My 20 Favorite Billboard Hot 100 No. 1s of the 1970s

I discuss my favorite chart-toppers from 1970 to 1979.

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The 1970s were undoubtedly one of the best decades for the Hot 100. So many timeless songs full of warmth, texture, and emotional depth, but also plenty of strange, shiny objects that

Think about this: In a 10-year span, the same weekly survey of music crowned Stevie Wonder, Marvin Gaye, Carl Douglas (of “Kung Fu Fighting” fame), Andy Kim (”Rock Me Gently”), and the Osmonds as chart-topping artists. Tony Orlando made it to No. 1 three separate times, for god’s sake. A little something for literally everyone, you know?

Anyway, canvassing the Hot 100 entries of the 1970s meant re-listening to plenty of protest anthems, disco floor-fillers, country-rock crossovers, Swedish pop architects, and at least one song about kissing someone all over that has no business being as good as it is (we’ll get to that shortly).

As with every other installment in this Billboard Hot 100 series, this isn’t your standard “best of the 70s” list. It’s a collection of 20 songs that have left the greatest impression on me in my life as a music nerd, and also happened to hit No. 1 between 1970 and 1979.

Plenty of great 70s songs never topped the chart, by the way. “Bohemian Rhapsody” peaked at No. 9, “More Than a Feeling” at No. 5, and “Born to Run” at No. 23. And plenty of other No. 1 hits from the decade have aged about as well as whatever this Gary Glitter performance was.

These 20 songs fall somewhere in between, in the best possible way. Same rules apply: One song per artist, with each track selected for lasting musical, cultural, or emotional impact, not chart performance alone.

If you’re new here, the 1960s installment is already up. Paid subscribers also get the companion playlists for my favorite 100 recordings from each decade, one song per artist as well.

Smash the button to skip to the playlist and, if you’re so inclined, upgrade your subscription to access.

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In chronological order, let’s go:

1. “Bridge Over Troubled Water” by Simon & Garfunkel (1970)

Let’s start this list off with a genuine 10/10 No. 1 song.

I first heard “Bridge Over Troubled Water” when I was 12 or 13, before I had any concept of who exactly Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel were, or what the duo meant to the evolution of pop music as the tumultuous late-60s gave way to a new decade. On first, second, and third listen, it bowled me over with how it builds to this incredible, overpowering emotional crescendo. It starts at almost a whisper and ends with one of the most cathartic final notes of all time. It’s flat-out one of the most beautiful songs I’ve ever heard.

This song is also a fascinating “almost” in Simon’s career. He wrote the song, co-produced it with Roy Halee, and sang it on the demo track. Garfunkel, who was by that point mostly estranged from his longtime musical partner, didn’t think he was a good fit for the vocal, but Simon insisted. It turned out to be the right call. Gartfunkel is the absolute perfect choice for such an expansive, penetrating gospel track. After Larry Knechtel’s piano sets the tone, there’s no one else you want to hear carry you through to his last sweeping proclamation.

Despite initially chaffing the label as too slow and cerebral a single choice, “Bridge Over Troubled Water” ended up being one of the biggest songs Paul Simon ever released. It held No. 1 for six weeks and swept five Grammys, including Record of the Year and Song of the Year. The eponymous album, another of my all-time favorites, spent 10 weeks atop the Billboard Album Chart. Simon supposedly resented that Garfunkel’s performance became the most celebrated moment of their career together. Thankfully, none of that tension is audible.

2. “War” by Edwin Starr (1970)

“War” is one of the most incendiary protest songs of all time—so incendiary, in fact, that Motown head honcho Berry Gordy was initially unwilling to release it as a single. The label had already recorded the song with the Temptations, who semi-buried it on the tracklist for Psychedelic Shack. Their version is controlled and smooth, the kind of political statement you can acknowledge and nod along with, only to file it away and forget about it in short order. Starr’s rendition runs in the complete opposite direction.

His voice sounds like it’s holding on for dear life. The growl-and-shout delivery, accentuated by those “good God y’all” interjections, breathes such vitality into the call-and-response structure. The horns practically function as percussion rather than melody, with those iconic stabs standing taller than any snare or kick drum could. All of it creates something that sounds less like a pop single and more like a man losing his mind in real time, being driven mad by America’s undeniably pointless show of force in Vietnam, a war that claimed millions of innocent lives.

