IN 1977 music changed for ever with the brash, noisy arrival of punk rock. It had previously existed as an underground movement, but, when the Sex Pistols took a pop at the establishment in their then-shocking single God Save the Queen during the year of our monarch's silver jubilee, punk turned into a bona-fide cultural movement. Teens were soon idolising the Sex Pistols' Sid Vicious and sneaking up to their bedrooms to listen to the band's music as loud as they dared.
Several other groundbreaking bands also made their mark on the youth of the day around this time, including Stiff Little Fingers, the Clash, Joy Division, Siouxsie the Banshees and the Jam.
The 1980s heralded another new musical movement in the form of the New Romantics (whose followers were the Blitz Kids). Bands such as Duran Duran, Spandau Ballet, Adam and the Ants and Culture Club pioneered a sound that felt, in many ways, like an updated version of glam rock, but was infused with an 1980s sensibility that was both more aspirational and accessible.
The Smiths arrived on the scene, led by the romantic-yet-tragic Steven Patrick Morrissey, pictured with Johnny Marr, right, emerging as a direct backlash to the New Romantics. The band delivered the kind of miserabilist lyrics that kept many a teen confined to their bedroom. Little wonder Morrissey had become an icon in his own right by the end of the decade.
The icily gorgeous Debbie Harry, punking things up with Blondie from the late 1970s, and the smokily dangerous Chrissy Hynde of the Pretenders, were new role models for girls - and the latter proved that women didn't have to be classically pretty to become musical superstars. And then of course, there was Madonna, whose eponymous 1983 album produced huge hits such as Holiday and Borderline. By 1986 she was one of the biggest stars on the planet, rivalled only by the "king of pop", Michael Jackson, whose solo album Thriller broke records, reinvented the music video for the new MTV generation and, lest we forget, gave rise to the Moonwalk.
BY THE late 1970s fashion had become the easiest way to tell the world who you were, and no style sent out the message faster than punk. Thanks to Vivenne Westwood, right (her London boutique Sex became the epicentre of punk fashion), and later New Romantic styles (as typified by Adam and the Ants' pirate look), hip teenagers were dressing in ripped T-shirts and oversized safety pins, and styling their hair into Mohicans dyed all the colours of the rainbow.
For girls not so keen to punk it up, Madonna's look became de rigueur, comprising fingerless lace gloves, chunky leather jackets, an armful of Maripol rubber bangles and neon wrist cuffs.
An even girlier look was christened by Jennifer Beals in Flashdance, with one bare shoulder becoming a must-have look, along with a pair of fluffy pink legwarmers and a headband.
New Romantics introduced boys to the frilly shirt, often teamed with stone-washed denims. An alternative was the Oxfam chic look, popularised by Morrissey, Dexy's Midnight Runners and Bananarama, and typified by ripped jeans, old cardigans and shabby raincoats.
Old romantics were inspired by the engagement of Prince Charles to teenage Lady Diana Spencer, and took their style cues from The Sloane Ranger's Handbook.
Hair remained long, for boys and girls, and was often big, either thanks to backcombing and blasts of Elnett, or the tragic mullet cut.
DRUGS use was steadily rising among teenagers.
While LSD fell out of fashion, many were still smoking marijuana and, as the 1980s progressed, a new drug appeared: cocaine. Although still out of reach to most middle-class teenagers, by 1986 it was increasingly prevalent, and paved the way for the explosion in teen drugs use in the early 1990s. And there was another, even more dangerous drug: heroin.
From council estates to country estates, it became a popular, and potentially lethal, option. High-profile, celebrity use by Boy George, Elton John and other stars proved no-one was immune to its deadly charms.
While homosexuality was less taboo and young men and women found it easier than ever to come out, this sexual revolution was not without repercussions.
By 1986, HIV and Aids were on the increase, not just among gay men but also in the heterosexual community. The days of free love were over for now.
WHEN Sony introduced the Walkman, right, in 1979 it heralded a revolution among teenagers.
Not only could you walk about listening to music on your own personal set of headphones, it was an ideal way to ignore your parents as well. It was a step up from the portable transistor radio, also popular around that time and often found in school locker rooms with several teens crouched around it, avidly listening to Radio 1. The first video games also made their debut around this time, with the home version of Pong reaching the height of its popularity in 1977, played on consoles from Atari and others.
Space Invaders soon replaced it in 1979, its sounds soon becoming an irritating fixture of almost all early home computers and video games, such as the Commodore 64 and Atari VCS.
THE dawn of punk in 1977 was proclaimed a cultural "year zero", and had similar repercussions for teen attitudes. As the hippie movement petered out, a new generation arrived: angry and desperate to shake things up.
And they had plenty to be angry about, as the late 1970s ushered in the Winter of Discontent, characterised by widespread industrial strikes across the country and soaring unemployment. Then came the election of a Tory prime minister - for many youths their first taste of Conservatism - Margaret Thatcher, our first woman premier, and unemployment soared higher still.
John Lennon's murder in 1980 tolled a death knell for innocence, as did the outbreak of war in the Falklands two years later.
Meanwhile, the feminist movement of the 1980s led to young women gaining an increased awareness of their rights to equality.
For teens growing up under Thatcher's brand of capitalism, the pursuit of wealth became acceptable in a way it had never been for those who came of age in the 1960s and 70s.
It is worth bearing in mind that many of these teens went on to become the first generation of Yuppies (Young Urban Professionals), fuelling the money-driven highs of the late 1980s and the biggest entrepreneurial boom the country had ever seen.
