The Greatest Debut Albums of the 1960s

I’ve been obsessed with debut albums all year. Last month, I put together a ranking of the 100 greatest debut albums of the 21st century. Now, I’m setting my sights on the rest of modern music. For the rest of 2023, the Paste music team will be traversing a half-century of history. Each Saturday, we will be ranking the best debut albums from every decade between the 1960s and 1990s—culminating in a full 20th century list and then, dare I say it, a greatest debut albums of all time ranking that spans from the 1950s until now.

In my opinion, ranking the best debut albums from the 1960s is the easiest of the bunch. The music team has already picked what will be on our 1970s list, and there was such a greater pool of work to choose from that any way you go will ruffle some feathers. This time, though, the best of the best stood out from the get-go. There aren’t many biting takes to make (though I’m sure one or two of our choices will not be mainstream), but this is such a solid group of 20 records. Don’t miss what comes of the Nixon years next Saturday, though. It’s going to be a blast! Right now, however, may we present you with our picks for the 20 greatest debut albums of the 1960s—featuring Led Zeppelin, The Who, The Supremes, Loretta Lynn, King Crimson and many more. —Matt Mitchell, Paste Music Editor

On the Outside Looking In: The Kinks: Kinks; The Mamas & The Papas: If You Can Believe Your Eyes and Ears; The Doors: The Doors; Blue Cheer: Vincebus Eruptum; Mothers of Invention: Freak Out; Traffic: Mr. Fantasy; The MC5: Kick Out The Jams

20. The Rolling Stones: Rolling Stones (1964)

The Rolling Stones introduced themselves to the world with a pose—a cover of a 20-year-old R&B song popularized by Nat King Cole about that most American of roads, Route 66. But what young band isn’t trying on the music of others. At least here, they were turning on their fellow Englishmen to some of the best tunes across the pond that even many Americans had missed out on. Of course some of the poses they struck looked better on these gangly lads than others. The dirtier the guitars and the lyrics, the better the fit, as on Willie Dixon’s “I Just Want To Make Love To You” or Bo Diddley’s “Mona (I Need You Baby).” And the one original, “Tell Me,” offered a glimpse of where Mick Jagger and Keith Richards might take their sound without a very American road map. —Josh Jackson

19. Buffalo Springfield: Buffalo Springfield (1966)

Buffalo Springfield’s debut album is influential in two ways: It boasts some truly great folk rock tunes and, of course, it kickstarted the careers of Neil Young and Stephen Stills. Those are two names you can’t argue over. Not to mention, Buffalo Springfield sports songs like “Flying On the Ground Is Wrong” and “Burned,” some great, pop and psychedelia-inspired rock tunes. But, to the greatest extent, Buffalo Springfield is great because of “For What It’s Worth,” the anti-war classic written in response to the Sunset Strip curfew riots in Los Angeles earlier that year while the band were in-house players at the Whisky a Go Go. The song, perhaps more so than the album, continues to endure as an anthemic token of the counterculture era—Stevie Nicks even performed it on her most recent North American tour. “For What It’s Worth” would peak at #7 on the Hot 100, and Buffalo Springfield would become immortalized forever. And the fact that it’s the first record we ever hear Young on a studio album. For that alone, Buffalo Springfield’s debut must be recognized. —Matt Mitchell

18. Etta James: At Last! (1960)

Before the blues legend Etta James graced the mainstream with her first solo album At Last!, she explored the music world of doo-wop girl groups, relationships/friendships with prominent artists (B.B. King, Elvis Presley) and even a tour with Little Richard. All of these experiences, combined with a less-than-desirable upbringing, culminated in the 22-year-old’s debut being packed with the decades of lives she had already accumulated at a young age etched in every achy note. A mark of her growth from her teenage years, At Last! is a soulful triumph of womanhood. Although best known for the album’s title track, the 10-song LP has other lucid songs like “Anything To Say You’re Mine,” “I Just Want To Make Love To You” and “A Sunday Kind Of Love”—all of which are unabashed expressions of female desire, a mark of women wanting to embrace their sexuality in the ‘60s. Of course, “At Last” remains the standout from this undoubtedly influential album. The unmistakable strings that open the song mix with the divine growl and grandeur of James’ voice in a cry of rejoice that has gripped lovers for decades. It is the quintessential love theme, and it’s a big part of why James’ legacy has never wavered. —Olivia Abercrombie