The record held the No. 1 spot on the Hot 100 for three weeks and became the most commercially successful spit-in-your-eye moment in American chart history at the time. The bluntness is still shocking today. “War, what is it good for? Absolutely nothing.” No metaphor. No poetry. No “both sides” nonsense. That’s why it works. Now, the question is, where are these types of songs speaking out against injustice and violence today?

3. “Family Affair” by Sly and the Family Stone (1971)

Beneath the funk, beneath the laconic Sly Stone vocals, there’s a haunting, cynical resignation that powers “Family Affair,” the single that would sadly be their last trip to the top of the Hot 100. It’s got a fun groove at its center, but the song is also eerily still, putting you in this inert state in the middle of a party that’s losing steam. You can read that as a metaphor for the end of the progressive, activist-minded 1960s, or another for Sly’s descent into addiction that would kill his career shortly after this success, his biggest on the pop charts. All those are true.

“Family Affair” was seen as a comeback of sorts for the group, which hadn’t released a proper studio album for two years. Minus the double A-sided single “Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin)”/ “Everybody Is a Star,” the band had mostly fractured and left the public eye. When they did reconvene for this single’s parent album, There’s a Riot Goin’ On, the bad vibes were real. It divided both critics and fans, and signaled that maybe, just maybe, the fantastic run they’d enjoyed for much of the past half-decade was over.

This song, with its stripped-back production that included the first usage of a drum machine on a pop chart-topper in the US, is a deliberate reversal of everything Sly had done previously. His voice is half-whispered and deeply narcotized. The communal joy of his earlier records had curdled into a stew of paranoia, missed gigs, and broken relationships. Sly recorded much of the album alone, maybe because only he was interested in trying to recapture what he’d lost.

It’s arguably the first major hit that sounds like the aftermath of the 1960s, rather than a continuation of that decade’s optimism.

4. “Just My Imagination (Running Away with Me)” by The Temptations (1971)

I’ve sung the praises of the Temptations multiple times in this newsletter, but none of their ballads hit my vintage soul sweet spot quite like “Just My Imagination (Running Away with Me).” I actually found this song first through the Rolling Stones’ 1978 cover that graced the Some Girls tracklist, before I had any notion of who the Temptations were, not to mention the Motown group’s behind-the-scenes svengalis, Norman Whitfield and Barrett Strong. But, with hindsight and a much more nuanced musical palette, there’s no comparison. This ballad is one of the most gorgeous hits of the 1970s, regardless of genre.

What’s most interesting is that it went to No. 1 while the Temptations were in the thick of their psychedelic funk reinvention. Their songs had become more sonically complex and, from a songwriting perspective, much more socially conscious. There was little indication they would return to anything approaching their signature 1960s sound, and fans were “screaming bloody murder,” according to lead singer Eddie Kendricks. Finally, Whitfield relented and agreed to produce the airy, wistful love song that would mark the last Temptations single to top the Hot 100.

There’s a deeper thematic angle to “Imagination,” too, which is the dissolution of the group’s “classic five” lineup. Kendricks, whose floating falsetto gives the track its wings, left the Temptations before the single was released to begin a solo career. Paul Williams was forced to retire shortly thereafter due to health problems stemming from sustained substance abuse. The bittersweet aspect of every audible element reaches back into the history of soul music in more ways than one.

5. “Theme from Shaft” by Isaac Hayes (1971)

Everything about this song sounds incredible.

That wah-wah guitar. Those hi-hats. The orchestral swells and stabs. It’s central groove, which has become one of the most admired, imitated, and sampled in funk, R&B, and hip-hop history. If you’re a fan of his like I am, then you’ll know that “Theme From Shaft” is one in a long line of examples of what Isaac Hayes did better than any of his contemporaries: build an atmosphere before a single word is uttered. Honestly, you probably don’t really need words in this one at all, though I can’t deny the appeal of those “shut your mouth” moments when they’re sighed into the mic.

