What's Going On
Party chatter, a sax that sighs, and Gaye asking the question Motown begged him not to ask.
Party chatter, a sax that sighs, and Gaye asking the question Motown begged him not to ask.

Berry Gordy called it the worst thing he had ever heard and refused to release it until Gaye said he would never record for Motown again.
Eight minutes that climb from recorders to Page's solo, never released as a single and never needing to be.

There is no title and no band name anywhere on the sleeve, just four symbols the members chose. The label thought it was commercial suicide.

Mitchell was so exposed making it that she asked visitors to leave the studio. Kris Kristofferson told her to keep something back for herself.

That opening arpeggio is a Lowrey organ's marimba repeat function; Dave Arbus's violin sends the ending careening.

What survived an abandoned science-fiction project became this record. The keyboard figure opening Baba O'Riley was generated by a machine rather than played.

Clapton wanted his friend's wife; Duane Allman's slide answers every line, then Jim Gordon's piano coda changes everything.

Kubrick pulled it from British cinemas himself after the reaction, and it stayed unavailable there for twenty-seven years: a state that enforces goodness, an invented slang, imagery nobody forgets.
Willie Mitchell and Al Jackson handed Green a track; he reportedly had the lyric in five minutes.

Grapefruit, Ono's book of poems, supplied the idea; Lennon supplied the piano; in 2017 she finally got the credit.

Sly overdubbed most of it alone onto a drum machine at home. The title track is listed as running zero seconds and has no music.

Rick Wakeman's piano, Bowie's own saxophone, and a stutter on the title that flopped before it defined him.

Rawls asks which rules you would pick for a society without knowing your place in it. His answer, equal liberties and inequality only when it lifts the worst off, reset political philosophy.

Rick Wakeman plays the piano throughout, and Bowie wrote Kooks in an afternoon for his newborn son. Ziggy Stardust was still a year away.

Eight and a half minutes, a Lowrey organ run through a VCS3, and Daltrey's scream tearing into the final verse.

Andy Warhol's sleeve had a real working zip, which scratched the records stacked behind it in the crates. The tongue logo starts here.

King had already written dozens of hits for other people before anyone heard her sing. This one sold twenty-five million copies.
Skip Pitts on wah-wah, Willie Hall riding sixteenths on hi-hat, and the first Academy Award won by a Black composer.
Withers was building airplane toilets when he cut this, and he left the unfinished bridge as twenty-six repeats.

A rhythm box edited into a heartbeat, Billy Preston on Pianet, and three weeks at number one.
Cut at Muscle Shoals in December 1969, with Jim Dickinson on tack piano after Ian Stewart refused the minor chords.

Cut at Trident in November 1971, never a single, and Ronson's riff draws the character as sharply as the words.

Recorded over two nights in March 1971, and Duane Allman was dead in a motorcycle crash before the year was out.

Jones wrote the riff, Page took the stop-start idea from Fleetwood Mac, and a stray labrador supplied the title.

Joplin taped the vocal days before her death; Kristofferson did not hear it until the day after.

It made the car chase in Bullitt look choreographed: this one was shot without permits, at ninety miles an hour, through real Brooklyn traffic that nobody had cleared.

Cut at Muscle Shoals days before Altamont, Bobby Keys on tenor, and a lyric Jagger later said he would censor.
Released as a B-side until DJs flipped it, with a mandolin credited only to a name Stewart said slipped his mind.

Bogdanovich insisted on monochrome in 1971, when absolutely nobody did that: a Texas town running out of reasons to exist, and the teenagers running out along with it.

By Otis Williams's account Kendricks stayed for hours of takes; his final Temptations single spent two weeks at number one.

Taupin wrote it about Maxine Feibelman, the seamstress who toured with the band, and Almost Famous made it a singalong.

Danoff and Nivert finished it with Denver one December night, and they premiered it hours later at the Cellar Door.
Townshend's theme for the villain of his abandoned Lifehouse, and Daltrey sings the self-pity straight before Moon wrecks it.

Toni Stern wrote the words in a day after her romance with James Taylor ended, and Curtis Amy's sax answers.

Altman made a western out of mud, snow and Leonard Cohen songs: a small-time gambler and a businesslike madam build a frontier town out of almost nothing.