'60s Bands Boomers Are Still Waiting For Younger Generations To Discover

Just like writers and filmmakers, time has a way of winnowing all but the biggest and brightest musicians. For every Beatles, Rolling Stones, Beach Boys, or Led Zeppelin, there are bands unknown to younger generations that were loved in their day and are now waiting to be discovered. We're here to help bring such '60s-era baby boomer bands back to the limelight so that music's youngest fans can give them a shot.

Why is it that some bands fall off the radar to begin with, though? There's no way to know beyond the obvious: big names get shared more, certain songs stick better across generations, changes in musical styles leave some bands sounding dated in a less-than-timeless way, and so on. This can be especially tough for baby boomers, born 1946 to 1964, whose lives were so culturally defined by music that it's impossible to imagine growing up without all those brilliant songs that earned them bragging rights over other generations, whether it be from Pink Floyd or Marvin Gaye. Will their kids or grandkids ever catch on to such brilliance? Will that one beloved band that had that one hit in the late '60s ever be heard again?

All of the bands we've chosen to highlight in this article had some hit that defined them, and plenty more music lying dormant in their discographies. There's some legitimately cool, musically interesting element to each, and a reason why younger generations would like them. This includes the Zombies, the Animals, Iron Butterfly, Donovan, and Three Dog Night.

Heads up: the British Invasion saw way more bands than the Beatles invade. Massive bands like the Rolling Stones and The Who consumed the mid-60s musical world along with the Yardbirds (the springboard for Eric Clapton, Jeff Beck, and Jimmy Page), the Kinks, the Animals, and loads more smaller groups. This includes the Zombies and their 1965 debut, "Begin Here. The song "She's Not There" appeared on this album and also 1965's "The Zombies," reaching No. 2 on the Billboard Hot 100. A mere two years later, in 1967, the band called it quits, leaving behind their brief time in the sun along with a small collection of quirky, psychedelic-leaning rock. They're remembered well by boomers and deserve some attention from younger generations.

It's a shame that the Zombies called it quits, because their third and final album, "Odessey And Oracle," actually started to reflect the band's true creative leanings.  Even as British invasion vanguards, the Beatles, evolved into something experimental and strange – "Sgt. Pepper's" iconic costumes included – the Zombies charted their own experimental path. They mutated into something part-OG Beatles, part Beach Boys-like in vocal harmonies, plus touches of psychedelia and folk and baroque elements.

The most memorable song from "Odessey And Oracle" is doubtlessly 1968's "Time Of The Season," which went to No. 3 on the Billboard Hot 100. Like the entire album, it shows what inventive, groovy heights the band could have achieved if they hadn't called it quits out of flagging success (despite charting high). The song's even got the line, "Who's your daddy?" (asked literally), something that younger folks might misinterpret in a chuckle-worthy way. And bonus: this album gets high praise from the likes of Dave Grohl.

The Animals' cover of "House of the Rising Sun" from their first, self-titled 1964 album (in the U.S.) is drippingly cool, brimming with attitude, and centers around this gonzo, carnival-sounding keyboard. And singer Eric Burdon? Wow, did he have a set of pipes! He eventually morphed into his true, ragged '70s self, starting with his next band, Eric Burdon & the Animals, who released their debut the next year in 1967. But from 1964 till then, the Animals released a bananas 10 albums, most with animal-themed names ("Animal Tracks," "Animalisms," "Amimalization," etc.). Yes, the band was always weird and independently-minded. They're definitely something that younger generations could enjoy.

As another British invasion band, the Animals burst out of the gate with "House of the Rising Sun," which reached No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100. They had several more songs breach the top 40 on the Billboard Hot 100 across three years, a tremendous level of success rendered tragic because the band broke up prematurely. As guitarist Hilton Valentine told Forbes in 2020, "We couldn't get on with each other. We were working too much, always on the road, always in each other's pockets." Some were using drugs, he said, and others were drinking alcohol, and each was pointing fingers and calling the other worse. Wild, weird, and a bit out of control: That's a good summary for a band called the Animals.

Nowadays, boomers remember the Animals so fondly (especially Burdon) that they have over 12 million monthly listeners on Spotify. That's quite a lot for a legacy band that's not well-known outside of its generation or held in the same general esteem as its bigger British brothers. Now it's time for younger music fans to give them a listen.