At that point in his career, Hayes was already a legend and didn’t necessarily need the film soundtrack on his resume to prove it. He’d co-written some of Sam and Dave’s biggest hits and basically saved Stax Records from going under all by himself. But when he moved to film scoring, he took his critical and commercial returns to another level, becoming, among many other things, the third Black person in history to win a competitive Oscar (Best Original Score) and the first to win for music.

In my original review of the soundtrack, I noted the following on its legacy:

“A lot of the records I’ve discussed in this newsletter can trace their DNA back to Shaft […] From neo-soul and alternative R&B to hip-hop subgenres like G-funk and trap, Hayes’s cultural contributions make those endpoints feel inevitable in hindsight. His work on this soundtrack was the spark that would set the charts ablaze with categorically Black influence. His was a sonic declaration that power, style, and storytelling didn’t have to compromise to make their mark. They could strut, burn, and groove, all on their own terms. More than anything else, that commitment to one’s art is why I consider Hayes to be a genius.”

“Theme From Shaft” stayed at No. 1 on the Hot 100 for two weeks.

6. “Lean on Me” by Bill Withers (1972)

Like Ray Charles before him, Bill Withers’ voice can reach deep inside your soul and ignite memories or emotions you didn’t think were possible. Withers often did this through sparse, universally singable melodies, including his first hit, “Ain’t No Sunshine,” “Use Me,” and “Grandma’s Hands.” There’s a lived-in groundedness in a Bill Withers song that you can’t fake and, as a result, can’t easily replicate either.

The best case study for the latter phenomenon is “Lean on Me,” which held down the No. 1 spot on the Hot 100 for three weeks in 1972. It’s arguably the simplest song on this list, made up of piano, bass, drums, voice, and handclaps. But simple in this case doesn’t mean dumbed down or uninteresting. Instead, it’s a relentlessly hopeful song, inviting those listening to come together and find the strength to push through seemingly insurmountable adversity. “We all have sorrow,” Withers sings in the first verse. “But if we are wise, we know that there’s always tomorrow.”

“Lean on Me” has permanently etched its music and words into the pop culture lexicon, with nearly 300 officially documented covers released as of this writing. Big names have tried their hand at this Withers hit, too, including Tom Jones, Al Jarreau, Michael Bolton, Seal, and Glen Campbell, among them. The Club Nouveau version went to No. 1 again in 1987, adding even more depth to its legacy. Amazingly, this song was Withers’ only chart-topper as a solo artist, though he got close a couple of times. “Use Me” and “Just the Two of Us,” his collab with Grover Washington Jr., both peaked at No. 2.

7. “Let’s Stay Together” by Al Green (1972)

Friends, it’s time. I’m so excited. We get to spend a few minutes discussing one of my favorite singers and songs of all time: Al Green’s “Let’s Stay Together.”

Beginning in the late-1960s, the Arkansas native enjoyed one of the most celebrated runs of any soul and R&B artist during the first half of the 1970s. With his expressive falsetto, his catalog includes all-timers like “Tired of Being Alone,” “Love and Happiness,” and “Take Me to the River,” the latter of which eventually became a hit for the Talking Heads. But Green’s crowning achievement is undoubtedly “Let’s Stay Together,” which only stayed at No. 1 for a week in 1972 but stayed on the chart for 16 weeks. It was reportedly the 11th biggest-selling song of that year.

The track’s music was conceived by Willie Mitchell, a Hi Records producer who worked with several notable Memphis artists, and Alan Jackson Jr., who was primarily known as a session drummer. Mitchell’s philosophy of using negative space effectively in the mix is a key component of “Let’s Stay Together.” Each element in the mix has room to breathe and carve out a sonic niche for itself over the three-minute runtime. No one aspect of the song tries to dominate the others, making it all sound so smooth and seamless.

After hearing a demo from Mitchell and Jackson, Green wrote the lyrics quickly and, for a brief moment, wasn’t all that interested in recording it. He believed the song was a little too conventional compared to what he’d released to that point in his career. It ended up being his most significant outing as a solo artist, leaning into the unfussy Memphis soul aesthetic as a counterpoint to Philadelphia’s lush orchestral productions and Motown’s pop machinery. It’s influenced everything from quiet storm radio to modern neo-soul.

