Reeling from all the rivivals of Seventies

This time last century, those late Victorians were imbibing the last sweet juices of the "naughty Nineties". How will our present decade be remembered? As the "nonentity Nineties?" Just our luck.

Culturally, this has got to be the worst decade since the Eighties. And there's not a lot to choose between them.

Take music. In the Eighties our ears were clogged by the aural slime squeezed out of such tiny talents as Modern Romance, Ultravox and Duran Duran.

What have we got today? Dismal dance dirges, created by pasty nerds stapling original bits of music together with a computer mouse. A hundred and one boy bands, none of whose members would know what to do with either a musical instrument or a razor. And Flat Eric, a musical puppet, who looks set to eclipse 1977 chart stars the Muppets. Kermit must be green with envy.

Politically, things are less grotesque now than the Eighties. But even in Thatcher's day, politicians dared to speak their minds. If they criticised her she used their backbones as toothpicks, sure. But there was room for some political dissent.

It is hard to imagine a House of Commons being peopled by a more motley collection of inconsequential, bleeper-activated automatons than sit there today.

Like politics, modern fashion is about conformity. Who cares if grey or brown is the new black? They are the universe's three most tedious colours.

While cinema has improved considerably since the 1980s, television has definitely plummeted downhill. As the number of television channels increase, so the choice shrinks. Digital and satellite channels are grabbing advertising revenue from other broadcasters without the slightest intention of investing any of it into original programming.

These media parasites are serving up the same stuff to viewers - Morse, Only Fools and Horses and All Creatures Great and Small - that we consumed fresh in the terrestrial-only 1980s.

We are culturally bereft. How else can we explain the irrepressible urge to live in the 1970s? When the first Seventies revival happened, it was fun. Hey, dig those flares and outrageous hairstyles! Laugh? Well, we certainly chortled nostalgically.

But now we are having revivals of the first Seventies revival. Britain is stuck on a retro roundabout. Flares are back in yet again. The Wombles and Captain Pugwash are enjoying a children's TV renaissance. Germaine Greer's got a book out. Rising Damp is on Channel 4. Are You Being Served is on BBC1.

Last month ITV inflicted a "new" 1970s-based sitcom Days Like These on a feeble minded public. It made all the right references to those flares and outrageous hairstyles but made no references to humour. The Easter weekend schedule included a peak-time reminisce about the Bay City Rollers. A week earlier, Channel 4 had looked back at glam rock. Hey, remember those flares and outrageous hairstyles?

Meanwhile Abba fever has returned for the umpteenth time. Some of the current crop of plastic popsters, including B*Witched, Billie and Steps, performed a medley of the group's hits at the Brits which has now been released as a single.

In the midst of this ceaseless Seventies celebration, there has been a small attempt to start an Eighties revival. Martin Clunes and Neil Morrissey starred as faded new romantic pop stars in a television comedy drama last week. Echo and the Bunnymen are back with a new album. Two of The Smiths have joined with one of the Stone Roses to form a group.

But too few people want to remember the Eighties. Those who got rich quick don't care, and the rest of us had a miserable time.

So we are stuck with the 1970s, and not even the radical, punk Seventies, but the glittery, glib bit in the middle. In 20 years time the Nineties revival will be the Seventies revival revived. Heaven help us all.

05/04/99

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.