June 27, 2025      —–     Chart #304

Hello Music Friends,

Today we’re diving into the deep end of the heartbreak pool with a song that opens with a solitary piano note and ends with you checking your pulse to make sure you haven’t flatlined emotionally. This week’s chart: “One” by Three Dog Night—the band with a name so cozy you’d think they were selling weighted blankets.

“One is the loneliest number that you’ll ever do…”
Go ahead, try to sing that line without feeling like a divorced philosophy major who just got ghosted by a librarian. This song doesn’t ease in gently—it starts out sad, gets sadder, and then kicks you in the teeth for good measure. And somehow, we love it.

Now, let’s talk about who wrote this moody masterpiece. It wasn’t Three Dog Night. It was a guy named Harry Nilsson—the same man who would later write “Without You,” win Grammys, drink with John Lennon, and singlehandedly keep Southern California liquor stores in business during the ’70s. Legend has it that Harry was trying to call someone, heard a busy signal, and that was the inspiration for this song. Not a breakup, not a death—just the world’s most depressing dial tone.

Nilsson recorded it first in 1968, but it wasn’t until Three Dog Night picked it up in ’69 that it really caught fire. Their version hit number 5 on the Billboard Hot 100, and the band was off to the races.

Speaking of which—Three Dog Night was not a trio. Nope. That would’ve made too much sense. Instead, they were a seven-piece juggernaut with three lead singers (Danny Hutton, Chuck Negron, and Cory Wells) rotating vocals like some kind of musical three-headed hydra. The band’s name comes from an Australian Aboriginal phrase: a “three dog night” refers to a night so cold, you’d need to sleep with three dogs to stay warm. That is both adorable and slightly concerning.

These guys weren’t songwriters—they were interpreters. And man, did they have an ear for great material. They took songs by Randy Newman (“Mama Told Me Not to Come”), Hoyt Axton (“Joy to the World”), and Laura Nyro (“Eli’s Comin’”) and turned them into sing-along staples. They were basically America’s best jukebox for about six years.

Back to “One”—it’s deceptively simple. Piano, tambourine, a few guitar flourishes, and vocals dripping with drama. You can play it on acoustic guitar with three chords and a properly broken heart. And if you ever get dumped right before open mic night? This one’s your showpiece. Just try not to sob between verses—it’s hard to get a clean G chord through the tears.

So this week, raise a glass to lonely numbers, busy signals, and a band that could turn someone else’s song into gold every time. Play “One.” Feel your feelings. And maybe cuddle up with three dogs, just in case.

Keep Rockin’,

Stan Bradshaw