8. “Midnight Train to Georgia” by Gladys Knight & the Pips (1973)

The backstory for “Midnight Train to Georgia” is a delightful little game of six degrees of separation, 1970s edition.

The song was penned and originally performed as “Midnight Plane to Houston” by Jimmy Weatherly, an ex-NFL prospect who turned to songwriting after those initial plans didn’t work out. Weatherly played in a rec football league with Lee Majors, who later inspired one half of the couple at the heart of the song’s narrative. The other half? Majors’ then-girlfriend Farrah Fawcett, when the lyricist phoned their home one night and asked what she was up to, told him that she was taking the red eye that gave the track its first title. Weatherly’s recording eventually found its way to Cissy Houston, for whom Weatherly agreed to change the mode of transportation to a train and the destination to Georgia.

After Houston released the song as a single in 1973, Weatherly’s publisher forwarded that version to Knight, who had just moved from Motown to Buddha Records and was looking for material for what became 1973’s excellent LP Imagination. She changed the tone and timbre of the instrumental, going for a warmer, Al Green-esque backdrop for the story’s bittersweet homecoming. The call-and-response interplay between her and Pips gives the single an exquisitely timed, almost Greek chorus kind of feel. Even though the protagonist has crashed and burned trying to make it in Los Angeles, the woman telling the story is more than happy to stick with him in his return. “I’d rather live in his world than live without him in mine,” she coos.

“Midnight Train to Georgia” held the No. 1 spot on the Hot 100 for two weeks and, in 1974, won the Grammy for Best Pop Vocal Performance, beating out a stacked list of competitors for that distinction, including Stevie Wonder’s “You Are the Sunshine of My Life.” It’s also been a consistent film and TV needle drop, heard in works like The Deer Hunter, Broadcast News, and 30 Rock.

9. “Superstition” by Stevie Wonder (1973)

Almost everything you hear on “Superstition” is played by Stevie Wonder. That includes the Hohner Clavinet riff that’s become one of the most recognizable in pop music history, the Moog bass, and the drum pattern, which apparently came from renowned guitarist Jeff Beck. Wonder had originally intended for Beck to record the song as a thank-you for his contributions to Talking Book, but when Motown head Berry Gordy smelled a monster hit, he demanded that Wonder lay down his own version and release it as a single. By the time its parent album was released, “Superstition” had already stormed the pop and R&B charts, becoming one of the 1970s’ most memorable crossover No. 1s.

It’s weird to think of this track as a fusion piece, but there’s more than a little rock mixed in with the funk sensibilities on display. We can chalk that up to Wonder’s willingness to experiment with different song structures, his time spent touring with the Rolling Stones in 1972, or his growing sense of how to craft propulsive hooks. Everything here moves so well, from the punchy horn arrangements to the tension that builds during the bridge, the only moments where the groove pauses to let you catch your breath for a split second. It’s pre-disco as a saturated radio and nightclub movement, and yet it’s one of the most universal dancefloor fillers of all time.

“Superstition” also comes smack in the middle of Stevie Wonder’s classic period, his unassailable stretch from 1972 to 1976 that saw him drop one extraordinary LP after another, including Music of My Mind, Innervisions, and Songs in the Key of Life. Though it only held the top spot for a single week, this track was his first in a string of US chart-toppers that, by decade’s end, would write his name in the history books.

10. “You’re So Vain” by Carly Simon (1973)

More than 50 years after it became a smash, (almost) no one knows who “You’re So Vain” is really about. We do know a few names that can be crossed off the list, such as Mick Jagger (who provided uncredited backing vocals during the recording), James Taylor, and novelist Nicholas Delbanco, whom Carly Simon had dated for a time in the 1960s. The singer/songwriter does like to tease the man’s identity cryptically in her music, though, telling WYNC that she supposedly hid the name in a 2009 re-recording of the classic track. The closest we’ve ever come to an answer was in 2015, when Simon admitted the second verse is about Warren Beatty.

