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Welcome to the Chartcrush Top Ten Countdown Show, I’m your host, Christopher Verdesi. Every week we unpack a year in Pop music and culture and count down the top ten hits, based on our exclusive ranking of the weekly charts published at the time in Billboard, the music industry’s definitive trade magazine.

This week, we’re turning the clock back to one of the most turbulent and transformative years in American history: 1968, kicking off with a shock in Vietnam: the Tet Offensive, which shattered the illusion that America was winning the war. Viet Cong forces launched surprise attacks across South Vietnam, even breaching the U.S. embassy in Saigon.

Half a million American troops were on the ground in ’68, and more than 100,000 of them had been drafted—mostly working-class and minority men not eligible for student deferments. Antiwar protests had already drawn tens of thousands, mostly young people, but after Tet, even Americans who’d supported the war began to question it. Walter Cronkite, for one—the most trusted man in news—who broke precedent and opined on air that Vietnam was likely to end in a stalemate.

“If I’ve lost Cronkite, I’ve lost middle America,” President Johnson reportedly said, and not long after, dropped out of the presidential race. From there things got darker. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated in April, and cities still on edge after the “Long Hot Summer” of race riots in 1967 erupted again, notably D.C., Baltimore, and Chicago. Two months later, candidate Bobby Kennedy, gunned down after a victory speech in L.A., and in August the Democratic National Convention turned Chicago into a warzone—protestors clashing with Mayor Daley’s riot police downtown.

And all of it—the war, the protests, the riots, even the assassinations—right there in your living room, “brought to you in living color,” as one network liked to say, right between Laugh-In, Bonanza, and The Beverly Hillbillies. Youth favorite Star Trek, also renewed for a third season in ’68 after a letter-writing campaign—the first time young people swayed a major TV network like that.

And in music, longtime D.C. Bureau Chief Mildred Hall on the front page of Billboard‘s 1968 year in music issue, urging Congress to pay more attention because in the late ’60s, songs weren’t just about dancing and romancing anymore; they were battle cries of a generation demanding a voice in how things were run.

Dad in tie and crew cut; son in fringe jacket, love beads and long hair—the iconic image of the ’60s generation gap, and on the charts in 1966, zero records in common between the year-end top tens on the Hot100 and Billboard‘s chart for adult hits, Easy Listening, later rechristened “Adult Contemporary.” Only one in common in ’67, but in ’68 we’ll be counting down here in a minute, four.

No, Hippies weren’t suddenly grooving to Mantovani, Sinatra and Patti Page, and grownups didn’t reject their pre-Rock ‘n Roll icons, but the seismic cultural churn as Boomers flooded the zone left the old Pop world in the dust, fading in the rearview as caftans and peace sign pendants started showing up at PTA meetings; mustaches, sideburns and Nehru jackets at the office. And dinner parties ditched martinis and cigars for Chablis, fondue, and incense. A little grooviness went a long way in the ‘burbs.

#10 Archie Bell & The Drells – Tighten Up, Part 1

Another thing that sounded fresh and exciting coming out of the radio in ’68: Funk. Sly and the Family Stone’s first hit “Dance to the Music,” debuted on the charts in February, and James Brown’s biggest hit since 1965—”I Got the Feelin’,” appeared in March, and both were together in the top ten for a week in April, but another hit by an unknown group from Houston that was also in the top ten that week passed them both to become the first ever #1 Funk record, for two weeks in May. At #10 as we kick off our 1968 edition of the Chartcrush Top Ten Countdown Show, Archie Bell & The Drells’ “Tighten Up.”

No protest or dreamy flower-power imagery. No sitars. No acid. No Folk harmonies or lush strings; just a beat, a groove, and Archie Bell emceeing. “Tighten Up,” #10 on our Chartcrush countdown of 1968’s top ten hits, sprinting ahead of James Brown and Sly Stone to become the first #1 Funk record. A B-side on the tiny Houston label it first came out on, but Atlantic Records issued it nationally as an A-side. The “Tighten Up” dance that inspired the record, something Bell’s Bandmate came up with for Archie to dance away his blues after getting his draft notice, and by the time the record topped the charts, he was already in uniform.

#9 Simon & Garfunkel – Mrs. Robinson

Next up at #9, the record that replaced “Tighten Up” at #1 for three weeks in June.

