From nowhere, Johnny Rodriguez, country music's first Mexican-American star (PEOPLE, March 25) rocketed up the charts. He barnstormed Europe and the TV circuit, including an Adam-12 episode, perhaps seeking police protection from ravenous groupies pursuing this bachelor, now 23. His manager, who found Rodriguez strumming in a Texas jail, wants Vegas next but only "top spot in a No. 1 club."
Few singer-songwriters have roused the jaded rock critics like Jackson Browne, 26. Weaving thoughtful, searching lyrics into his band's easy, country-flavored rock, Browne has ascended from cult purgatory over the past year with two fervently-acclaimed LPs (Late for the Sky, For Everyman). A 39-city tour and a widening concert audience is expected to turn both albums to gold early next year.
The supergroup is to rock music what the all-star team is to sports. Gentleman virtuosos heydayed in the late '60s with such peerless groups as Blind Faith and Cream. This might just be Sisterhood's year. Old friends Bonnie Raitt, Linda Ronstadt and Maria Muldaur encored together after a Ronstadt gig in Santa Monica. Could they be the nucleus of the dream team of '75?
Nothing short of U.S. Immigration can stop Britain's Paul Rodgers (below) and his Bad Company group from recolonizing the States. Rodgers, 25, and his three colleagues are now being propelled by the same shrewd operatives that made Led Zeppelin the biggest-grossing group in history. Their first album, Bad Co., went platinum, and this spring they will stomp their sound—merciless metal—across the U.S.