5 Generation-Defining Classic Rock Artists Hardly Anyone Talks About Anymore

With over half a century having elapsed since the birth of classic rock, a lot of its most brightly gleaming gems have, over time, become hidden. Throughout the three-ish decades of its lifespan, the catchall genre saw hundreds of new bands rise to prominence, inevitably pushing some others out of the zeitgeist and into relative obscurity. Among those forgotten bands are some of the genre's most pioneering and influential, relegated to the backs of the public's minds in favor of newer, hipper sensations.

The bands on this list blazed trails for classic rock and its subgenres, coming to define the niches they helped create and the generations that listened in. They all contributed to the evolution of classic rock and staked their claim to a specific sound but nonetheless have failed to keep up that claim over other bands that have, for whatever reason, better staying power. Here we'll look at why such integral classic rock bands fell into history's dustbin (or at least on the floor beside it) and why they deserve more love.

When it comes to American audiences who stuck to the mainstream, London rock group T. Rex probably seemed like a flash in the pan, owing to its sole Top 10 Billboard Hot 100 hit in the U.S., "Bang a Gong (Get It On)." But to native Brits and anyone in the late '60s to mid-'70s hunting for top-tier rock beyond just the radio, T. Rex was iconic. The group's middle albums — and in particular "Electric Warrior" — were credited as the very beginning of glam rock, and beyond that, they were just superb pieces of guitar pop. Yet despite the group's talent and legacy, T. Rex has spent the last 50 or so years playing second (or third) fiddle to glam rock's other architects.

Though T. Rex deserves to reenter the modern conversation, the fairly rapid disappearance from the spotlight is explainable and largely due to frontman Marc Bolan's untimely death and the band's aforementioned failure to break big in the United States. Bolan tragically died in '77 at the age of 29, far too soon for any '70s singer, let alone a genre spearhead. But even accounting for his early death, T. Rex's reverence among classic rock listeners in the decades since has never been quite what it deserved. For those who've written Bolan and company off as one-hit wonders only, it might surprise them to know that the band headlined the first-ever Glastonbury Festival, had 11 top 10 hits on the U.K. charts, and Bolan was even beloved enough in the U.K. to be given his own pop music show, "Marc."

For anyone who isn't a diehard classic rock fan or an Eric Clapton completionist, the names Delaney and Bonnie Bramlett will probably mean little to nothing. Their biggest mainstream presence was a short string of middling chart hits in the late '60s and early '70s and an even shorter stint touring with Clapton. But the pair, who as a band went by Delaney & Bonnie, helped define their era and subsequent eras of classic rock far more than the duo's meager number trail and lack of legacy coverage would suggest. In the case of blues-rock guitar, specifically, one could argue they defined the art more than almost anyone else.

Picture this: At the heights of their respective successes, Jimi Hendrix, then Clapton, and then George Harrison all halted their solo careers to tour with Delaney & Bonnie for a time. And in the middle of that already impressive spree of collaborations, John Lennon also asked both Bramletts to join his Plastic Ono Band. Though all of those partnerships came about from mutual respect and are impressive enough on their own, their real import comes from how the Bramletts rubbed off on those legends among legends. Delaney has been credited with introducing Harrison to slide guitar and teaching him his first riffs (so thank Delaney for "My Sweet Lord," among others), while Clapton cites Delaney as inspiring him to launch his solo career and Bonnie for giving him the confidence to start singing. There's much more, though you're unlikely to hear about it these days without a dedicated search.

In the late '60s and early '70s, Welsh group Badfinger was gaining a lot of notoriety, song by song, all of which were filled with infectious, Beatles-esque harmonies and arrangements. The band was the epitome of British Invasion pop (despite being Welsh) but also injected enough edge into their guitar-based sound to make them pioneers of the burgeoning power-pop scene. Unfortunately, its career came to an unceremonious end due to a combination of tragic factors, essentially all of which were beyond the group's control.

Badfinger's troubles stemmed from two main sources: the group's manager, Stan Polley, and its label, Apple Records. Polley, who eventually earned a reputation as a career shyster, handled all of Badfinger's money and seemingly handed most of it to himself. The result was a lengthy court battle between Polley and Apple Records, leading to the band cancelling upcoming tours and albums, as well as a 20-year freeze on all Badfinger album sales. Most tragically of all, the financial and legal stresses led two of the band members, Pete Ham and Tom Evans, to die by suicide in 1975 and 1983, respectively. The story of Badfinger is that of a band with all the talent and momentum in the world, one not just on the verge of making it big but actively achieving that goal. Unfortunately, the group's work and relevance were tragically cut short, to the loss of classic rock fans everywhere.

These days, Robin Trower mainly comes up in occasional conversations about guitarists' guitarists, the ax-wielders who make up for a relative lack of fame with an excess of talent and influence. But in addition to his status as a cult guitar hero, he was also a prolific contributor to the evolution of blues rock and hard rock throughout the '70s and '80s with the Robin Trower Band. And before that, he was one of the earliest proto-progressive rock artists as part of Procol Harum.

Like T. Rex, mainstream audiences will likely only know Procol Harum from "A Whiter Shade of Pale," by far the group's biggest hit and also, famously, one of the highest-selling singles of all time. Outside of that mammoth single, though, Procol Harum also helped birth progressive rock from within the womb of psychedelic rock. The band's singer, Gary Brooker, once commented on the band's self-titled debut album and its role in kickstarting prog when speaking to Prog: "The building blocks came from my influences of rock, blues, classical, everything ... 'Progressive' rock was a title that was made up a couple of years later. ... But it did involve a lot more movement and thought about the chords and the bass lines. And I think that's evident from [Procol Harum]."

After Procol Harum broke up, Trower's work with his own band grew increasingly experimental. This exploration led to, among other things, the trippy masterpiece that is "Bridge of Sighs." However, unlike Hendrix, whom Trower is often compared to, you don't hear about Trower or Procol Harum much anymore.

Whether earned or not, Three Dog Night has always been a bit cursed. Not in any way commercially, as evidenced by their genuinely astonishing run of hit singles, but socially. According to the group, it has been relegated to the dustbin of classic rock history, and the evidence seems to bear that out.

It's too bad, because from '69 to '74, Three Dog Night was the king of the Billboard charts and pop rock in general. The band had 21 Top 40 hits in that period, all of which spent nine or more weeks on the charts, making it hard to imagine how anyone could have possibly avoided hearing them constantly. And yet, probably owing to their frequent decision to record songs from other songwriters in favor of their own, they've been kept from any serious accolades for more than half a century.

It's notable that the group was inducted into the Vocal Group Hall of Fame in 2000 and yet still hasn't made it into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. The band attributes it to their label as a singles band, apparently a lesser rank than the album band. Band members' reactions vary, though. On one side, singer Chuck Negron vented to Forbes that "I want our band to be known, of course, but the RRHOF is a joke." On the other hand, singer Danny Hutton admitted to CNN his acceptance, saying, "We have opening acts who are in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. But you can't live life wondering. We're here, and we're kicking a**."

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