Poptastic?

BBC4 are showing old episodes of Top Of The Pops from 1977. Ah, 1977. Queen, ELO, Mike Oldfield, Abba... you name it, everything musical in ’77 was awesomely cool, generally brilliant and undeniably ace. Hang on... I’ve never heard of this lot. Why have those girls got hardly any clothes on? DAVID SOUL?!! Aaaaahg!

In a stunningly clever televisual programme planning masterclass, BBC4 recently followed up their hugely chronological (and cheap) wander through TOTP 1976, by kicking off with 77. In January! Clever, that – if they show 1 a week, they’ll just have enough to last the year. I should get into TV – that’s clearly where the clever people are. And presumably some spare cash, as they didn’t have to pay anything - except maybe for a hoover to get the dust off the VT boxes.

If, like me, you are hugely old, and can remember this time (I was, of course, in nappies, but remember it all like it was yesterday. I was 10 at the time, so it was a touch awkward at school), you’ll be fondly recalling strikes, droughts, Conservative Governments, an awful lot of bad haircuts and blokes wearing shirts that were, in fact, blouses. Probably in a slightly scratchy, yellow-tinged style, which seems to denote anything from that era on TV nowadays.

(Erm.. just checking – we ARE still talking about 77 aren’t we, and not 2012? Yes. OK then – easy to get them confused.)

The last decade has shown a nostalgic streak normally reserved for your Gran on Boxing Day after 3 Gins, and we’ve been deluged with Top Of The Pops 2 shows and similar programmes, giving us the wonderful highlights of the lazy, hazy days, lulling us into the false sense of security that all musical output from that era was ace. Everyone was a genius of Beethoven’s level (except with long hair, a beard and flares) and every song a memorable hit.

Sadly, this is much like eating the tasty bit of pork pie whilst ignoring the plate full of cabbage, Brussels sprouts, mashed swede and that gravy with the lumps in. Just like those disappointing family dinners of your youth, some bits were scrummy, but an awful lot of it was unpalatable mush, so long in the cooker that it all looked and tasted pretty similar.

For every Bohemian Rhapsody, there were another half a dozen all-male bands from America, who either thought it was still 1975, or were dressed like satin pimps, doing a dreadful dance routine. For each Abba masterpiece, there were loads of earnest singer-songwriter types sat at a piano, hamming their way through some sappy love tune.

Whilst Legs & Co continued the theme of women as objects to be ogled by your Dad (and the only reason any bloke over 30 watched TOTP), ’77 saw the turning of the musical tide. As the remains of disco and prog, whilst not actually being killed off (or, in fact, in any way being ‘wrong’), were forced to do battle with a wave of New.. er.. Wave acts, washing away the foundations of their sandcastles of increasing complexity. Have I overdone the beach metaphors? Sorry about that.

With bands like Elvis Costello & The Attractions, The Jam and The Boomtown Rats starting to crop up on TOTP, a new era was, rather shirtily, barging it’s way in, with a sneer and some sharp suits for good measure. True, punk was what the fuss was all about but, whilst not insignificant, the bigger impact came from these angry trailblazers, as the 70’s dwindled away, with an odd mix of pomp , grandeur, widdly guitar solos and long hair from the likes of Queen, Led Zeppelin and the Eagles, or hyper dancefloor fillers from the last gasps of disco, with the Bee Gees, surprisingly ELO, and a thousand faceless divas seeing off the white flares with aplomb and cheesy dancing.

The 80’s were just around the corner, trying not to let their Mum see how much make-up they were wearing, and attempting not to asphyxiate themselves in a cloud of ozone-depleting hairspray. Or struggling to get through doorways because of the kind of shoulder pads the RAF can land jets on at sea in an emergency.

I liked the 70’s.

I loved the 80’s...

(Crikey – I’m through to the last 8! Thanks, you smashing readers! I really appreciate your support. I promise to stop hanging around outside your house with the placards. At night, anyway.)

This blog post appeared yesterday as an entry in the North West Evening Mail's "Big Blogger" competition. Do me a favour - click on this link to view it on their website, please? Thanks to your clicks, I've made it through to the last 8. Another person gets eliminated next Monday... Me, probably..!

(Still on that mammoth Argentinian ELO radio show - now programme 3. It's still early 70's stuff...)