17. The Beatles: Please Please Me (1963)

The Beatles would go on to make many records better than their debut, this much is true. But, like the debuts of the Rolling Stones and the Who in the years after, Please Please Me is an immediate foreshadowing of what brilliance was to come. Even during the record’s most rudimentary moments—in covers of songs like the Cookies’ “Chains” or the Shirelles’ “Baby It’s You”—you can see how these four lads from Liverpool had a better handle on pop melody and vocal harmony than any band who’d come before them. Of course, this album boasts two of the band’s best early-era originals, especially “Love Me Do” and “I Saw Her Standing There.” But, it’s the enduring greatness of “Twist and Shout” that keeps Please Please Me in our hearts. John Lennon’s performance there is immaculate and unbeatable, a stirring account of the rock stardom that the Beatles would take beyond the stratosphere. It might be weird to see the debut record of the most important rock band in history so low, but not every genius is born decorated in gold. —MM

16. Loretta Lynn: Loretta Lynn Sings (1963)

It’s easy to quantify just how essential Loretta Lynn’s debut record, Loretta Lynn Sings, is in the history of music—not just in the history of country or the Nashville Sound. Lynn had signed to Decca and spent two years making these 12 tunes at two different studios. She brought in a coterie of players—including fiddler Cecil Brower, guitarist Don Helms, pianist Floyd Cramer and drummer Willie Ackerman—to fill out the sound, and out came all-time cuts like “The Girl That I Am Now,” “I Walked Away from the Wreck,” “Success” and “The Other Woman.” Lynn’s first offering was an establishment of musical identity, a star-making effort that, if it didn’t exist, we wouldn’t have singers like Tammy Wynette, Emmylou Harris or Linda Ronstadt. Loretta Lynn Sings paved the way for women in country music, as she picked up Patsy Cline’s torch and became a legend. —MM

15. Pink Floyd: The Piper at the Gates of Dawn (1967)

It’s hard to fully quantify The Piper at the Gates of Dawn, given that it’s much more of a Syd Barrett record than anything else. As far as debuts go, it’s a pretty damn good one—and it’s the most psychedelic Pink Floyd ever truly got. Barrett wrote all but eight of 11 tracks, including “Astronomy Domine,” “Lucifer Sam” and “Bike.” The best track on the record, though—the nine-minute instrumental “Interstellar Overdrive”—was composed by Barrett, Waters, Wright and Mason together, and it’s a towering space rock epic. The track’s melody is so chromatic and indescribable that you’re better off just letting it play through rather than attempting to piece it out.

If you wanted to know what it would sound like if someone tried making Sgt. Pepper’s in a garage, The Piper at the Gates of Dawn is the most explicit answer I can come up with. This is likely a favorite for many Pink Floyd die-hards, as it’s a unique, unparalleled foray into a world the band would soon depart from. Of course, without David Gilmour on the axe, there’s a misshapen architecture within the band here. Barrett would explore his true vision in full force on his two 1970 albums The Madcap Laughs and Barrett—the former of which being one of the best experimental psych-rock debuts ever, and possibly better than The Piper at the Gates of Dawn altogether. It’s a shame that “See Emily Play” didn’t make the cut on this joint; it’s one of Pink Floyd’s best tracks across their catalog. —MM

14. Led Zeppelin: Led Zeppelin (1969)

Much like that first Mamas & Papas record, Led Zeppelin’s self-titled debut sounds like it was made by a band who’d already put out five records. It’s unbelievable that Atlantic found such a bonafide smash hit in Jimmy Page, Robert Plant, John Paul Jones and John Bonham. Glyn Johns mixed the album, while Page produced it—and it yields some of the greatest songs in all of rock ‘n’ roll history, like “Good Times Bad Times,” “Dazed and Confused” and “Communication Breakdown.” The immaculate, bold and terrifying Anne Bredon-penned “Babe I’m Gonna Leave You” has since become the most important track on the album, at least for me. It’s a deft showcase of the operatic, dense potential Led Zeppelin would fully embrace on later projects. Led Zeppelin is such a massive archive that it’s impossible to miss its importance in musical history. A definitive first brick in the world of heavy metal and perfect infusion of blues, this is how stars are made—and, somehow, Led Zeppelin even managed to obliterate that. —MM