Now, Folk didn’t just survive the British Invasion—it adapted, evolved, and thrived. A force on the Pop charts since 1950, when The Weavers came out of nowhere with four top-five hits in under a year, including the chart-topping “Goodnight Irene.” That run ended with blacklisting at the height of McCarthyism, but Folk surged back in ’58 when a previously unknown Beatnik Coffee Shop Act from San Francisco, the Kingston Trio, took an album cut, “Tom Dooley,” into the top ten for 12 weeks, and from there the Folk Revival exploded. Peter, Paul and Mary, Highwaymen, Brothers Four, Rooftop Singers, New Christy Minstrels—all with major hits on the Pop charts in the early ’60s.

Then in ’65, The Byrds and Turtles, Bob Dylan going electric on Highway 61 Revisited and its six minute hit “Like a Rolling Stone.” The Mamas & Papas and Donovan in ’66. Youth-driven, mostly—but not entirely. While most mid-’60s Pop hits didn’t cross over to Adult Easy Listening, Folk Acts often did. In ’64, Gale Garnett’s “We’ll Sing in the Sunshine;” We Five’s “You Were on My Mind” in ’65, and in ’66, Staff Sgt. Barry Sadler’s “Ballad of the Green Berets“—a pro-military anthem, yes, but unmistakably Folk—#1 Easy Listening for five weeks and the #1 hit of the year on the Hot100.

So when Director Mike Nichols needed music for The Graduate, his movie about a recent College Grad adrift in suburban affluence and questionable affairs, Folk-Rock wasn’t just a good fit, it was the only fit. And Nichols already had a favorite Act: a cerebral, moody East Coast Duo whose music—”Scarborough Fair,” “April Come She Will,” plus their breakout hit from ’66, “The Sound of Silence“—became the film’s sonic palette. But he also got something new—just a demo, but once the movie hit theaters, they finished it, and it wound up their biggest hit yet, and Mike Nichols won Best Director at the Oscars. At #9, Simon & Garfunkel’s “Mrs. Robinson.”

In The Graduate, 21-year-old Benjamin returns home after graduating college and is seduced by his dad’s law partner’s wife, Mrs. Robinson—Oscar-nominated performances by Dustin Hoffman and Anne Bancroft. But the lyrics of the song “Mrs. Robinson” have nothing to do with “murky generational politics” as Movie Critic Roger Ebert put it. Or youth alienation. Or a 40-something Suburban Cougar.

Until the title was changed for the (mostly wordless) rush demo version in the movie, it was, according to Paul Simon, an unfinished Nostalgia piece “about times past” and Mrs. Roosevelt, the late widow of President Franklin Roosevelt. And once you know that, the lyrics make a lot more sense.

Well, mostly. “Coo-coo-ca-choo” was borrowed from The Beatles’ “I Am the Walrus.” The Fab Four’s Magical Mystery Tour soundtrack—in the top 20 on the album chart for most of the first half of ’68. Still, adults appreciated the shout out to their glory days: “Mrs. Robinson” got to #4 on the Easy Listening chart.

#8 John Fred & His Playboy Band – Judy in Disguise (With Glasses)

Next on our Chartcrush Top Ten Countdown of 1968’s top ten hits, a record that entered the Hot100 around Thanksgiving of 1967, way too late to rank in Billboard‘s 1967 year-end Hot100 tally. But also too early to have its rise up the chart factored into their 1968 ranking. So not counting those weeks, Billboard has it at just #25 for ’68. Now here at Chartcrush, we always factor every song’s full chart run, ranking it in the calendar year it saw most of its chart action, so year-straddling hits never fall through the cracks, unlike in Billboard to this day, so it’s our #8 song of ’68.

And speaking of Beatles influences, one Group in Baton Rouge, Louisiana was listening a lot to Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, especially the third song, “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds,” often misheard at the time as “Lucy in Disguise with Diamonds.” In the top ten end of December ’67 to mid-February ’68, #1 for two weeks in January, here’s John Fred & His Playboy Band’s Sgt. Pepper’s-inspired Novelty hit, “Judy in Disguise (With Glasses).”

