What is nostalgia?
I was born in 1971. The 70’s were a decade creative birth like no other — the advancement of commercial pop and birth of funk, heavy metal, punk, glam rock, disco and hip hop. The world first saw bell bottom jeans, platform boots, quiffs, flares and lycra. We were introduced to the first video games, VHS recorders, monopoly, the walkman and microwaves. Whilst the Vietnam war ended in ‘75 the UK went on strike, from postal workers to miners to dustmen — even ITV went off air for five months in 1979. There was the heatwave of ‘76, Britain went decimal and by the end of the decade the country was being led by the first female Prime Minister — Margaret Thatcher.
But like with so many people, my first 10 years went by in a haze. I barely remember anything of the above. Snippets of barbeques during the summer of ’76, snow at Christmas time, the walkman, Mum’s hostess trolley and a host of non-sequential memories scattered amongst a formative decade.
Which is strange. They say that the formative years or the early stages of childhood are between 0–8 years of a child’s life where they learn more quickly than at any other time in life. These are the years in which a child experiences rapid cognitive (intellectual), social, emotional, and physical development. Yet I, like so many others, have little memory of these years.
No, my decade was the 1980’s. And whilst we all have a tendancy of looking back with rose-tinted glasses, the ‘80s really does hold a very special place in my heart. Even today, when I hear the original 1981 recordings of “Girls on Film” or “Planet Earth” by Duran Duran I experience a wave of nostalgia unlike any other.
But what and why is this? Is it a yearning for my youth? A memory of what I percieved to be a happier or better time?
I was brought up on a strange musical diet. My parents were born in 1940/1941 yet only really listened to the “big bands” of the swing era. If music was played in the house then it would be Artists like Glenn Miller and Frank Sinatra. None of The Beatles or Rolling Stones. My mother did eventually evolve into a fan of Chis De Burgh, Barry Manilow, ABBA and latter Bee Gee’s tracks, but my Dad? No discernable music taste whatsoever, prefering the audio tapes of comedian Tony Hancock which we listened to on repeat, on every road trip. He was, admittedly, was very funny. Tony Hancock that is, not my Dad.
So my earliest musical memories were ABBA’s “Super Trouper”, Bucks Fizz winning the 1981 Eurovision song contest with “Making your mind up”, The Wombles and Joe Dolce’s “Shaddap your face”.
Dire I know.
When my taste buds began to develop it was for commercial pop. I became a big fan of Adam and the Ants, Duran Duran, Japan and Spandau Ballet. The new romantic movement really peaked my interest, with frilly shirts, dyed hair and stage show make-up. I loved it all. I loved how the bands wore what could only be described as costumes, had stage names and put on an act. Ziggy Stardust had set the standard a decade earlier and this latest batch of hopefuls just completely ran with it. To me this was creativity at its peak. No other era since could boast the same.
It also felt that anything was possible. Yes for many the 1980’s was a decade of excess but there was also a lot of negativity. Aside from “The” Royal Wedding, Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” and Live Aid, there was the Falklands War, the outbreak of AIDS, the death of John Lennon, Chernobyl, the Challenger disaster, Brixton riots, IRA bombing, Lockerbie and Hillsborough. For the economy the decade began in a recession, there was high unemployment, more miners strikes, interest rates peaked at 15% and inflation at 16.4%. Things were certainly good for the “haves” but not so good for the “have nots”.
But I was a child and therefore sheltered from this economic turmoil. I bathed in the technicolour glory of the creative movement. I started a band, wore make-up, dyed my hair and did my very best of emulating my heros, convinced that I too could make it. There really was a sense of possibility.
Was this the naivety of youth? The blind faith that you have until life’s responsibilities bring you back down to Earth with a crash?
So is this what nostalgia really is? A memory of a carefree time? Of a time endless possibility when you could be anything, be anyone and go anywhere? A time before judgements and responsibility? And these songs that take us back are just an audible worm-hole to a moment?
Whatever it is it has an undeniable warmth to it.
