‍I graduated from high school in 1968 and headed off to university for four years. I didn't know it at the time, but I was also graduating into one of the most extraordinary periods in the history of popular music.

‍These weren't "oldies." They weren't "classic rock." They were new records. The Beatles released “Hey Jude.” The Rolling Stones gave us “Jumpin' Jack Flash.” Hendrix recorded “All Along the Watchtower.” Cream was playing “Sunshine of Your Love.” And a relatively unknown group called The Band released an album called Music from Big Pink.

‍On that album was a song called “The Weight.” It reached only #63 on the Billboard Hot 100. More than half a century later, I find that almost impossible to believe.

‍What Was #1 in 1968?

‍If you want to understand the music of 1968, you might start with the Billboard charts. But you shouldn't stop there. The year certainly produced memorable chart-toppers. The Beatles spent nine weeks at #1 with “Hey Jude.” Otis Redding reached the top with “(Sittin' On) The Dock of the Bay,” Simon & Garfunkel did it with “Mrs. Robinson,” and Marvin Gaye began his seven-week run with “I Heard It Through the Grapevine.”

‍Those records deserve their place in history. But some of the songs we now regard as classics never reached #1. Steppenwolf's “Born to Be Wild” peaked at #2. The Rolling Stones' “Jumpin' Jack Flash” reached #3. Cream's “Sunshine of Your Love” stopped at #5. Jimi Hendrix's version of “All Along the Watchtower” reached only #20. And then there's The Band.

‍A #63 Hit That Refused to Disappear

‍In 1968, The Band released Music from Big Pink, one of those rare albums that didn't merely contain good songs but helped change the direction of popular music. Its most enduring song may be “The Weight.” Surely it must have been a massive hit? Not exactly. “The Weight” peaked at just #63 on the Billboard Hot 100. Think about that for a moment.

‍More than sixty records were selling better during its peak week, yet decades later “The Weight” remains instantly recognizable. It has been recorded by numerous artists, appeared in films, become a staple of classic-rock radio and is now inseparable from the story of The Band itself.

‍Meanwhile, several songs that actually reached #1 in 1968 have largely disappeared from everyday listening.

‍That's not a criticism of those records. It's simply evidence that popularity and longevity are two very different things.

‍These Songs Weren't Classics Yet

‍Looking back at 1968 today creates a strange distortion. We already know which records survived. We know The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Hendrix and The Band became enormously important. But when I left high school for university, none of us had the benefit of knowing how history would judge the music we were hearing.

‍We weren't listening to classic rock. We were listening to the radio. We were buying records. We were hearing new songs for the first time. And what an extraordinary collection of songs arrived that year:

• Hey Jude — The Beatles
• The Weight — The Band
• Born to Be Wild — Steppenwolf
• Jumpin' Jack Flash — The Rolling Stones
• Sunshine of Your Love — Cream
• White Room — Cream
• Piece of My Heart — Big Brother & the Holding Company
• All Along the Watchtower — The Jimi Hendrix Experience
• Mrs. Robinson — Simon & Garfunkel
• (Sittin' On) The Dock of the Bay — Otis Redding
• I Heard It Through the Grapevine — Marvin Gaye

‍That's an absurd amount of musical history packed into twelve months. And the albums were just as remarkable. The Beatles released the White Album. The Rolling Stones released Beggars Banquet. Hendrix released Electric Ladyland. Van Morrison released Astral Weeks. And The Band released Music from Big Pink.

‍Four Years When Everything Changed

‍My university years, 1968 to 1972, happened to coincide with an extraordinary transformation in popular music. The Beatles were approaching the end of their career together. Led Zeppelin arrived. Creedence Clearwater Revival produced hit after hit. Neil Young established himself as a major solo artist. The Rolling Stones entered one of their greatest periods. Singer-songwriters became increasingly important. And The Band continued making music that didn't sound quite like anyone else.

‍At the same time, the world outside the record store wasn't exactly sitting quietly. Vietnam dominated the news. Political protests filled university campuses. Martin Luther King Jr. and Robert Kennedy were assassinated in 1968. Apollo 11 landed on the Moon the following year. Woodstock became a symbol of a generation. The music and the times became intertwined. For those of us who lived through it, hearing one of these records today can do something a Billboard chart never could. A song can suddenly put you back in a particular room, with particular people, at a particular moment.

‍What the Charts Can't Measure

‍Billboard tells us what was commercially successful at a particular point in time. It can't tell us which songs will matter fifty years later. Charts measure popularity. But music eventually faces another test, one that can't be conducted until decades have passed: Does anyone still want to hear it? “The Weight” is a wonderful example. At a time when psychedelic rock was exploding with distorted guitars and increasingly elaborate studio production, Music from Big Pink sounded almost as though it had arrived from another time. The Band drew from country, blues, gospel, folk and early rock and roll.

‍“The Weight” captured that sound perfectly. It didn't scream for attention. It didn't need to.

‍The Real Hit Parade

‍Nearly six decades later, perhaps we can construct a better chart than Billboard could in 1968. Instead of asking: What reached #1? Ask: What survived?

‍That's a very different hit parade. For me, 1968 will always have another significance. It was the year I finished high school and began university. The music that accompanied that transition has now followed me for most of my life. Back then, “The Weight” was a new song that could only manage #63 on the Billboard chart. Today it's considered a classic. Maybe Billboard wasn't wrong. Maybe it was just 58 years too early.