John Fred and His Playboy Band charted their first record in 1959, but were strictly a regional Louisiana Act until “Judy in Disguise (With Glasses),” #8 on our Chartcrush Countdown of 1968’s top ten hits, so they’re mostly remembered as a one-hit wonder, and the song a period Novelty. But it was one of the first seeds of the flamboyant, genre-melding Piano-Pop that ruled in the early ’70s thanks mainly to Elton John. It’s all there: Bernie Taupin’s tongue-in-cheek pastiche and dense, borderline nonsense in the lyrics, the Louisiana Swamp-Pop drawl—authentic in John Fred’s case; not so much on Elton’s “Crocodile Rock,” “Honky Cat” and “Bennie and the Jets.”

“Judy in Disguise” was the first national hit for the New Orleans-based Paula label, but by ’69, John Fred was on MCA’s Uni label out of L.A., soon to be joined there by Elton himself for his first U.S. hits in 1970.

#7 Herb Alpert – This Guy’s in Love with You

So Adult hits, far and few between at the top of Pop singles charts in the mid ’60s, before grownups started to embrace youthful grooviness. But until The Monkees scored the top two albums of 1967, except for The Beatles, the top ten on Billboard‘s year-end Album charts—still mostly a bastion for the over-30 hi-fi set: Soundtracks, Folk, Barbra Streisand, and our Act at #7, a Latin Jazz Band led by its Trumpeter who from October 16, 1965 to April 29, 1967, had at least one album in the Top 10—81 consecutive weeks. Only The Kingston Trio and Peter, Paul and Mary had had longer runs up ’til then—notably both Folk Acts.

In ’68 he did a network TV special—same title as his new album just out, The Beat of the Brass—and despite not being a Singer, for the show’s finale he worked up a soft focus vid walking in the woods with his wife singing this song to her. Well, the switchboard lit up as soon as it aired and just weeks later, the record was #1, where it stayed for four weeks (ten on the Easy Listening chart). At #7, Herb Alpert on trumpet and lead vocals—no Tijuana Brass needed (his Band)—”This Guy’s in Love with You.”

Songwriters Burt Bacharach and Hal David were newly signed to the label Herb Alpert co-founded in 1962 with Record Exec Jerry Moss, A&M—short for Alpert and Moss. And they had no plans for “This Guy’s in Love with You” until Alpert asked them if they had any leftovers laying around. Bacharach did the arrangement, the video aired in that prime-time special, the single came out, and it was not only Alpert’s first #1 single, but also the label’s and Bacharach & David’s, after literally dozens of chart entries back to the late ’50s, most notably Dionne Warwick’s string of top10s. Not bad for a “leftover!”

#6 Diana Ross & The Supremes – Love Child

Well we’re counting down the top ten hits of 1968 here on this week’s edition of Chartcrush, and at #6 we have the other year-straddling hit that fell through the cracks on Billboard‘s year-end rankings. Like “Judy in Disguise” we heard at #8, several weeks of its run—outside Billboard‘s 1968 chart year and not counted. But unlike “Judy,” which began its run in ’67 and went into ’68, this one’s last seven weeks were in Billboard‘s 1969 chart year, so it only shakes out a at #27 on their ’68 ranking. But factoring its full run puts it at #6.

Only one Act besides The Beatles scored ten or more #1s in the ’60s. The Fab Four had 18; these gals had 12. Things had been a little shaky for them after the crew who wrote and produced the first ten—Lamont Dozier and Brothers Brian and Eddie Holland (H-D-H)—fell out with Motown Boss Berry Gordy, Jr. Their first post H-D-H single only got to #30—yikes. That after only one of their singles back to the Summer of ’64 failing to crack the top ten. “Nothing but Heartaches” peaked at #11 in ’65, sandwiched between their #1s “Back in My Arms Again” and “I Hear a Symphony.”

But in response, Gordy tapped four of Motown’s top behind-the-scenes talents, dubbed “The Clan,” and they came up with this—a rare triumph in the annals of “committee decisions.” At #6 it’s The Supremes, newly rechristened Diana Ross & The Supremes, their 11th #1 hit, “Love Child.”

No, Diana Ross & The Supremes and the five Motown big shots (including himself) that Berry Gordy, Jr. tasked with coming up with their next hit were not tapping into beads, incense and Aquarian Hippie vibes; “Love Child” was a pejorative for a child born out of wedlock in the ’60s, especially among Black folks. Diana Ross herself was a “Love Child,” and the emotional urgency of her performance of a song that tackled a serious social issue opened up a new chapter.