But it doesn’t really matter who she’s describing in her lyrics because, at the end of the day, it’s really a putdown of a specific kind of man. The kind of narcissist who most people will recognize without needing to put a name or a face to. It’s the perfect balance of personal and universal, one that helped “You’re So Vain” stay at No. 1 on the Hot 100 for three weeks, a streak that propelled her album, No Secrets, to the top of the album chart. The chorus alone is a masterstroke. Think about it: “You’re so vain, you probably think this song is about you.” If the subject recognizes himself, he proves her point. If he doesn’t, well, she still wins.

What gets lost in the lore and rumor mill surrounding the song’s content is how sophisticated the production is. The opening bass jangle, which bleeds into a slinky piano figure, puts you off-balance from the first few seconds. The arrangement is a deft blend of pop, soft rock, and breezy bossa nova, with a Simon vocal that’s more knowing and amused than bitter. The sum of those parts is a breathtaking bit of confidence, showcasing a female artist who understands her leverage point and is taking her sweet time about it. Few pop lyrics have ever been this airtight, even if it endures partly as a pop culture riddle.

11. “Fame” by David Bowie (1975)

Despite his global popularity, David Bowie only cracked the Top 10 of the Hot 100 twice in the 1970s. Curiously, both of them came from his Thin White Dukes days—Young Americans and Station to Station, to be specific. Even more intriguingly, those two songs are among the least “rock” he’d ever presented himself as to that point. I know some in his online fan circles will quibble that his “plastic soul” phase was a purely commercial ploy, but, with that said, there’s no denying that “Fame” is one of the coolest, most confident songs he’s ever released.

The two standout supporting names on this track are Carlos Alomar, whose slinky guitar riff gives the arrangement its engine, and John Lennon, who is officially credited as both a backing vocalist and a songwriter. By 1975, the Beatles had been broken up for half a decade, and Lennon’s solo catalog had devolved into a weird, lovesick miasma. As I said in my original review of the song, “I have a suspicion that, lyrically, this track reflects both men’s dissatisfaction with the baggage that comes with fame, [from] two-faced management to relationships bending under the weight of ego and substance use […].”

The irony is thick: A white British art-rocker topping the American charts with a funk track recorded at a Philly soul studio. The sentence alone tells you how wild the mid-1970s were. The song is about fame as a corrosive force, yet Bowie was chasing that very thing while describing its damage. The performance sounds like both impulses colliding in real time.

12. “Jive Talkin’” by Bee Gees (1975)

I guess this entry is where my list of favorite Hot 100 No. 1s of the 1970s leans fully into the disco craze. Kind of. I say that, knowing full well that my intro from my piece touting the Bee Gees as GOAT songwriters warns against that kind of reductive framing. However, seeing as I didn’t cover “Jive Talkin’” in that initial article, it’s only fair to give the brothers Gibb a little more shine, especially considering this song singlehandedly turned their fortunes around and helped make them one of the best-selling music acts of all time.

The first half of the decade had been absolutely brutal for the group. Their 1960s cultural cache had dried up, they’d been dropped by their management group, and 1974’s Mr. Natural had been a commercial disaster. Their producer, the great Arif Mardin, pushed them towards a more R&B and funk sound, and it was Barry Gibb who found the bones of the rhythm driving across the Julia Tuttle Causeway in Miami. Throw in some Caribbean influence and one of the earliest uses of a synth bass on a pop record, and you have one of the most important songs of its era.

“Jive Talkin’” held No. 1 for two weeks in 1975, giving the group their first chart-topper since 1971, and paved the way for everything that would come with the Saturday Night Fever explosion. It was also one of the last times Barry sang in his chest voice rather than his iconic falsetto, solidifying the before-and-after sliding doors at work here. With their disco reinvention waiting in the wings, it’s undeniable that, without this record, there’s no “Stayin’ Alive,” no “You Should Be Dancing,” and a pop music landscape that looks totally different post-1975. One that would look much less vibrant, if you ask me.

13. “Lady Marmalade” by Labelle (1975)

If you need any more proof that the 1970s were absolutely bonkers, consider that three Black women in space-age costumes got a song about a New Orleans sex worker to No. 1 on the Hot 100.

