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1977 If you've ever seen Spike Lee's film, "Summer of Sam" (about the impact of serial killer David "Son of Sam" Berkowitz on one Brooklyn neighborhood, as well as the movie that made John Travolta a star, i.e., "Saturday Night Fever," (set in what was probably the same Brooklyn neighborhood as Spike Lee's joint), then you've seen two dramatizations of what is sometimes a painful truth; people, even those with much in common living under common social conditions, can be divided, sometimes to the point of violence, over matters of taste and attitude. For me, 1977 was a year that underscored this very point. In my white working class Jersey neighborhood, Springsteen, Led Zep, and metal ruled. The older druggies clung to Hendrix, The Doors, The Who and other icons of their younger glory days. At the same time, at my Jesuit prep high school, with its many rich suburban kids, snobbery, including musical snobbery, was the order of the day. While it was perfectly acceptable to like 'progressive' or artsy rock (Steely Dan would be an exemplar), an admission of an appreciation for Black Sabbath or Kiss marked you as a dirtbag, and made everyone wonder, why weren't you in public school with all the rest of the hoods from your scuzzy city neigborhood? And then came punk; neither the young preppies nor the neighborhood metalheads quite knew what to make of it. Yet both factions seemed to agree: It was a threat to all of their assumptions. which is why I loved and embraced it. I remember discovering punk by reading references to it in Creem, Rolling Stone, and other such publications, by hearing a copy of The Ramones which belonged to my older brother's college roomate when they both happened to be at our house one weekend, and then, by discovering a legendary record store, "Bleeker Bob's" in Greenwich Village, NYC, one day. I remember buying records by bands like The Jam, The Dead Boys, The Buzzcocks, etc. taking them home and loving their speed, energy, attitude, (in some cases) humor, and sociocultural themes. Somehow, they made much of what I was listening to up to that point sound stale, cliched, and obsolete. (Only later would I rediscover the 70s rock of my youth, perhaps around the time of Aerosmith's big "comeback" record - Permanent Vacation - and start liking the old stuff again.) So to me, 1977 is a very special year. While it was not easy to be 15, an idealist, and to get grief from others for embracing a new development like punk which they rejected in kneejerk fashion, in retrospect, I can see that the clash of styles was probably, in the long run, a positive thing. It forced change, and progressive minded guy that I am, I figure that change is mostly a healthy and positive thing. One other note about 1977; This was the year that the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack sat high on the top of the charts. And just as with punk, disco was seen as that "faggot shit" in my neighborhood. Yet, disco and punk had at least one thing in common. They got those who embraced them out onto the dance floor. Not that the pogo looked anything like the hustle, of course. Now, on to the LP list for 1977 - Tom Tiny Dancer: Not so fast, Tom! Buddy has a rebuttal (the list has been moved to the next page): To my understanding Summer Of Sam (which I haven't seen) was about a neighborhood in the Bronx, not Brooklyn. Granted: to you it might not seem different but it is. Albeit a subtle difference but, still a difference that even Spike would pick up on. "Saturday Night Fever" was about where I live now, Bay Ridge. A Republican enclave of 3 & 4 generation mixed European ancestry who are upper middle class (don't know how I got in). Although lately we are being infused with a large arabic, and Russian immigration. (But "Saturday Night Fever" was about the borders where Bay Ridge abuts Bensonhurst-Jungle Fever-and Dyker Heights). In my neighborhood, at the time Sunset Park, Led Zep was more a part of our music. See, I had a problem with integrating punk into my listening arena. It seemed to me that the people who embraced punk were just rejecting what came before and trying to create something that they could call their own. Much as what we had done. But I like tonal, as opposed to, atonal music. It all seemed about dissonance. Let's get to the dress. The "counter cultural" clothing that "we" embraced was part and parcel of our rejection of corporate morals and the Viet Nam War. Now, here comes punk. Let us mutilate ourselves by putting safety pins through our faces. To me that was saying "I don't hate you and your society. I hate myself so I will mutilate myself to show that I am not a part of you." Remember, I hang out in the Village, I still see these guys all the time. Krazy Glue for mousse. Mohawks 18" high. To me they were just trying to say "we are just as unique and unusual as YOUR generation was and we have staked a claim to our own look so that society will revile ours as they did yours". It seems that punk "the look" was a competitive cry for acknowledgement and validation. They only followed "our" roadmap going the same direction but landed in a different place. Back to the Music. Just because I didn't like it does not mean it did not affect American Music as a whole, or had no validity. It had a validity. It brought "your" generation together to shout your outrage, disapproval, and despair-in that: it had the great validity that music has presented since the early '50s (back further even: to the Blues). Did it change anything? IMHO Not really. It only added flavor to the pot. On the other hand, at least for right now (and I am almost ashamed to admit it) the music that came right before punk is the music of America, being played in it's movies, commercials, etc. Just an honest difference of opinion, Tom. Maybe I just "don't get it." But I can live with that, and punk is still pretty much dead. One of the legacies of punk is piercings. Speaking of which: I'm hanging out on St. Mark's Place last week on Friday night. These two guys come walking down the street. Both have, not studs but spikes (you know, long pointed studs) protruding out of their faces. They have a line of them extending from their brows right across their faces, and at several other places on their faces they have individual spikes. One of the two, I assume the more dominant of the two, has HORNS. YES, I SAID HORNS. Horns surgically (I imagine-because they were permanent) embedded at least into his skin. He did actually look like Satan, and he was wearing a cape. He wasn't a Goth, or anything else I have ever seen. He was dressed Punk. So I have to thank the punk people for giving me endless laughs, as I hang out in the Village. One other thing about the tartan wearing, weird mohawk, pierced people. They hang out in front of Munchies Donuts panhandling "so we can get something to eat." My opinion is if you choose to attire and accoutrement yourself in such a way that no one will give you a job: then I have no obligation to feed you. But if you try to get a gig and cant make it: I'll try to help. Having lived on the street I know what it's like to be hungry. You will do anything, and dress in any way to get a meal. If you think that that is selling out: sell your body to a medical institution for research, use the money for food, because they'll be claiming your undernourished ass soon. - Buddy Choose a year or click on Next 1970/ 1971/ 1972/ 1973/ 1974 1975/ 1976/ 1977/ 1978/ 1979 
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