Punk. Changed things, didn't it? Had its roots in pub rock - small venues, small crowds.
Did I ever tell you about the Pistols gig at Manchester Free Trade Hall?
The kids had nothing. There were all these boring old farts making boring old music for boring old people. There was no future.
The kids picked up their guitars. They taught themselves a chord, another chord, another chord. One, two, three.
The kids had something and nothing would be the same again.
The UK was rubble and rubbish. Bleak, boring. Grim, grey. The kids had nothing. They had nothing to lose.
Then the kids had something. They had nothing, then they had something. Three chords. A synthesiser. One finger. One finger to the establishment.
Nothing. Nothing to lose. Something.
No future. A future.
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Happy Birthday, Mr. DeVice!
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