Rock Legends of the ’70s Who Waited Years for Their First No. 1 Hit, Including John Fogerty and David Bowie

Chart success has never been a reliable measure of a musician’s true influence, and the 1970s make that point clearer than almost any other era. The decade overflowed with experimentation, niche scenes, and fast-moving trends, which meant that some artists raced to the top of the Billboard Hot 100 before anyone even knew their names, while others built entire careers without ever seeing a No. 1 beside their work. A single hit could immortalize an otherwise unknown act, yet some of the most innovative musicians of the time watched newcomers take the spotlight while their own songs settled below the peak.

It’s also a decade defined by contradictions. A long list of giants—AC/DC, Bruce Springsteen, Black Sabbath, Jimi Hendrix, Judas Priest, KISS, Led Zeppelin, Nirvana, The Who, and more—reshaped rock music without ever reaching the summit of the Hot 100. Even Metallica, who would go on to fill stadiums worldwide, topped out at No. 10 with “Enter Sandman.” Their cultural footprint far exceeded their chart positions, proving that influence and popularity don’t always align neatly with the numbers.

Yet there were rock legends who eventually broke through long after they had already established their legacy. Some waited years for the charts to finally catch up to their impact, from Creedence Clearwater Revival’s John Fogerty to Foreigner to David Bowie. Their delayed but well-earned No. 1 moments show that recognition sometimes arrives on its own timeline—and when it does, it reflects not just a single hit, but the weight of an entire career behind it.

John Fogerty Finally Reclaims His Songs, And Earns His First No. 1 Decades Later

John Fogerty’s presence in Creedence Clearwater Revival is so central that it’s almost impossible to separate the man from the band’s towering catalog. Those tight, swampy rock staples—“Proud Mary,” “Bad Moon Rising,” “Green River,” “Fortunate Son”—all came from a brief five-year stretch where Fogerty handled the bulk of the writing, recording, and vision that made CCR one of the most recognizable sounds of the late ’60s and early ’70s. Their run didn’t last long, but the music aged into a bedrock of American rock culture, instantly familiar to listeners who may not even know where the songs came from.

Even with that legacy, CCR never managed to capture the top spot on the Billboard Hot 100. The band came painfully close multiple times, peaking at No. 2 with five different singles but never crossing the final line. Fogerty’s own battle for artistic ownership stretched even longer. He spent decades fighting to regain the rights to the songs he wrote—an exhausting legal saga that finally swung in his favor in 2023. Only after reclaiming his catalog did he return to the studio to re-record those classics for a new release, a project that allowed him to present the music entirely on his own terms.

That long road culminated in an unlikely milestone. In 2025, those refreshed versions of CCR’s hits pushed Fogerty to No. 1 on the Official Americana chart, giving him the chart-topping moment that escaped him throughout his prime. Younger listeners discovered the songs through new platforms while longtime fans supported the physical release, creating a full-circle triumph for one of rock’s most distinct songwriters. It may have taken half a century, but Fogerty finally saw the charts reflect the scope of what he had created.

David Bowie’s “Space Oddity” Floated for Years Before Reaching No. 1

David Bowie’s rise was never straightforward, even though he eventually became one of rock’s most transformative figures. Long before the Ziggy Stardust years or his late-career masterpiece Blackstar, Bowie experimented relentlessly, shifting personas and musical styles as if he were trying on different futures. His early attempts at finding an audience landed unevenly, and one of his most iconic songs—“Space Oddity”—was initially another stalled release. When it arrived in 1969, it failed to chart in the way history might suggest it deserved.

The song didn’t get its breakthrough until 1975, when a re-release finally pushed it to No. 1 in the United Kingdom for the very first time. That same year brought Bowie his first U.S. chart-topper as well, though with an entirely different track. While British listeners gravitated toward the moody storytelling of “Space Oddity,” American audiences sent the funk-driven “Fame” to No. 1—an ironic twist, considering the song is a biting critique of celebrity culture. The split illustrated how Bowie’s artistry appealed to different audiences in different ways, all while reshaping the sound of modern rock.

Decades later, “Space Oddity” found yet another life. In 2013, astronaut Chris Hadfield recorded the first music video made aboard the International Space Station, performing the song hundreds of miles above Earth. That moment cemented the track as one of the most enduring pieces of Bowie’s catalog. And it’s remarkable to think that if RCA hadn’t included it as part of a 1975 package of older material, the song might never have climbed the charts at all, much less become one of rock’s most timeless pieces.

Foreigner’s Big Ballad Success Sparked Both a Breakthrough and a Breakdown

Foreigner entered the rock landscape in the mid-’70s and quickly carved out a space for themselves with arena-ready hooks and polished production. Formed by guitarist Mick Jones along with a lineup split between British and American musicians, the group built momentum with hits like “Cold as Ice” and “Waiting for a Girl Like You.” Their radio presence grew steadily, but despite the massive sales and constant airplay, the band still hadn’t landed a No. 1 hit by the early ’80s.

That changed in 1984 with “I Want to Know What Love Is,” the soaring power ballad that became the band’s signature moment. The song topped the charts around the world and brought Foreigner to the height of their commercial reach. But the success also opened a rift within the band. Singer Lou Gramm and guitarist Mick Jones clashed over songwriting credit, with Gramm insisting that he contributed far more than Jones claimed. The tension simmered for years, creating one of classic rock’s most persistent disputes over authorship.

The fallout reshaped Foreigner’s trajectory. Gramm left the group in 1990, returned briefly in the early ’90s, and departed again in the 2000s before being inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame alongside Jones in 2013. Yet the pull of the music remained. In late 2025, Gramm announced a farewell run with Foreigner scheduled for 2026—a chance to celebrate the band’s biggest moments, including the hit that changed everything, even if it also cracked the foundation beneath them.

Rick Springfield’s First No. 1 Came Years After His Early ’70s Debut

Rick Springfield’s arrival in the music world came earlier than many remember. His first album, released in 1972, leaned toward melodic pop and acoustic arrangements—a far cry from the guitar-driven rock that would later define his biggest hit. Tracks like “Mother Can You Carry Me” and “Speak to the Sky” showcased a young artist still shaping his identity. “Speak to the Sky” even managed to chart modestly, which kept his name in circulation during a period when it would have been easy for a new artist to vanish into the crowded ’70s landscape.

Springfield spent the rest of the decade balancing music with acting, landing guest roles before securing a long-running part on General Hospital. The dual career path kept him visible, but a No. 1 hit remained out of reach. That changed in 1981 when “Jessie’s Girl” exploded onto the charts and became his defining moment—a punchy, emotional rock song with one of the most recognizable choruses of the decade. It was his first and only No. 1, despite years of work leading up to it.

Even after reaching that peak, Springfield kept moving. He continued acting on General Hospital until 2013 while still releasing new music and touring well into the 2020s. Although nothing matched the chart-topping blast of “Jessie’s Girl,” his career had already proven that persistence and range could outlast any shift in musical trends. The slow climb to No. 1 only made the victory more meaningful.