Time to get heavy, man. Iron Butterfly is one of those bands that's had a disproportionately large influence on music in comparison to how much they're remembered. Their whole discography, starting with 1968's "Heavy," could be loosely described as psychedelic, meandering rock that skews Doors-like. But, it's one song from one album that laid the foundation for all metal to come, down to Black Sabbath's 1970 debut: "In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida" from the band's 1968 album of the same name. 

"In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida" ("In the Garden Of Eden") is a 17-minute, one-hit wonder odyssey that evolved over three months of writing while opening for Jefferson Airplane. It contains every typical element found in metal: a dark, witchy foundation, de-tuned guitars, distortion, minor modes, the focus on a nasty riff, etc. The song was edited to about three minutes for radio, reached No. 30 on the Billboard Hot 100, and propelled album sales to 30 million copies sold, worldwide. That album stayed on the Billboard 200 for a bonkers 140 weeks. To this day, Iron Butterfly not only remains revered by those who grew up with them, but young fans of heavier music owe it to themselves to listen to this foundational piece of metal history. Also, let's not forget the song's langorous prog elements nor its improvisational, jam session elements and absolutely disgusting drum solo. 

Bit by bit, Iron Butterfly burned out through intense over-touring and subsequent line-up changes. The band split and reformed numerous times all the way through the 2020s, enduring band member deaths and freakish circumstances that made it look like they were cursed. At this point, Iron Butterfly deserves to be rediscovered by younger generations.

Chances are that younger folks will recognize some fragment of a Donovan song even if they have no idea what the song is or who wrote it. "Mellow Yellow," anyone? As that song title alone indicates, Donovan was odd. But he was odd in an irrepressible, almost child-like way. He was as unique of a songwriter as you could get, sounding like no one else and yet achieving solid, if very short-lived, success. He had 17 songs on the Billboard Hot 100, four of which made the Top 10, one of which hit No. 1 ("Sunshine Superman"), and 11 of which were released from 1966 to 1969. Then, he and his whimsical charm and folk-rock stylings vanished as his artistry took him away from commercial viability. 

Boomers tend to remember Donovan in the way you'd fondly remember a one-hit wonder or novelty act, recognizing certain songs, speaking fondly of certain lyrics in comment sections, etc. His legacy is 100% locked to the mid-to-late '60s, even though he released an album with 100% new songs, "Gaelia," in 2022 (a Celtic folk album with world music elements). The path to Donovan's crystal-and-didgeridoo-flush present might seem odd considering that he once toured with the Beatles and hobnobbed with the closest musical equivalents of his age, Bob Dylan and Joan Baez. But when Donovan says things like he "projected all this [Gaelic heritage] into the dream, so that I would be visited by the ghost of pagan song" (per Variety), his path becomes a bit clearer.

As far as younger generations are concerned, the short of it is this: Donovan is largely unlistened to and unknown, but sensitive and strange enough to appeal to people in need of sincere music. Give him a try.

If you know anything about Three Dog Night, you know "Joy to the World" from their 1970 LP "Naturally." In case you need a reminder, this is the "Jeremiah was a bullfrog" song, one of three songs from the band to reach No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100. Like Three Dog Night's work on a whole, "Joy to the World" is a catchy, light, bright, pop-rock performance well-suited to radio. If nothing else, younger generations might take to the band because they're so universal in appeal, easy to get into, and can even be put on in the background (sad as this is for music lovers to admit happens). 

Boomers are split on Three Dog Night, however. On one side, there's the "They turned pop songs into epics in three and a half minutes. The single would finish, and the next song would come on, and yet you felt like you'd listened to a prog masterpiece" camp, as one user on Reddit writes. On the other side, Huffpost says that they're "as irrelevant a rock band as ever topped the charts." We should note here that Three Dog Night didn't write their own songs, including their No. 1 hits. As Best Classic Bands generously puts it, they were "song interpreters" — they were a cover band, in other words. To many people, this may seriously deteriorate the band's cred. But, we're guessing that younger generations won't care as much about that so long as they like the music.

Regardless, it's safe to say that Three Dog Night has fallen into obscurity, no matter how big they were in their late '60s to early '70s heyday. They all but disbanded by 1976, and entered the classic rock radio circulation mill sometime after that. Now, they await a new generation of listeners.