When they unveiled the song on The Ed Sullivan Show, gone were the shiny matching gowns and glamourous bouffant hairdos. These new Supremes, with Cindy Birdsong replacing Florence Ballard and Ross officially out front, sang in pants and bare feet—and a shabby yellow oversized sweatshirt for Ross.

“Love Child,” replaced at #1 after two weeks by Marvin Gaye’s “I Heard it Through the Grapevine,” another year-straddling Motown hit that was #1 the last three weeks of calendar ’68, but those weeks, after Billboard‘s cut-off for the chart year, so it’s not ranked at all for ’68, and just #86 for ’69 in Billboard. Counting songs’ full chart runs, “Love Child” is #6 on our Chartcrush ranking for ’68 we’re counting down the top ten from this hour, and “Grapevine,” with its seven total weeks at #1? Well that comes out the #1 song of ’69!

#5 Otis Redding – (Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay

Our #5 song this week logged all its chart points in 1968, so Billboard and Chartcrush are mostly in agreement: they have it one notch higher, at #4. A record that made history—recorded just three days before the Artist’s plane went down in a Wisconsin lake on approach in December ’67.

Yes, other stars had died suddenly at or just before the peak of fame—Glenn Miller, Buddy Clark, Hank Williams, Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, the Big Bopper, Patsy Cline, Sam Cooke—but none had a #1 hit after death. This was the first posthumous #1 in Pop chart history. At #5: Otis Redding, “(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay.”

Otis Redding made his name touring the Chitlin’ Circuit in the segregated South—and did well enough to buy his 300-acre Big O ranch in Georgia—but his raw, electrifying Soul hits for Memphis’s Stax and Volt labels crossed racial lines just as the Civil Rights movement—and Motown—were breaking down barriers nationwide. By ’66, he was touring Europe and headlining L.A.’s Whisky a Go Go—a Rock venue—which culminated in his transcendent finale at the Monterey Pop Festival in ’67, backed by Booker T. & The M.G.’s, playing to what he called “the love crowd.”

“(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay” was a song for them, inspired by Sgt. Pepper—Otis reaching beyond Soul toward something more universal. And his label, his Band, even his Wife hated it, but it was bold, and timely. Radio stations on both sides of the racial divide were hungry for crossover hits. So that, plus news of his untimely death, made it his first #1. He hadn’t even cracked the Top 20 before.

#4 Rascals – People Got to Be Free

And speaking of Pop-R&B crossover, at #4 on our Chartcrush countdown of 1968’s top ten hits, the Act Rolling Stone later called “the blackest White group” in music, with a hit they wrote and recorded as riots erupted in cities across America following the assassination of Dr. King. It also cracked the top 20 on the R&B chart, and they announced that they’d no longer play any gig without a Black Act also on the bill.

The song is a plea for tolerance and understanding that climbed to #1 in mid-August and stayed five weeks as the Democratic Convention in Chicago devolved into a street brawl as Mayor Daley’s blue-helmeted Riot Cops cracked down hard on Hippie Protesters. A better fit for that footage: the #2 song for three of those weeks, Steppenwolf’s Biker anthem “Born to Be Wild,” but on top, our #4 song, The Rascals’ “People Got to Be Free.”

No American mid-’60s Singles Act with the possible exception of Tommy James & The Shondells tried harder to adapt to the changing times in the late ’60s than The Young Rascals—dropping the “Young” for their first hit of the year, “A Beautiful Morning,” then scoring big with the song we just heard at #4, “People Got to Be Free” in the Summer.

Just as it was climbing the charts, they capped off their mid-’60s AM radio phase with Time Peace, a Greatest Hits album with all their hit singles—”Good Lovin,” “Groovin’,” “How Can I Be Sure.” Then they leapt headfirst into the album era with Freedom Suite, a double LP of sprawling, jazz-inflected jams. Critics liked the ambition, but fans missed the hooks, and their chart action faded.

