Talk to aficionados about rock's greatest years, and the likes of 1967, 1971 and 1977 are likely to come up pretty fast. They brought us, respectively, the explosion of psychedelia; classic rock's hight water mark; and a year of incredible bariety, with punk and disco crashing in and soft rock at its peak.
If you want a year full of timeless, brilliant singles, though, look no further than 1979. This, after all, was the year when disco reached its absolute peak of lush, expensive studio production on Michael Jackson’s 'Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough', while punk mutated into the sharp, radio-friendly hooks of New Wave on Blondie’s 'Heart of Glass'.
At the same time, rap made its historic first stamp on the Top 40 with the Sugarhill Gang's 'Rapper's Delight', and classic rock hardened its arena-ready edges on AC/DC’s 'Highway to Hell'.
The result was a glorious, genre-blurring radio landscape where wild subcultures threw one last massive party before the 1980s dawned. Here are 1979's 15 most enduring 7-inches.
1. Blondie – 'Heart of Glass'
Blondie were moving away from their punk roots into a more melodious New Wave / disco sound by 1979, and nowhere can that be heard better than on this sublime track. 'It's a nice twist that a bunch of New York punk idealists to create one of the most sublime pop songs ever recorded.
Oddly enough, 'Heart of Glass' started life as a sluggish reggae-style demo called 'The Disco Song'. But producer Mike Chapman urged the band to inject it with some life, via a pulsing, electronic heartbeat inspired by disco king Giorgio Moroder.
Debbie Harry’s icy, ethereal vocals glide effortlessly over a meticulous Roland drum machine rhythm, and the track became a staple of dancefloors everywhere. The CBGB punk purists won't have liked 'Heart of Glass', but everyone else did.
2. Michael Jackson – 'Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough'
First comes that breathy, spoken-word intro. Quickly, though, we're into a burst of pure, unadulterated musical joy. 'Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough' was the moment Michael Jackson morphed from Motown prodigy to solo superstar. Backed by Quincy Jones’ explosive horn arrangements and one of the most irresistible basslines in pop, Jackson introduced his signature falsetto hiccups to the world.
A masterclass in pop-funk synergy that didn't just top the charts – it set Jackson on the path towards the colossal fame he'd enjoy throughout the decade about to dawn.
3. The Clash – 'London Calling'
It's like a kind of apocalyptic siren wail broadcast straight from a grey, decaying Britain. Strikes, recession, race riots, rubbish piling up in the streets: the UK in 1979 was not a cheerful place to be, and you can hear that sense of judgement-day doom and dread most clearly on the title track from The Clash's masterful double album.
Driven by Paul Simonon’s menacing, reggae-inflected bassline and Joe Strummer’s throat-shredding vocal delivery, 'London Calling' sounds like nothing more nor less than an urgent, martial call to arms. Punk may have famously sneered 'no Elvis, Beatles, or Rolling Stones': 'London Calling' pushes out so much further than narrow boundaries, mixing widescreen musical ambitions with real political anger.
4. Chic – 'Good Times'
If you want to find the exact DNA of modern pop, R&B, and hip-hop, look no further than Bernard Edwards’ legendary, undulating bassline on this track. Nile Rodgers' razor-sharp, rhythmic guitar chugging contrasts beautifully with the track's elegant, string-drenched optimism, creating a utopian escape from late-70s economic recession.
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It is a masterclass in groove architecture. Within months, this single groove would be famously repurposed to birth the Sugarhill Gang's debut, forever changing the trajectory of dance and hip hop music.
5. Gary Numan / Tubeway Army – 'Are 'Friends' Electric?'
It can sound like a cliché but honestly, when this track touched down in the charts in May '79, it sounded like the future. Here was this pale, withdrawn young man, looking as though he'd been beamed in from another planet, impassive behind a Minimoog synthesizer as he delivered this eerie, dystopian, chorus-free story about a bleak world of robotic prostitutes and urban isolation.
Those huge synth riffs sounded alien on the radio, sending out a signal that newer, colder musical currents were on the way and that sci-fi weirdness and dsytopian, mechanical visions could dent the charts. A generation of moody, cerebral synth-poppers (hello, Depeche Mode) were watching with interest.
6. AC/DC – 'Highway to Hell'
That opening guitar riff – stark, menacing, unshakeable – is the sound of pure rock-and-roll rebellion. Angus Young’s stripped-down chord progression provides the perfect canvas for frontman Bon Scott to deliver his swaggering, charismatic swan song.
Singing with a grin you can practically hear through the speakers, Scott frames the gruelling realities of life on the touring road as a glorious, unrepentant descent into damnation. It remains the ultimate hard-rock anthem, capturing the genre's raw, unfiltered essence before the slicker 1980s arrived and called time on the 1970s' particular brand of excess.
7. The Sugarhill Gang – 'Rapper's Delight'
'Said a hip-hop, the hippie to the hippie / The hip, hip-a-hop and you don't stop rockin'. With those immortal words, a localized New York street subculture officially breached the global mainstream.
