I was in college in the late 1970s and had the great good fortune of having a few friends who turned me on to some fabulous music. I really liked The Clash and The Jam (and still listen to Paul Weller, for what it's worth). There were several camps at the time. The "progressive" bands -- Yes and ELP and King Crimson, for example -- had all gone completely over the edge into their endless, self-indulgent frippery. There was the bloodless muzak of Fleetwood Mac and The Eagles. There was pre-fab foolishness like Boston, who were huge when I was in college. Oh, and there were the punks. Imagine in your head for just the briefest of moments one of the bad songs from that time -- God, there surely are plenty to choose from, but how about "Don't Stop" (Thinkin' About Tomorrow) -- and then consider "White Riot" or "In the City" -- from the first Clash and first Jam albums, respectively -- and you'll then know what a fabulous breath of fresh air the "punks" were at that time. We needed them. Rock 'n' roll needed them. Joe Strummer saved our souls.
Or, put another way, I got yer asthetics for ya, right heah!
Or, put another way, I got yer asthetics for ya, right heah!