#3 Bobby Goldsboro – Honey

Well we’re down to the small numbers here on our Chartcrush Countdown of 1968’s top ten hits, and at #3, the bestselling record in the world in 1968, #1 for five weeks right after “Dock of the Bay,” and right after the MLK assassination. A song that either hits you square in the tear ducts—or makes your skin crawl. No middle ground.

For some, it’s a heart-wrenching portrait of love and loss. For others, a manipulative dirge sung by a clueless guy whose “kinda dumb, kinda smart” wife mysteriously dies after years of his mockery. Either way, it was a massive comeback for the former Roy Orbison guitarist who’d had a couple of modest solo hits in the mid-’60s, then vanished—until this. United Artists’ fastest-selling single ever up ’til then. #1 in just four weeks. Bobby Goldsboro’s “Honey.”

“Honey,” Bobby Goldsboro, #3 on our Chartcrush Countdown of 1968’s top ten hits—a record that became—and still is—a kind of cultural Rorschach test. Is it one of the most moving, tender Ballads ever? Or, as Critic Robert Christgau wrote in Esquire at the time, “the classiest schlock of the year?” A staple on “worst songs of all time” lists for decades to come?

Some Critics go even further, reading it as a pre-Feminist fantasy about a submissive wife who dies—of what, exactly? Suicide? Illness? The lyrics don’t say—after years of being mocked and misunderstood by her husband, who then catalogues his own textbook toxicity in song. The counterculture, forging a new canon in ’68—and a new masculinity around Dylan, Hendrix and The Beatles, but at the same time the phrase “Silent Majority” surged as Nixon cruised to victory. “Honey” struck a deep chord with that America.

Even the Smothers Brothers couldn’t resist—a sketch on their CBS variety show—Dick Smothers as “The Honey Husband” leading a guided tour through “The Honey House,” crooning earnestly.

#2 Paul Mauriat – Love Is Blue (l’Amour Est Bleu)

Okay, so I’ve been talking a lot about how the Easy Listening charts were changing in ’68 as grownups started opening their ears to new sounds and new vibes. Well, #2 is exhibit “A”—an instrumental, complete with the lush strings and horn stabs so beloved by the hi-fi set in the ’60s—not to mention elevator riders and department store shoppers—but with a twist, harpsichord, the go-to Baroque flourish of the Psychedelic age, cropping up in hits like Donovan’s “Sunshine Superman,” Simon & Garfunkel’s “Scarborough Fair,” the Stones’ “Lady Jane,” and the one that started it all in ’65, The Beatles album cut “In My Life,” which was actually just a piano tricked out to sound like a harpsichord.

But to hear that sound leading a #1 Easy Listening record for eleven weeks? Something was happening. It even topped the Hot100 for five—first instrumental since “Telstar” in ’62. At #2 on our Chartcrush Countdown of 1968’s top ten hits: French Orchestra Leader Paul Mauriat’s “Love Is Blue.”

“Love Is Blue”—Luxembourg’s entry in the 1967 Eurovision Song Contest, where it came in fourth. But Paul Mauriat’s label saw Easy Listening potential in an instrumental version, and he delivered. It dropped in November, and when a Minneapolis DJ gave it a spin, phones lit up. It hit the Easy Listening chart in December, then the Hot100 in January—on its way to #1 for five weeks, February into March. And if not for Otis Redding’s “Dock of the Bay” it would’ve had two more. #2 on the year and the #1 Easy Listening hit of 1968. That wasn’t the slam-dunk you might think because another instrumental was hot on its heels. More on that in our bonus segment.

#1 Beatles – Hey Jude

But first, drumroll please, the #1 song of ’68, which totally was a slam-dunk: nearly 1,500 points in our ranking to “Love Is Blue’s” 918. And Paul Mauriat did a version of it, too, which peaked at #24 on the Easy Listening Chart. And Sergio Mendes’ Bossa Nova version of another of the Group’s songs, “The Fool on the Hill,” got to #1, as did one of the first singles on the Group’s new label, Apple Records—Mary Hopkins’ “Those Were the Days.”

But the Easy Listening audience—still clutching its pearls over John Lennon’s “bigger than Jesus” comment in ’66—the backlash over which hastened the Group’s retreat from touring for the safety and seclusion of the studio to craft Sgt. Peppers. So even with adults opening their ears to new sounds in ’68, the year’s #1 Pop hit—nowhere to be found on the Easy Listening chart. But on the Hot100? Nine weeks at #1, tying Bobby Darin’s 1959 record with “Mack the Knife,” and the #1 song of 1968 by a mile. Of course, The Beatles, “Hey Jude.”

