radio rock could be.

These albums weren't just recordings; they were time capsules that let you feel like you were there, even if you were stuck in your basement like I was.

They were a straight-up, hard-charging Midwest rock band from Champaign, Illinois, grinding it out on the road and delivering albums that were all energy, no filler.

There was something about those warm, honest voices that felt like a friend sitting in the room with you.

Roth era was wild youth; Hagar era was refined power

One of the greatest “overnight success” stories that actually took ten years: Blue Öyster Cult and their monster hit “(Don’t Fear) The Reaper.

Rush in the 1970s—the ultimate Canadian underdogs who became progressive rock gods.

Celebrating the one-hit wonders of 1976—songs that were everywhere for one brief moment, then disappeared from the charts forever

The thrill of the hunt is different now. It’s less about discovery and more about condition, pressing quality, and chasing rare variants.

Watergate, Nixon’s resignation, Ford tripping down the stairs, Carter’s peanut farm, and the whole “disco vs. rock” culture war. There was no lack of material back then.

Rock was exploding, but jazz sneaked in through the fusion of complex rhythms, melodic expansiveness, and even extended jams, making everything richer.

The greatest love songs of the 1970s—that decade of heartfelt ballads and soulful confessions. These tracks defined romance on the radio and in our lives.

These stores weren't just shops—they were communities, where you'd chat with the kids behind the counter about the latest release or even trade stories

There’s so much weird and wild stuff out there and I’m not above sitting on the floor digging through stack after stack looking for the crazy.

Today, we're time-traveling to the Billboard Hot 100 for the week ending February 14, 1976—Valentine's week, fittingly. Radio was king back then, and these top 10 tracks were everywhere