13. The Ronettes: Presenting the Fabulous Ronettes (1964)

Ranking the debut of a group who ever made one studio album together might be a stretch to some, but if that group is The Ronettes then I’d say it’s a necessity. The trio—Ronnier Spector (then known as Veronica Bennett), Estelle Bennett and Nedra Talley—are rock pioneers, and I stand by that. How many acts can say The Rolling Stones opened for them? The three teens were known for their exaggerated eye makeup, massive beehive up-dos and (in 1960s standards) tight skirts—all of which were small acts of rebellion against the demure images of other girl groups of the time. Presenting the Fabulous Ronettes is a kaleidoscope of teenage angst, manipulative producers and all the “baby” songs anyone could ever need. The 12-track LP is a compilation of singles and covers with a few originals explicitly recorded for the album. We all know their smash hit “Be My Baby”—in all its snappy romantic glory. Still, this album has so much more to offer, like Ronnie’s velvety smooth vocals on “Walking In the Rain,” the sprawling layered production of “You Baby” and the swaying melody of “So Young” paired with the heavenly harmonies of Estelle and Nedra. Sitting at just over 36 minutes, the album’s brevity is the perfect mirror to The Ronettes’ time as a group—short but sweet yet immortal. —OA

12. The Who: My Generation (1965)

I know I’m not alone in this (there is a reason the album sits so high on this list) but it still feels vaguely controversial to say that, of all the groups that emerged from the British Invasion, The Who had the best debut of them all. The first missive from this maximum R&B group was a perfect statement of purpose. As with their live shows, the goal was to grab anyone within their blast radius by the lapels, and shake them awake to the vast possibilities that these four young men had to offer. The three instrumentalists were virtuosos that assault their musical weapons of choice with fury and delight. Barely hold on for dear life amid the tumult was a seemingly calm figure bopping away and grinding his teeth as the amphetamines took hold. For 36 minutes, The Who holds court on this album, spitting out anthems for their g-g-g-generation, despairing at their romantic fates and having their way with covers of classics by James Brown and Bo Diddley. The band certainly got more ambitious and even louder in the years to come, but the raw material of their future brilliance burned as hot as anything on this first complete endeavor. —Robert Ham

11. The Byrds: Mr. Tambourine Man (1965)

The Byrds’ musical career began with the jingle-jangle of “Mr. Tambourine Man,” the opening title track from their 1965 debut. In it was all the DNA for their blending of Greenwich Village folk and British Invasion rock into something that felt new—and that would go on to influence scores of bands to follow. And then on track two, they switch gears to the proto-power-pop of “I’ll Feel a Whole Lot Better When You’re Gone.” There’s more filler on this debut than on what would come later, but any debut with those two songs and the bright anthem “Chimes of Freedom” is a hell of an introduction. Roger McGuinn, Gene Clark, David Crosby, Chris Hillman and Michael Clarke changed the trajectory of pop music in America with this release, establishing a West Coast hub for great songwriting and even better harmonies. —JJ

10. The Band: Music From Big Pink (1968)

As the legend goes, The Band knocked out their debut album live in the studio in a matter of just two weeks. Apocryphal or not, Music From Big Pink certainly sounds as organic as that—the product of five musicians that have spent years on the road or in rehearsal spaces with one another, honing a sound that combined their varying interests in folk, R&B, jazz, country and soul. Why wouldn’t these 11 songs come out in one great big gush of inspiration as if guided by the Holy Spirit and a mess of weed and beer. Following their lead were folks like George Harrison and Eric Clapton, envious that this Canadian-American group were as authentic as it gets and trying desperately to ride their collective coattails toward a rootsier sound. But as Big Pink lays out, these boys had this sound in their bloodstream, in their bones, in their muscle memory. It all came natural and sounded as perfect and lived-in as could be. —RH

9. Nick Drake: Five Leaves Left (1969)

Upon its release, Nick Drake’s Five Leaves Left got mixed feedback from critics. Melody Maker called it poetic and interesting, but NME denounced it for lacking variety. 50 years later, Drake’s work has found the reverence it deserved back then. Pink Moon would become the definitive project in his short, tragic career, but Five Leaves Left was—and still is—beautiful and ambitious and distinct. Featuring pre-fame Richard Thompson on electric guitar, a song like “Time Has Told Me” is one of the most moving folk tunes ever. “‘Cello Song” is a cornerstone piece of Drake’s career, while “River Man” is one of the only songs he ever played in standard tuning. Few instances of chamber folk and baroque pop had ever converged so perfectly, and the record was made without any overdubs. Oh, to be a fly on the wall at Sound Techniques when this thing was being tracked. It’s such a special, momentous album. And I wish Drake had stuck around long enough to know how much we all love it. —MM

