Rock history is littered with tales of missed chances, bad timing, and brilliance squandered.
For every band that climbed the charts and filled stadiums, countless others burned bright but briefly — victims of ego, addiction, poor management, record label bungles, or simply being too far ahead of their time. Some made one or two extraordinary albums before imploding. Others kept going but never got the acclaim they deserved until long after their heyday.
We're turning the spotlight on seven such bands from the 1960s and ’70s — a golden age of rock where talent was abundant, but success was anything but guaranteed. These are the groups that should have been massive, whose music still stands up today, and who helped shape the sound of their era, even if history hasn't always given them their due. Some would go on to achieve cult legend status. Others remain tragically obscure.
They had the songs, the style, the spark — but something went wrong. Here are seven rock bands who should have been bigger — and the reasons why they weren’t.
1. Love
Led by the enigmatic Arthur Lee, Love were one of the most original and influential bands to emerge from the 1960s Los Angeles scene — yet they never achieved the commercial success they deserved. Their 1967 masterpiece Forever Changes blends folk, baroque pop, and psychedelia with haunting, poetic lyrics and intricate arrangements. It's now widely regarded as one of the greatest albums of the era.
At their peak, Love had the talent, the mystique, and a sound unlike anyone else — darker and more complex than their contemporaries. But internal conflicts, Lee’s erratic leadership, drug issues, and a reluctance to tour outside of California held them back. While other bands rode the wave of the Summer of Love to global fame, Love imploded just as they should have soared. Today, they’re rightly revered by critics and musicians alike — but in their time, Love were a band that missed their moment.
Start here: Alone Again Or: This hauntingly beautiful fusion of folk, rock, and mariachi is Love’s finest, timeless, melancholic masterpiece.
2. Moby Grape
Moby Grape were a San Francisco band with an extraordinary blend of talent — all five members sang, wrote songs, and played brilliantly. Their 1967 debut album is a near-perfect mix of rock, blues, country, and psychedelia, packed with tight harmonies and concise, energetic songwriting. Unlike many of their jam-oriented peers, Moby Grape delivered focused, radio-friendly tracks with serious depth. They had the sound and charisma to rival the Byrds or Buffalo Springfield.
Unfortunately, a disastrous marketing campaign (including the release of five singles on the same day), poor management, and legal issues crippled their momentum. Internal strife and mental health struggles added to their decline. Had they been better handled, Moby Grape could have become one of the biggest names in American rock — instead, they remain one of its most bittersweet “what ifs.”
Start here: Omaha: a fiery, two-minute burst of garage-rock brilliance from their 1967 debut album.
3. The Zombies
The Zombies were one of the most sophisticated and musically inventive bands of the 1960s, blending jazz-inflected chords, haunting melodies, and breathy vocals into a uniquely British baroque-pop sound. However, despite early hits like 'She’s Not There' and 'Tell Her No', they struggled with poor management, record label indifference, and unfortunate timing.
By the time their masterpiece Odessey and Oracle was released in 1968—an album now revered as one of the era’s finest—the band had already split. With better promotion and support, The Zombies could have rivalled contemporaries like The Kinks or The Beatles in influence and acclaim. Their uncanny melodic instincts and progressive songwriting hinted at a band capable of evolving far beyond the '60s, but their promise remained largely unfulfilled until decades later, when their work finally gained the recognition it deserved.
Start here: Time of the Season. Hypnotic groove, soulful vocals, psychedelic cool—The Zombies’ timeless late bloom into chart-topping brilliance.
4. Big Star
Emerging in the early ’70s, Big Star were too early for alternative rock, too late for classic rock. Despite three phenomenal albums, they were plagued by record label failures, distribution disasters, and commercial indifference — though they later became heroes to many.
Big Star’s story is one of dazzling brilliance met with heartbreaking misfortune. Formed in early 1970s Memphis by Alex Chilton and Chris Bell, they crafted shimmering, emotionally raw power pop that felt both instantly familiar and completely new.