Before that happened, the song was recorded by the Eleventh Hour, a disco group fronted by one of the song’s co-writers, Kenny Nolan. He and the other scribe, Bob Crewe, had penned the lyrics after a visit to New Orleans, with the risque inclusion of the French-language proposition used as the chorus’s iconic hook, fitting right in with the lurid lore of the city’s red light district. Nolan’s initial version didn’t chart, but it eventually made its way into the hands of producer Allen Toussaint, who, besides this hit single, is best known for his work with Dr. John and the Meters.

The latter funk outfit provides the rhythmic backbone and it sounds so, so, so smooth right out of the gate. Art Neville’s Hammond organ comes at you as if through a plume of cigarette smoke, while George Porter Jr. gives the arrangement plenty of stomp on the bass. On vocals, flanked by Sarah Dash and Nona Hendryx, Patti Labelle is in fine form, especially when she’s extracting every last syllable out of the word “marmalade.” Apparently, she had no idea about the song’s true subject matter, which is either a lie or so adorable I can’t stand it. I grew up learning French in school, so I guess I take bilingualism for granted, but still. Too funny.

Labelle’s version of “Lady Marmalade” went to No. 1 for one week in 1975 and was the group’s only chart-topper. Patti left the group a couple of years later and, as of this writing, is still keeping a robust tour schedule at age 82. As for the song itself, it’s been covered and sampled dozens of times, most famously by Christina Aguilera, Lil’ Kim, Mya, and Pink as part of the Moulin Rouge! soundtrack in 2001. Durability, confirmed.

14. “You’re No Good” by Linda Ronstadt (1975)

Linda Ronstadt had been building toward “You’re No Good” for most of the early 1970s. She’d been releasing country-rock records since 1969, none of which broke through commercially in any meaningful way despite proving her voice was extraordinary. She began playing this song live more than a year before it was recorded, using it to close her sets while she opened for Neil Young on tour. By pure coincidence, Ronstadt’s producer on Heart Like a Wheel, Peter Asher, was also a massive fan of the tune since the early-1960s. Despite being a last-minute addition to the tracklist, it became the singer/songwriter’s signature song, all by zigging where the original zagged.

Written by Clint Ballard Jr., who appeared on the list of my favorite Hot 100 No. 1s of the 1960s, “You’re No Good was first recorded by Betty Everett in 1963. It’s a perfectly pleasant R&B single with a strong melody, but it has nowhere near the bite that Ronstadt’s version does. Her vocal is much more authoritative, seething with anger rather than wallowing in heartbreak. That switch changes the entire dynamic of the story. Instead of a soft, perhaps overly forgiving assessment of the central relationship, Ronstadt is unapologetic in its stance. If I’m not good enough for you, then get out.

Andrew Gold’s electric piano and guitar work give the arrangement a steely crunch that earlier versions lacked, and Asher kept everything around them as hard-edged and unadorned as he could, all without obscuring his star’s gravitas. “You’re No Good” held No. 1 for one week in early 1975and helped Heart Like a Wheel eventually go double platinum. Ronstadt was on her way to becoming the biggest-selling female rock artist in America, and this record explains that appeal.

15. “Don’t Leave Me This Way” by Thelma Houston (1977)

For years, Thelma Houston was a Motown act that was kind of just around. She wasn’t bad by any means, but she’d been at the label since the late-60s and had little commercial success to show for her efforts. However, as it did for so many other “almost” acts, disco gave her a second chance when Hal Davis brought her a Philadelphia soul song that had already been released and largely forgotten. What Davis did with the same composition is one of the cleaner examples of how production context can rewrite what a song actually is.

The original (which is also a banger) was written for Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes by Kenny Gamble, Leon Huff, and Cary Gilbert. Teddy Pendergrass was on lead vocals. It’s a slow-burn funk jam, where Pendergrass’ restraint presents the listener with its own kind of drama. By contrast, Houston’s version runs the same song through a different machine. The tempo accelerates, the strings are front and center rather than buried in the mix, and the four-on-the-floor drum groove is locked all the way in. What had previously been a more plaintive Blue Notes outing was suddenly a dance floor event.