That four-plus minute coda: for their first Apple Records single, The Beatles wanted the maximum length that could fit on a 45, and that’s “Hey Jude” at 7 minutes, 11 seconds. It debuted at #10 and shot to #1 after just two weeks, fastest of any 1968 hit. Like “Yesterday” in ’65, capping a chaotic year with something transcendent and personal.

Brainstormed by Paul McCartney driving out to see John Lennon’s first wife Cynthia after John had left her for Yoko Ono. But what began as a song to comfort their five-year-old son Julian—or Jules—during the separation became something much bigger: a universal balm for a generation reeling from the shocks of 1968. The name changed to “Jude,” possibly so John wouldn’t suspect its origin.

And on the flip? Lennon’s “Revolution,” inspired by student protests and political unrest. That notches in at #74 on our Chartcrush ranking for ’68—neither song on their double album—The White Album—that dropped just weeks later.

Oh, and although The Beatles didn’t make the Easy Listening chart in ’68, George Harrison’s “Something” from Abbey Road did at the end of ’69, and then McCartney’s “Let It Be” became their first Easy Listening #1 in early 1970, just as they were breaking up. John Lennon never topped the Easy Listening or Adult Contemporary chart as a Solo Act, but Julian Lennon did: “Too Late for Goodbyes” in 1985.

Bonus

Well there you have ’em, our Chartcrush Top Ten for 1968. But we’re not quite done because to review, two year-straddling hits that didn’t make Billboard‘s ’68 year-end top ten make ours when you factor their full chart runs and not just weeks within Billboard‘s “chart year.” Those again: John Fred & His Playboy Band’s “Judy in Disguise (with Glasses)” at #8 and Diana Ross & The Supremes’ “Love Child” at #6. Which means that two songs from Billboard‘s year-end top ten, squeezed out of ours. To be thorough, let’s look at those.

#18 Hugo Montenegro – The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

At #8, Billboard had the instrumental that nearly beat “Love Is Blue” as the #1 Easy Listening hit of the year—26 weeks on the chart to Mauriat’s 21, but just three at #1. It’s Orchestra Leader Hugo Montenegro’s version of Ennio Morricone’s theme for Sergio Leone’s 1966 Spaghetti Western starring Clint Eastwood, The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.

Hugo Montenegro was an in-demand soundtrack guy in L.A. cutting records for RCA when his album of  Spaghetti Western themes came out in ’68, “The Good, the Bad and the Ugly,” done in one day with Hugo and session guys improvising the sounds from Ennio Morricone’s original. The result? #1 on the Easy Listening chart for three weeks, and #2 on the Hot100 for a week, behind “Mrs. Robinson.” Billboard‘s got it at #8 on the year; it’s #18 on our Chartcrush ranking.

#42 Cream – Sunshine of Your Love

And at #6, Billboard had one of the year’s definitive Rock songs. But the math behind that ranking? A little sketchy. It only peaked at #5—possibly a Hippie fan of the Band in the charts department tweaking the algorithm in ’68? Here’s the single edit of Cream’s “Sunshine of Your Love.”

Cream’s “Sunshine of Your Love” had two runs on the Hot100. It exited in April after peaking at #36, then re-entered in July and got to #5—26 total weeks, the most of any Hot100 hit in ’68. The average, about 14 weeks, so there are ranking scenarios that favor longevity on the chart and get it into the top ten. Our Chartcrush ranking, though? We’ve got it at #42.

And that’s all we’ve got for you here on our 1968 edition of The Chartcrush Top Ten Countdown Show. I’ve been your host, Christopher Verdesi and I want to thank you for listening. Hey, if you like what you heard and want more, head on over to our website, chartcrush.com, where you can stream episodes of the show online, follow along with written transcripts, and check out savage extras like our full top 100 charts and interactive line graphs of the actual chart runs of the top 10 songs.

We do that for every year—’40s to now—and it’s all on that website, again, chartcrush.com. Thanks again, and don’t forget to tune in again next week, same station and time, for another year, and another edition of Chartcrush.

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