'70s Songs That Literally Changed The Course Of Music

Usually, it's an album, a body of work, or a whole career that changes the trajectory of music. Some singers and bands are just that influential, that what they do is so different or innovative from what their predecessors and contemporaries did, that the entire world of music changes for the better. It's relatively rare that a single song comes around that's so startlingly different that it's a nexus point in the cultural timeline. There's "before" these songs and "after" these songs — they're just that important in terms of how they influenced other musicians, inspired entire genres, or led to the way that music is received or perceived by the public.

It's really no surprise that so many of those special songs were recorded and released in the 1970s. It's arguably the most consistently fruitful and imaginatively varied period ever, what with the rise of singer-songwriter pop, hard rock, arena rock, punk, and so much more. Here then are five songs from the '70s that had an indelible and undeniable impact on music.

Led Zeppelin took a turn with its untitled fourth album, released in 1971. The band's heavy, loud, blues-influenced sound eased up a bit to allow for folk, balladry, and experimentation, and all of those elements converged on "Stairway to Heaven." Guitarist Jimmy Page wanted to make a song with an epic scope, with lots of build and sweeping crescendos, and he worked on the song for months before singer Robert Plant added cryptic, poetic lyrics. The song was long, baffling, and a little pretentious, or rather a long way from the simplistic rock of the 1950s or the aggressive, psychedelic rock of the late 1960s.

While not initially available as a single — Led Zeppelin hated releasing singles — "Stairway to Heaven" was a one-song revolution. Critically hailed as one of the greatest songs of all time, "Stairway to Heaven" showed off the softer side of hard rock and arena rock just as both were gaining traction with the mainstream. It was one of the first and certainly the most foundational multi-part rock songs, the kind of thing that would define '70s rock. Among the songs that benefited from the wake of "Stairway to Heaven: Derek and the Dominos' "Layla," Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody," and Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Free Bird." The song can still be heard on classic rock radio, a format that evolved out of the album-oriented rock and free-form stations that propelled the success of "Stairway to Heaven" in the first place.

Just after the breakup of the Beatles in 1970, George Harrison topped Billboard's album chart with "All Things Must Pass." The first single off the ambitious triple LP: "My Sweet Lord," Harrison's deeply earnest and personal song about his desire to get closer to a higher power. It was also a total ripoff, as determined by a court. The staff at music publisher Bright Tunes noticed a similarity between the melody of "My Sweet Lord" and that of a song it controlled, "He's So Fine," a 1963 hit by the Chiffons. Bright Tunes sued Harrison for copyright infringement, and after refusing a settlement, took the ex-Beatle to trial in 1976. The judge ruled that Harrison had plagiarized "He's So Fine" — but subconsciously, or without intent. He was ordered to pay Bright Tunes $1.6 million.

Harrison didn't release much music for most of the '70s. "It's difficult to just start writing again after you've been through that," he told Rolling Stone in 1979. "Even now when I put the radio on, every tune I hear sounds like something else." A more lasting effect: Musicians could be successfully sued for stealing parts of pre-existing songs, and the plaintiff didn't have to prove intent. The concept has been evoked in subsequent musical copyright infringement cases, including Led Zeppelin's accused theft of "Stairway to Heaven" from Spirit's "Taurus," and Michael Bolton lifting the Isley Brothers' "Love is a Wonderful Thing" for his "Love is a Wonderful Thing."

Rap flourished in the 1970s as something that happened at house parties in the Bronx. In 1979, Sylvia Robinson, head of All Platinum Records, later renamed Sugar Hill Records, desperately needed a hit to save the business, and after going to a Harlem club one night in 1979 and seeing a rap performance — MCs talk-singing atop dance records — she struck on the idea to release a rap single. She recruited a trio of rappers (Wonder Mike, Master Gee, and Big Bank Hank) to fill out the Sugarhill Gang and had them record a song they came up with called "Rapper's Delight," a freewheeling, 15-minute collection of stories that showcased their lyrical and verbal dexterity. The musical backing: the riff from Chic's disco hit "Good Times," played over and over by teenage session musician Chip Shearin. (Usage wasn't cleared, and Chic's members threatened to sue, but the involved parties worked it out amicably and Chic received co-songwriting credit.)

"Rapper's Delight" wasn't the first rap song, but it was the first rap song to be a hit single: It reached #4 on the R&B chart and the Top 40 of the pop chart. That song represents the birth of rap, or hip-hop, as a mainstream cultural phenomenon that would only grow and eventually become the dominant form of American popular music.

In 1975, the radio and pop charts were ruled by soft rock. Into that environment of Eagles, Elton John, and the Captain and Tennille came a song that didn't bear even a faint resemblance to what people were listening to at the time, and perhaps that's why it proved so resonant and influential. The three-minute single version (cut down from the 22-minute album take) of "Autobahn" is almost entirely instrumental, except for a refrain in German, the language spoken by the members of Kraftwerk, an outfit that used mostly only early electronic instruments like synthesizers and drum machines. The song itself is eerie, futuristic, and engrossing, and it was intended to replicate in computerized musical form the mundane act of driving on the Autobahn, Germany's freeway system. Somehow, "Autobahn" reached No. 25 on the U.S. pop chart and No. 43 on the soft rock chart.

Kraftwerk may be a one-hit wonder who deserved more than 15 minutes of fame, but its impact is significant. On "Autobahn" and in its other works, it suggested the promise and possibilities of electronic music. Synths and digital tools could be used for all sorts of purposes with all sorts of sounds in mind, Kraftwerk proved, demonstrating that electronic music wasn't necessarily soulless or negatively robotic. Without Kraftwerk leading the way, there's a distinct chance there wouldn't have been progressive rock's keyboard-centric era, disco, industrial music, or synth-pop, an umbrella term that describes much of the mainstream pop music of the 1980s.