Built entirely over a re-recorded loop of Chic’s 'Good Times', this sprawling, celebratory track introduced the concept of the MC to millions of unsuspecting listeners worldwide. While purists critiqued its studio-assembled origins, the sheer, infectious charisma of the verses proved impossible to resist, kicking down the door for the next four decades of hip-hop dominance.
8. Donna Summer – 'Hot Stuff'
In the tribal world of late 1970s music, disco and hard rock were not supposed to go within a mile of each other (this was the year of the sinister 'Disco Sucks' movement, after all, with hundreds of disco records ceremonially burned by disco-averse rock fans at Chicago's Comiskey Park).
Try telling that to Donna Summer's genre-fusing springtime smash hit 'Hot Stuff'. Driven by a fierce, pounding dance floor rhythm and a snarling, rock-steady guitar solo courtesy of Steely Dan session ace Jeff 'Skunk' Baxter, Summer delivers a gritty, fiercely passionate vocal performance. By actively blurring the tribal lines of late-70s radio formats, it paved the way for future genre-mashing triumphs like Michael Jackson's 'Beat It'.
9. The Police – 'Message in a Bottle'
Andy Summers’ ringing, arpeggiated guitar chord forms the spine of this brilliant, multi-layered classic. if you're looking for the DNA of The Police's unique, briefly world-conquering sound, 'Message in a Bottle' is where you'll find it: the tight, syncopated reggae-rock rhythm is anchored by Stewart Copeland’s frantic drumming and Sting’s high, yearning vocals.
Lyrically, it uses the metaphor of a castaway to capture a profound sense of universal human isolation, wrapping deep existential loneliness inside a propulsive, radio-friendly New Wave package that jumped straight to the top of the charts.
10. Gloria Gaynor – 'I Will Survive'
The ultimate anthem of resilience. What starts as a melancholy, piano-led lament soon morphs into a soaring, triumphant dancefloor declaration of independence.
Gaynor’s powerful, deeply soulful vocal delivery avoids any hint of victimhood, turning a heartbreak track into an eternal, cross-generational battle cry. It is disco at its absolute peak: emotionally devastating, fiercely empowering.
11. The B-52's – 'Rock Lobster'
Who knew that a bizarre blend of 1960s surf rock, campy B-movie aesthetics, and avant-garde vocal shrieks could yield a timeless dance classic? Hailing from Athens, Georgia, the B-52's exploded onto the scene with a delightfully absurd track featuring tinny organ lines, a thrift-store aesthetic, and Kate Pierson and Cindy Wilson imitating marine animal noises. A much-needed dose of pure, surrealist fun injected into the sometimes dour post-punk underground.
12. Joy Division – 'Transmission'
'Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance to the radio,' Ian Curtis commands, his haunting, deep baritone voice trembling with an unsettling mixture of manic energy and profound despair. An early post-punk highlight, 'Transmission' is as a bleak counterpoint to the glossy pop of the era, transforming a dance track into an intense, existential crisis.
13. The Knack – 'My Sharona'
Built around an aggressive, stuttering drum beat and a relentlessly catchy, primal guitar riff, this power-pop juggernaut was just everywhere during the summer of 1979. And why not? It was a sharp, lean antidote to the sprawling, over-produced rock epics of the era.
Doug Fieger’s hyper-caffeinated, lustful vocal delivery captures a raw, teenage urgency, while the song’s surprisingly complex, extended guitar solo elevates it from a mere novelty earworm into a permanent masterclass of alternative pop construction.
14. Ian Dury and the Blockheads – 'Hit Me with Your Rhythm Stick'
Topping the UK charts in early 1979, this track remains one of the most wonderfully bizarre number ones in music history. It paired Dury’s gravelly, cockney music-hall slam poetry with the Blockheads’ incredibly tight, virtuosic jazz-funk groove.
Featuring a legendary, blistering bassline and a frantic double-saxophone solo, the track was art-school punk at its most rhythmically brilliant, proving that the post-punk era had plenty of room for eccentric, danceable genius.
15. Pink Floyd – 'Another Brick in the Wall, Part 2'
We end with perhaps the strangest hit from a fascinatingly eclectic year. By the late Seventies, Pink Floyd were a byword for serious, deeply conceptual album rock. And their latest opus The Wall, a dark, neurotic, inward-looking double concept album about a rock star's mental breakdown.
And out of this, somehow, they forged a global number-one hit by adopting a disco beat. Eager to create a striking single, Pink Floyd producer Bob Ezrin persuaded Roger Waters to pair his stark, anti-authoritarian lyrics with the driving four-on-the-floor rhythm ruling the 1979 dancefloors.
Anchored by the haunting, defiant choir of Islington Green school children and David Gilmour’s legendary, razor-sharp guitar solo, it became a massive, cross-generational anthem of rebellion.
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