Nothing Will Come Of Nothing.
Nothing Will Come Of Nothing. Actually, it’s worse than that. Aurelien Towards the end of the 1970s, there was a movement in Britain called Punk, mostly expressed in music, but in some other forms of art as well. I never much cared for it, although it’s true that it was a useful corrective to the inane pomposities of Progressive Rock music earlier in the decade. But most commentators at the time correctly recognised that the quality of the music—often indifferent, at best—was less important than the power and authenticity of the anger and frustration that it articulated. Yet it must be hard today to understand where these emotions were coming from, in a society where unemployment, in modern terms, scarcely existed, where public services generally worked and where the country was still a major industrial power. Yet even before the reign of Thatcher began, the mood was one of sour anger and frustration. People demonstrated for the Right to Work, and Punk itself was often described ...