8. The Supremes: Meet the Supremes (1962)

The artists formerly known as The Primettes became The Supremes in 1961 and debuted their new sound and image with Meet the Supremes the following year. Consisting of Florence Ballard, Diana Ross and Mary Wilson, The Supremes were Motown’s first and most successful girl group. With the trio’s dynamic vocals—and the musical minds of Smokey Robinson and Berry Gordy Jr.—Meet the Supremes is a masterpiece of ‘60s R&B. The glamorous gals all have stand-out vocal performances on the album, with Ross leading on most of the tracks, but Wilson and Ballard have their moments in the sun with “Baby Don’t Go” and “Buttered Popcorn,” respectively. An album packed with love songs and a tune about a man’s obsession with popcorn shouldn’t have so many standouts, but when you come out swinging with the bluesy surf rock of “Your Heart Belongs To Me” and the snappy drums of “Let Me Go The Right Way” paired with the sultry smooth vocals of Diana Ross, you are bound to have some hits on your hands. While the women were only at the beginning of a long journey of success and undisputed reign on the Billboard Hot 100, their iconic potential seeped out in the magic of “Play A Sad Song,” where Ross leaned into the deeper tones of her voice, giving an exceptionally silky vocal performance. You could see the foreshadowing of superstardom in the minor improvements on every song they recorded for the album while still delivering timeless classics so early in their careers. It is the perfect time capsule of ‘60s doo-wop and girl group glory. —OA

7. King Crimson: In the Court of the Crimson King (1969)

Praised in some corners as “a brilliant mixture of melody and freakout” and dismissed in others as “ersatz shit,” the debut album by prog rock giants King Crimson doesn’t engender any kind of casual fandom or circumspect listening. From the opening blast of “21st Century Schizoid Man,” listeners are given a choice to follow this group down whatever winding path they choose and face potential threats both internal and external or stay in a safe, warm place, blissfully unaware of the danger. With guitarist Robert Fripp at the helm, twisting his instrument out of all proportion and lyricist Peter Sinfield dipping into the lore of Tolkien and Asimov, the journey of this album takes on an epic scale — the soundtrack to a quest for a key to unlock vast stores of wisdom or riches untold. Or simply a great record to get stoned and lose oneself in for the better part of an hour. Both are befitting the grandeur and surreality that the group tapped into early on and found scores of fans ready to heartily imbibe. —RH

6. The Flying Burrito Brothers: The Gilded Palace of Sin (1969)

What happens when Gram Parsons, Chris Hillman, “Sneaky” Pete Kleinow and Chris Ethridge get together and start a band? You get The Gilded Palace of Sin, of course. The debut from The Flying Burrito Brothers is one of the greatest country rock records ever made. It’s gone on to influence everyone from the Eagles to Uncle Tupelo to The Jayhawks to Emmylou Harris to Randy Travis over the years, and Bob Dylan even called it his favorite country rock record in a Rolling Stone interview 50 years ago. But it’s not just a country joint; there are great experiments with psychedelia, soul and gospel music on here, too. Parsons had done Sweetheart of the Rodeo with The Byrds a year prior, and this record feels like the spiritual (and better) successor to that project. Songs like “Sin City” and “Do Right Woman” and “Dark End of the Street” are perfect, but don’t sleep on the two-part “Hot Burrito” section on side two. The Gilded Palace of Sin is poetic and personal and inventive; the greatest example of Parsons’ genius, which left us far too soon. —MM

5. Leonard Cohen: Songs of Leonard Cohen (1967)

Leading up to release of Leonard Cohen’s debut album, he’d been getting noticed around New York for his poetry and prose. Many years prior, he was a guitarist in a country band called the Buckskin Boys, and the orbits of his writing and musicality were beginning to converge. He wrote a song called “Suzanne” and then Judy Collins recorded it. Folks in the industry, namely John Hammond, came to notice Cohen’s lyricism and he got a contract from Columbia within a year. Songs of Leonard Cohen sets itself apart from most other folk records of its era, namely for how pronounced and thoughtful it was from the jump. Cohen was 33 when he made it, and being that old in New York City was like being 75 in the Midwest. There’s ample wisdom and thoughtfulness across every speck of the record, on songs like “So Long, Marianne” and “Hey, That’s No Way to Say Goodbye” and “The Stranger Song.” Songs of Leonard Cohen was ahead of its time, with Nancy Priddy’s harmonies and David Lindley’s use of violin, jaw harp and flute; when I listen to it now, 56 years later, it still feels that way. —MM

