You’ve probably heard the story of the artist who flies too close to the sun. Usually, it ends in a crash. In 1974, Todd Rundgren didn't just fly into the sun; he tried to bottle it, synthesize it, and sell it as a double-LP.
The result was an album simply titled Todd.
It followed the massive success of Something/Anything? and the polarizing, psychedelic whiplash of A Wizard, a True Star. If Wizard was the sound of a man discovering the studio as an instrument, Todd was the sound of that man realizing he could build entire universes inside a mixing console. Honestly, it’s a mess. But it’s a brilliant, essential mess that basically predicted every "bedroom pop" and home-studio revolution of the next fifty years.
Todd Rundgren Todd: What Most People Get Wrong
People often treat this record like a sequel to A Wizard, a True Star. They call it "Wizard Part 2."
That’s a mistake.
While Wizard was a frenetic, hallucinogenic journey where songs bled into each other at a breakneck pace, the todd rundgren todd album feels more like a series of distinct, heavy, and often bizarre experiments. It’s dense. It’s thick with synthesizers that sound like they’re trying to communicate with ghosts.
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Some fans at the time were baffled. They wanted more of the "Hello It's Me" piano-pop perfection. Instead, they got "No. 1 Lowest Common Denominator," a heavy, sludge-rock monster that sounds like a premonition of 90s alternative rock.
The Battle Over the Single
Rundgren was so committed to his experimental path that he famously fought his own label, Bearsville Records, to prevent "Izzat Love?" from being the lead single. Think about that for a second. Most artists would kill for a radio-friendly hit. Todd wanted to protect the "loopy carnival music" and the astral soundscapes he was building. He wasn't trying to be a star; he was trying to be an explorer.
The Gear and the Ghosts in the Machine
If you look at the credits for this record, it’s a "who’s who" of New York session greats, including the Brecker Brothers and future Utopia members like Kevin Ellman and Moogy Klingman. But the real star was the VCS3 synthesizer.
Rundgren was obsessed with the potential of electronic sounds.
- The Spark of Life: This track is a six-minute masterclass in synth atmospheric tension.
- In and Out the Chakras We Go: Originally titled "Shaft Goes to Outer Space," it’s as weird as it sounds.
- Lord Chancellor's Nightmare Song: A Gilbert and Sullivan cover because, well, why not?
He was basically living in Secret Sound Studios in New York. He wasn't just recording songs; he was using varispeed and flanging to warp the very fabric of the audio. On tracks like "Heavy Metal Kids," he pushes the distortion to a point that felt aggressive for 1974. It’s a "failed experiment" to some critics, but to others, it's the moment rock music finally realized it could be electronic without losing its soul.
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A Dream That Goes on Forever
Despite all the bleeps, bloops, and heavy guitar riffs, Rundgren couldn't help but write a few of the most beautiful melodies of his career for this project.
"A Dream Goes on Forever" is the heart of the album. It’s a delicate, piano-driven masterpiece that reached #69 on the Billboard Hot 100. It’s one of those songs that feels like it’s always existed. It provides the necessary emotional anchor for an album that otherwise threatens to float off into the ether.
Then you have "Sons of 1984."
This track was recorded live at Wollman Rink in Central Park and in San Francisco, featuring the audience singing along. It’s an anthem for the future. It’s Rundgren telling his fans that the world is changing and they are the ones who have to build it. It’s an incredibly moving way to end such a chaotic double album.
The Personnel Breakdown
While Todd played a lot of the instruments himself—drums, bass, and those endless synths—the contributions from others shouldn't be overlooked.
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- Mark "Moogy" Klingman: His keyboard work helped ground some of the wilder flights of fancy.
- John Siegler: Provided the rock-solid bass that kept the more "spacey" tracks from drifting away.
- The First United Church Of The Cosmic Smorgasbord: This was essentially the name given to the massive group of fans who provided the backing vocals for the final track.
Why You Should Listen to it in 2026
We live in an age where anyone with a laptop can be a "wizard." We have infinite tracks, perfect pitch correction, and every synth sound ever invented at our fingertips.
That’s exactly why the todd rundgren todd album matters now.
It reminds us that the best art comes from friction. It comes from a guy trying to do things the hardware wasn't supposed to do. It’s imperfect. Some of the "synth noodling" goes on a bit long. The transition from a beautiful ballad to a song about "Heavy Metal Kids" is jarring.
But it’s human.
Rundgren showed that you could be a producer, a guitar hero, a pop star, and a weirdo electronic pioneer all at the same time. He didn't pick a lane. He just built a bigger highway.
Actionable Insights for the Modern Listener
If you’re diving into Todd for the first time, don't try to "get it" all at once. It’s too big for that.
- Listen on Headphones: The panning and layers of synthesizers are lost on cheap speakers. You need to hear the way the sounds move across the stereo field.
- Skip the "Rules": If a 10-minute synth jam isn't your thing, skip to the ballads like "The Last Ride" or "I Think You Know." There are no prizes for suffering through the parts you don't like.
- Look for the Influence: Listen to Tame Impala or even early Prince after hearing this. You’ll start to see where those artists got their "self-contained studio genius" DNA.
- Buy the Vinyl (if you can): The original release came with a massive poster made up of the names of thousands of fans who sent in their names. It’s a physical manifestation of the community Todd built.
The legacy of this album isn't in its chart position—though it did reach #54 on the Billboard 200—but in the permission it gave to every musician who followed. It said: "Be weird. Be indulgent. Be yourself." That’s a lesson that never gets old.