The record remains Thelma Houston’s only significant chart success. It held at No. 1 on the Hot 100 for one week in 1977 and later won her a Grammy for Best Female R&B Vocal Performance. Unfortunately, the label never quite figured out how to follow up on it, though she’s released a dozen studio albums since this commercial apex. Hers wouldn’t be the last career resurrected with the same disco-centric formula: same composition, different emotional temperature, instant exposure to a mainstream audience.

16. “Dancing Queen” by ABBA (1977)

What more is there to say about “Dancing Queen” other than it’s one of the most beloved pop songs of all time?

I said as much in my piece about ABBA’s prolific, largely unequaled career as European hitmakers who took over the US charts in their heyday.

Here’s an excerpt:

*Subjective sentimentality aside, it’s hard to come up with a long list of songs, past or present, with a melody as uplifting or a spirit as pure as this one. Throw in some first-rate production from the group’s chief architects, Benny Andersson and Björn Ulvaeus, and bright, layered harmonies from Agnetha Fältskogand and Anni-Frid Lyngstad, and you get an unparalleled, euphoric listening experience.

In his New York Times op-ed about the song, Jeff Tweedy called ‘Dancing Queen’ ‘exuberantly sad,’ which I suppose refers to its bittersweet lyrics, often interpreted as a melancholic pining for one’s youth. But I’ve never seen it that way. The song is about getting lost in music and living entirely in the moment, at least in part because it’s Friday night and the lights are low. Studies of the human condition don’t get much more universal than that.

‘It’s often difficult to know what will be a hit,’ Fältskogand said later. ‘The exception was ‘Dancing Queen.’ We all knew it was going to be massive.’”*

Along with the Hot 100, “Dancing Queen” went to No. 1 in 12 different countries in 1977. It’s sold over 7 million records worldwide and has been played nearly as many times on American radio.

17. “Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac (1977)

Two chords. A Rhodes piano. Pure pop-rock perfection.

Written quickly in an unused room at the Record Plant in Sausalito. “Dreams” is Stevie Nicks’ finest contribution to Rumours, the Fleetwood Mac blockbuster the band would spend the rest of their careers, together and separately, trying to replicate. The instrumental has a steady, almost tribal pulse that gives the song an utterly hypnotic quality. That surehandedness ends up becoming the comforting emotional register the entire song lives in.

Here’s some more of my thoughts on the song, courtesy of my Fleetwood Mac “best of” deep dive:

*Nicks wrote it in 10 minutes with a drum loop and a Rhodes piano pattern that came tumbling out of her […] When she presented the song to the band, they were less than enthused. Christine McVie, who [thought] it was simple to the point of being boring. But, at Nicks’s insistence, a basic demo track was recorded the next day, with Nicks playing the piano and singing. Those elements made it onto the final cut of “Dreams” with minimal editing, even after she recorded nearly a dozen takes of the lead vocal.

This track has also benefited from several social media resurgences, most notably Nathan Apodaca’s viral TikTok video from 2020. On top of inviting a slew of parodies, including from Mick Fleetwood himself, the moment catapulted the song back into the mainstream conversation, re-entering the Hot 100 at No. 21, more than 40 years after its initial release. Even if you had no concept of Fleetwood Mac or* Rumours prior to that viral moment, it’s an easy track to fall in love with for the first time.

Out of four singles, all of which cracked the Top 10 of the Hot 100, “Dreams” was the only No. 1 off Rumours, peaking in June 1977.

18. “Kiss You All Over” by Exile (1978)

Fans of Sweet and Suzi Quatro, just to name a couple, will recognize the names Mike Chapman and Nicky Chinn. For those who aren’t familiar, the duo built hits for those and a handful of other glam-adjacent acts before “Kiss You All Over” ever materialized. It’s odd to parse out the rationale for the two men handing these incredibly horny lyrics to a Kentucky bar band named Exile. Their previous big swing at a pop hit, “Try It On,” had peaked at No. 97 on the Hot 100. A couple of personnel changes later, the group spent an entire day recording their parts for this track, due to what has been described as Chapman’s “demanding” production style. I’d say it paid off.