4. The Jimi Hendrix Experience: Are You Experienced (1967)

Power trios rarely get as powerful as The Jimi Hendrix Experience. The rhythm section of Noel Redding and Mitch Mitchell were the perfect match for the guitar wizardry of Jimi Hendrix. They held down the low end with loose yet steady grooves that their fearless leader vamped over with the colorful splashes of an action painting. Their debut album was, at least in its American version, a perfect summation of the speedy evolution of this project. The doors of perception are forcibly opened by “Purple Haze” and the psychedelic luge ride that follows carries you along hopped up expressions of lust and longing (“Fire,” “Love or Confusion”), cushy balladry (“May This Be Love”), sweaty blues (“Hey Joe”) and the kind of pleasantly meandering playfulness that goes all too well with the peak of an LSD trip (“Third Stone From the Sun,” the title track). Everyone says that it was Sgt. Pepper that sent dozens of bands scrambling to make their own psychedelic masterpiece, but in our heart of hearts, I think we know that it was this masterpiece that truly turned people on in the best possible way. —RH

3. Alice Coltrane: A Monastic Trio (1968)

The contemporary reviews of Alice Coltrane’s first album as bandleader and the first batch of music she was to release following the death of her husband John Coltrane were brutal. DownBeat dismissed it, noting that “piano and harp [were] unsuitable instruments for transmitting [John’s] passionate utterance.” Such was the reality of the time when the jazz community had little patience for female creators and the critics had yet to catch up with the innovations being made by artists like Ms. Coltrane. Into this album, she poured all of herself—her spiritual yearnings, her unabiding love of her late husband, her command of her chosen instruments. They clashed together on these compositions like two weather patterns slowly moving over a lake before slamming together to make a terrifyingly beautiful lightning storm. Her fellow players, all of whom came from her husband’s band (drummer Rashied Ali and bassist Jimmy Garrison, tenor saxophonist Pharoah Sanders), join in this session like a wailing chorus as they try to make sense of losing a creative giant and plea for the salvation of their own eternal souls. —RH

2. The Stooges: The Stooges (1969)

Even as it arrived around the same time as equally heavy works like Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath, the first utterance of the Stooges did a better job than all of them in capturing the ugliness that was right around the corner in the decade that followed. The artwork is tinted in off-putting tones of brown and yellow. The four gents on the cover looked like a street gang scowling and sneering as they got ready to knife you because you accidentally wandered into their territory. And the music felt like it was stimulating all of the other senses, leaving a thin film in your mouth, spots in your eyes and an acrid smell that wouldn’t leave your nostrils for days. Born in Detroit, this group of ruffians got down in the muck of life and rolled around with wild-eyed glee. Or they simply leaned on each other to deal with the boredom of suburban life and the lustful aches emanating from their tight pants. The only thing that saved them and the people of Michigan from a series of petty thefts and minor arsons was that these young men chose to let out all these pent up hormones and anger on their instruments. Together, they pounded out a sound that borrowed some details from the Doors and the Velvet Underground but translated them with a kind of corrosive energy that wound up resonating within the already tainted hearts of young people on either side of the Atlantic, stirring the punk movement to life with one distorted guitar chord and one animalistic wail from charismatic frontman Iggy Pop. Nothing would ever be the same once this album hit the streets, a truth that deserves our thanks and praise. —RH

1. The Velvet Underground: The Velvet Underground & Nico (1967)

In some circles, calling The Velvet Underground & Nico the greatest debut of the 1960s is a safe pick—and maybe it is, but safe picks are usually called that for a reason. No one in the decade could touch what Lou Reed, John Cale, Maureen Tucker, Sterling Morrison and Nico were doing on this record, and their work was so influential and off the wall and avant garde that hardly anyone knew it existed. It wasn’t stone cold rock ‘n’ roll or flower-power folk or club-worthy soul music; it just was. There’s a reason why that Brian Eno quote about how all 30,000 people who bought that album started a band has maintained such a strong relevance 56 years later: The Velvet Underground & Nico influenced at least a dozen subgenres—including punk, garage rock, shoegaze, drone, indie and post-punk—and became, likely, the greatest thing Andy Warhol ever had a real hand in (my apologies to the Campbell’s soup can truthers).

The Velvet Underground & Nico boasts some of the greatest songs ever made, period. “Sunday Morning,” “Femme Fatale,” “All Tomorrow’s Parties,” “I’ll Be Your Mirror,” “I’m Waiting for the Man,” “Heroin”—the Velvets missed zero beats making this record. I love what Robert Christgau wrote in a 10-year retrospective in The Village Voice in 1977 about the album, that the record had been a tough listen “which is probably why people are still learning from it. It sounds intermittently crude, thin, and pretentious at first, but it never stops getting better.” When the opening celesta and bass notes on “Sunday Morning” roll in, the wonder immediately sets in. Then, a lush guitar solo from Reed along with his chamber-style singing. How did five people make this record in 1967, when it sounds like it could have been made in 2023 and still sound just as primitive? —MM