Their debut, #1 Record, overflowed with melodic invention—jangling guitars, aching harmonies, and songwriting that balanced innocence with melancholy. Yet poor distribution and industry mishaps meant the album barely sold. Follow-ups Radio City and the haunted Third fared no better commercially, despite critical acclaim and cult admiration that would swell over decades.
Their music—poised between British Invasion sparkle and Southern vulnerability—influenced generations of alt-rock icons from R.E.M. to The Replacements. But internal struggles, label woes, and personal tragedy kept Big Star from ever achieving mainstream success. They remain one of rock’s greatest “what ifs”—a band whose talent seemed boundless, and whose legacy still burns quietly but brightly.
Start here: September Gurls. Shimmering, bittersweet, and hook-laden, it captures everything the band did best—jangly guitars, yearning melodies, and aching nostalgia wrapped in perfect pop form.
5. The Pretty Things
The Pretty Things were one of the most daring and underrated British rock bands of the 1960s and early ’70s, constantly evolving but never quite breaking through commercially. Their early R&B swagger rivalled the Stones, and with S.F. Sorrow (1968), they arguably created the first true rock opera—years ahead of Tommy.
Yet a lack of consistent label support, bad timing, and internal strife kept them from the recognition they deserved. Bold, unpredictable, and creatively restless, they influenced everyone from David Bowie to Pink Floyd. Had things aligned differently, they might have stood shoulder to shoulder with the giants of their era.
Start here: S.F. Sorrow Is Born. The opening track of that pioneering concept album / rock opera features raw energy, psychedelic textures, and a vivid narrative.
6. The United States of America
Eclectic, ambitious, and ultimately short-lived, The United States of America were one of the most visionary and experimental bands of the psychedelic era. Formed by UCLA musicologist Joseph Byrd, their self-titled 1968 album fused electronic sounds, musique concrète, avant-garde classical influences, and radical political themes with accessible rock song structures.
Dorothy Moskowitz’s ethereal vocals provided a haunting human core to the band’s futuristic, tape-manipulated textures. With no guitars and an early use of synthesizers and ring modulators, they were years ahead of their time. Despite critical acclaim and a devoted cult following, internal tensions and lack of commercial traction led to their breakup after just one album. In a different climate—with more support and stability—The United States of America could have spearheaded a new wave of experimental rock, bridging the gap between psychedelia and the avant-garde with a clarity and cohesion few ever matched.
Start here: The Garden of Earthly Delights. Bold and otherworldly, this track blends experimental electronics, psychedelic rock, and Baroque-pop influences. With Dorothy Moskowitz’s striking vocals and Joseph Byrd’s avant-garde arrangements, it captures the band’s fearless creativity and political edge.
7. Badfinger
Badfinger had all the ingredients for global stardom: great songwriting, tight musicianship, Beatles connections, and a run of superb early ’70s singles like 'No Matter What' and 'Day After Day'. Signed to Apple Records and produced by George Harrison and Todd Rundgren, they seemed destined for greatness. But managerial mismanagement proved catastrophic.
Their manager, Stan Polley, mishandled their finances and isolated the band from their own income, leading to personal and professional turmoil. Lawsuits stalled releases, and while hits dried up, the band spiraled into despair. Tragically, two key members — Pete Ham and Tom Evans — died by suicide, haunted by betrayal and financial ruin. The music industry’s dark side crushed what should have been one of the decade’s most successful bands.
Despite later acclaim and cult status, Badfinger’s story remains one of rock’s most heartbreaking tales of squandered potential and industry exploitation.
Start here: Baby Blue blends irresistible melody, crisp guitar work, and Pete Ham’s aching vocals into a power pop masterpiece. Its inclusion in the Breaking Bad finale introduced the song — and the tragedy behind the band — to a new generation.
Pics: Getty Images