"DIPSTICK" An idiot. Rose to popularity thanks to Boss Hogg on the hit US TV show The Dukes of Hazzard
"CHEESY" Sentimental, naff (see "totally" for usage)
"TOTALLY" Meaning really, extremely, eg "that new Duran Duran single is totally cheesy"
"BOY TOY" Originally meant a woman with a reputation. Later subverted (mainly thanks to Madonna, right) as an alternative to 'toy boy', meaning a young man who was the plaything of an older woman
"MAY THE FORCE BE WITH YOU" Catchphrase from the seminal 1970s' film, Star Wars
AS WITH Elvis before him, the kids never could resist a fallen icon (especially a dead one)
BEFORE the scandals, before the surgery, Jackson was just a great singer with some brilliant moves
FROM the mid-1970s I was a suedehead, which was the second generation of skinheads.
It was a big deal in young male gang culture in the east of Scotland. I was into a special look, influenced by my older brothers. We used to go to Glasgow and get our shirts from a tailor called Arthur Black in St Enoch Square, Fair Isle jumpers from Argyll House on Buchanan Street, and beautiful Crombie overcoats.
But it was very regimented, and already I was getting more interested in individual style.
When punk happened, it was the absolute gospel for me. I was 15 when it arrived, in 1976, and suddenly everything made sense.
I got my first taste of punk by listening to John Peel, then it was a mad trip down to London and the 100 Club to see bands like Siouxsie the Banshees. I was hooked.
It was a peculiar year, 1976, with an extraordinarily hot summer, and there was a riot in Notting Hill over unemployment and race issues.
We were coming out of a very grey, bleak time. Punk was a reaction to that, and a celebration of the individual.
For us working-class kids in the east of Scotland, job opportunities were thin.
You could join the Army, go down the mines or work in the docks. We didn't want to do these things, but we didn't want to be unemployed. Punk had a real DIY ethic, an aggressive edge.
We loathed hippies. They were like an old, damp cloth, they didn't have that get-up-and-go quality needed to change life.
A Clockwork Orange was seminal for me - both as a book and a film.
I was far too young to see the film at the cinema, but I got in anyway. It captured something that a film hasn't captured so successfully since: the sheer exuberance and excitement of being young.
I had black hair with a white stripe down the middle, like a skunk.
I got my clothes from second-hand shops in the Cowgate. It was brilliant - if you could overcome the smell - finding winklepickers and suits. I used to spend Saturday mornings there, then I met a couple of girls who were dressmakers and they started to put some clothes together for us, tailored to our own crazy ideas.
The Clash were a big influence, also New York artists and bands like Television and Patti Smith - they had a more bohemian look. I was never as dishevelled as some of the other punks; I stayed a bit smarter. My clothes were like protection, a suit of armour.
We were one of the first punk bands in Scotland, and people saw us as a threat. We weren't driving around in our own car, we were on public transport, and it was dangerous. When we did The Saints Are Coming on Top of the Pops, I had been in a really bad fight at a Rock Against Racism rally in the Meadows the weekend before, and I had quite a badly messed-up face.
I was very politicised. Every act was political. Starting our own record label was political.
We had our own fanzine, Kingdom Come, although we were only 16-year-olds from a housing estate in Dunfermline: that's political. Nowadays, people think that punk happened under a Tory government, but it was Labour, under Jim Callaghan.
But it was a really exciting period, especially in London.
In relation to where I'd come from, I felt like I'd suddenly arrived on a different planet. Being a young person was valued, whereas [back home in Scotland] nobody cared what your views were.
I became friends with Siouxsie the Banshees, Joe Strummer of The Clash, Steve Jones and Paul Cook from the Sex Pistols.
I was younger than most, so I was like a kid let loose in a sweet shop - I soaked it all up. I'd go into these cool, underground clubs full of interesting, creative people. You'd be standing at the bar and see David Bowie, or Lou Reed.
You were mixing with people who you thought were mythical, but they weren't really. And they thought we were cool too, because we were trying to do something [new].
It was a decadent period.
We were a bunch of young people connecting with other young people, with no older people around. It was a full-on world, a celebration of being young. That's what punk was about for me, celebrating youth and finding a voice.
All I remember at the time was that the only guys 'into' punk used as a reaction to their parents (how original) as a metaphorical two-fingers to them, but behind their backs of course. They two guys I am thinking of went to do law and medicine respectively.
it was entirely a fashion thing as Richard 'Narcissus' Jobson correctly remembers.
There was a punk look that kids bought into which should have been against everything they stood for. Reactionary, maybe, political or intelligent I think not.
The music was dire and has not stood the test of time.
A lot of the bands like the Stranglers were quick to take the money then move on.
I am sorry but your reporter should go back to her day job at the Jackie. The piece lacks balance and authenticity.
Her line though about Chrissie Hynde - smokingly dangerous - had me changing my underwear though, it was priceless.
The only band who still have any credibility is Half Man Half Biscuit. They have become the only band doing serious social satire any more and their last offering 'Achtung Bono' (now there's a to**er) is a masterful mid-40s rant - but very funny.
They still live in Birkenhead. In a world where every celebrity apparently comes form a working class background, they still do.
After the excitment of punk and once the novelty wore off the new romantics, 1980s music settled down to be boring, annoying and humdrum.
We had the first manufactured stars all singing watery-sounding songs and all with the EXACT SAME drumbeat.
With the exception of Dire Straits and Queen, even the very few numbers that could be remotely classified as rock were only half way there with this annoying boom-chick boom-chick going on in the background.
It was a breath of fresh air when the 1990s arrived and we started to see real bands become popular again, like Kula-Shaker, Oasis, Pulp and Manic Street Preachers.
To be honest, the mid 1980s is an era that I'd rather forget musically (apart from Dire Straits and Queen). I personally used the time to get more familiar with bands like Roxy Music, Led Zeppelin and The Doors.
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