Like any good bit of foreplay, “Kiss You All Over” succeeds because it takes its time with its sonic seduction. The bass line is patient and gentle in its thump, the synths shimmer with carnal intrigue, and J.P. Pennington’s lead vocal (his first-ever for the band) is as breathy as it is unambiguous. Even amid crossover hits that were becoming more and more sex-forward, this track stands out as one of the steamiest. It’s engineered with single-minded intent and, for those who find it appealing, it works without objection.

“Kiss You All Over” stayed at No. 1 for four weeks in 1978, outlasting the Bee Gees, Andy Gibb, and the entire Grease soundtrack in that top spot during what was one of the more competitive chart years of the decade (maybe of all time). Exile pivoted to country music in the 1980s and found its footing there, making its career trajectory one of the era’s strangest. “Kiss You All Over” outlasted their country catalog partly because Chapman and Chinn built it to last and partly because the song doesn’t ask you for more than it needs. It does what it says on the tin.

19. “Heart of Glass” by Blondie (1979)

Blondie was a CBGB band. They came up alongside the Ramones, Television, and Talking Heads, and, only a few years into their career, releasing a disco single was, in the eyes of the punk establishment, tantamount to an act of treason. But co-founders Debbie Harry and Chris Stein didn’t care. They’d always been more interested in pop as a concept than as an act of puritanical genre loyalty, and “Heart of Glass” was the commercial proof their instinct was on the money.

The original version of the song existed in a slower, more reggae-influenced form as early as 1975. Back then, it was called “Once I Had a Love.” Producer Mike Chapman, the same Chapman behind “Kiss You All Over,” heard something in the structure during the Parallel Lines sessions and pushed it into disco territory. The transformation required a Roland CR-78 drum machine, a warmer synth bed, and Harry’s ice-cold, detached vocal floating above all that machinery. The backlash from their punk-forward base was swift and teeth-gnashingly intense, but so too were the sales. “Heart of Glass” held the No. 1 spot on the Billboard Hot 100 for one week, helping push the parent album to Platinum-level sales in the US. The song also topped the charts in the UK and across Europe.

What’s more fascinating is the before and after inflection of “Heart of Glass.” All of a sudden, a band known primarily for its snarling riffs and galloping rhythm section had a diverse, more intricate sonic repertoire. They’d still put out rock material after this song, but I don’t think the doors open for subsequent hits like “Call Me,” “The Tide Is High,” and “Rapture” without this track clearing the path first. The arrangement also sounds so modern, nearly a half-century after it first hit store shelves and radio airwaves. Who knew detachment could be this transcendent?

20. “Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough” by Michael Jackson (1979)

Let’s close this list with the King of Pop’s Hot 100 origin story as a solo artist.

When Michael Jackson dropped Off the Wall, the disco-funk masterpiece that would go on to sell 20 million copies worldwide, he was just shy of his 21st birthday. He’d been famous since he was 11 as the face of his family’s band, the Jackson 5. But, as that vehicle’s momentum began to wane in the second half of the 1970s, he spent several years searching for what he should do next. He found that creative springboard when he connected with producer exrtaordinaire Quincy Jones on the set of The Wiz in 1978. The two instantly clicked and formed one of the most important musical partnerships in pop music history.

“Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough” was the lead single from Off the Wall, their first collaboration on a studio album. Jackson has a co-production credit in addition to one for songwriting, and it’s perfectly suited to his sensibilities as a performer. The spoken-word intro, breathy and nervous and giddy, flutters over a throbbing baseline. That combination immediately sets the tone and puts you on alert until, a few seconds later, the strings rush in and the groove absolutely detonates. The track technically qualifies as disco, but there’s so much more going on that simply labeling it as such would be reductive. The bass line, the horn arrangement, the vocal doing things in the upper register that shouldn’t be physically possible—all perfection.

So perfect, in fact, that it didn’t sound like anything else on the charts in 1979. It officially set the Michael-Jackson-as-pop-savior complex in motion. “Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough” held the top spot for one week, fueling Off the Wall’s rise to No. 3 on the Billboard 200. That LP was a runaway train after that, producing four Top 10 singles but failing to win the Grammy for Album of the Year. Jackson was reportedly furious, and that slight reportedly fueled the ambition behind Thriller.

Talk about a positive run-off effect.

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Which 1970s No. 1 would you have added? And which one on this list are you putting on right now?