Songwriting is full of myths, but “25 or 6 to 4” by Chicago stands out because the truth behind it is even cooler than any urban legend. Released in 1970 on the band’s second album, the track emerged at a time when rock music was splintering into countless new forms—horn-driven rock, jazz fusion, psychedelic experimentation, and everything in between. Chicago, a band already known for bending genres, delivered a song that somehow blended all of those elements into one of the most memorable rock tracks of the early ’70s.
The song has always carried a certain mystique. For decades, listeners tried to decode the meaning of the phrase “25 or 6 to 4,” assuming it was some kind of cryptic drug reference, an inside message, or a spiritual metaphor. Instead, the title was simply a description: Robert Lamm wrote the song while trying to finish lyrics late at night, noticing that the clock read “twenty-five or twenty-six minutes to four.” That small detail became the centerpiece of a track that captured the creative process itself—exhaustion, inspiration, confusion, and the spark that finally lights up the page.
But “25 or 6 to 4” is far more than a clever title. It’s a showcase of Chicago’s signature fusion of rock and brass, a powerful example of how the band could take a simple idea and expand it into something massive. Its distinctive guitar riff, explosive horn lines, and electric atmosphere have helped it endure for more than five decades. Whether you hear it on a classic rock station, blasting from an arena speaker, or rediscovered on streaming playlists, the song still hits with the same punch it carried in 1970.
The Guitar Riff That Became Immortal
One of the first things listeners notice in “25 or 6 to 4” is that legendary descending guitar riff. It’s one of the most instantly recognizable riffs in rock history, simple enough to be played by beginners yet powerful enough to anchor an entire song. Terry Kath—Chicago’s wildly talented, often underrated guitarist—turns a lean, disciplined sequence of notes into something unforgettable.
Kath’s tone isn’t flashy or over-processed. It’s raw, crunchy, and emotional, giving the song a gritty backbone that contrasts beautifully with the crisp, polished horn arrangements. His style had always leaned toward blues and hard rock, and this riff is one of his finest moments: rhythmic, hypnotic, and packed with tension.
What makes the riff so effective is its sense of inevitability. It keeps descending, drawing the listener deeper into the song’s mood. It evokes late-night introspection, creative frustration, and that peculiar mental fog that happens when inspiration hides just out of reach. Kath’s later guitar solo, which burns through the track with ferocity and technique, elevates the entire piece. His playing on “25 or 6 to 4” is a reminder of why he’s still considered one of rock’s most overlooked legends.
A Horn Section That Amplifies the Drama
Chicago was one of the few rock bands of the era that featured a horn trio as a core part of its identity. On “25 or 6 to 4,” the horns don’t simply support the arrangement—they electrify it.
James Pankow (trombone), Lee Loughnane (trumpet), and Walt Parazaider (woodwinds) add blasts of energy that collide perfectly with the driving groove. Their rhythmically tight punches give the song bursts of brightness and tension, like sudden flashes of light in a dimly lit room. Chicago’s horn lines never felt tacked on; they were essential to the band’s DNA, and here they heighten the song’s urgency.
The horns follow the riff, answer the vocals, and explode during the climactic moments. Even listeners who don’t gravitate toward brass-heavy music often find themselves drawn in by how seamlessly it blends with the rock foundation. Chicago made horns cool, and “25 or 6 to 4” is one of the clearest examples of how they did it.
The Lyrical Snapshot of a Writer at Work
The song’s lyrics are deceptively simple but incredibly relatable, especially for anyone who has tried to force creativity when exhaustion is taking over. Robert Lamm captures that late-night haze better than most writers ever have:
“Waiting for the break of day
Searching for something to say”
The lines aren’t abstract metaphors—they’re literal descriptions of the writing process. Lamm is sitting, guitar in hand, mind struggling to focus, waiting for inspiration to strike. The result is a song about trying to write a song, a strange but strikingly honest meta approach that makes the track stand out.
When the chorus arrives—“25 or 6 to 4”—the title becomes less of a mysterious code and more of a timestamp. It’s late, the world is quiet, and creativity refuses to cooperate. Yet somehow, in the middle of this struggle, a rock classic emerges.
It’s a reminder that sometimes great art appears not in moments of clarity, but in moments of uncertainty.
A Rhythm Section That Locks In Tight
Beyond the guitar and horns, the rhythm section gives “25 or 6 to 4” its momentum. Danny Seraphine, one of rock’s most underrated drummers, provides a groove that is smooth yet heavy, precise yet dynamic. His playing keeps the track moving like a machine, but with nuance and musicality that enhances every transition.
Peter Cetera’s bass line works in perfect harmony with Seraphine’s drums, providing depth and warmth without ever overpowering the mix. Cetera is widely known for his later ballad work, but here he shows his rock credentials with a pulsing, melodic bass performance.
The combination of drums and bass creates a sense of forward motion, like the ticking of that late-night clock reminding Lamm of the hour as he tries to shape his lyrics.
A Song That Crossed Genres and Generations
When “25 or 6 to 4” hit the airwaves in 1970, it became one of Chicago’s earliest hits and helped define the sound of their second album. The track blended rock, jazz, blues, and even bits of psychedelic flair. That blend made it accessible to different audiences: rock fans loved the guitar, jazz listeners admired the horn arrangements, and pop fans embraced its catchy momentum.
Over the years, the song has reappeared in countless contexts—high school marching bands, sports arenas, classic rock radio rotations, movie soundtracks, and modern playlists. Many younger listeners hear the riff long before they know the song or the band.
The enduring appeal highlights Chicago’s unique position in rock history. While many bands of the era chased a single stylistic lane, Chicago built a sound that was expansive and flexible. “25 or 6 to 4” is a perfect example of how they used that versatility to craft something lasting.
A Showcase of Chicago’s Early Identity
The song also represents who Chicago was before the softer, more ballad-heavy years that later defined part of their career. In 1970, the band was still very much an experimental force: bold, loud, adventurous, and willing to blend genres with unusual confidence.
Tracks like this one show the band’s early ambition—to create music that was both musically complex and immediately engaging. “25 or 6 to 4” succeeds because it balances those extremes. The arrangement is carefully constructed, but the energy feels spontaneous. The horn lines are sophisticated, but the guitar riff is primal. The lyrics are introspective, but the song feels like a burst of creative fire.
A Classic That Still Resonates
More than fifty years after its release, “25 or 6 to 4” still stands as one of Chicago’s greatest achievements. It isn’t just a product of its time—it transcends it. The song captures something universal about the creative process, the struggle of finding words or inspiration in the silence of early morning hours. At the same time, it delivers a powerful musical punch that continues to excite new listeners.
Its legacy is undeniable. Whether played by seasoned musicians analyzing its structure or young guitarists learning that iconic riff for the first time, “25 or 6 to 4” continues to inspire.
And that might be the most fitting tribute of all: a song written in a fog of late-night frustration became one of rock’s clearest, brightest moments—proof that sometimes the magic arrives when you’re simply awake at 3:35 in the morning, waiting for something to say.
