This is about the New Romantics, the Futurists, of the early 80s and their immediate descendants.

When the New Romantics arrived in Jerusalem, the bittersweet notes of All of My Heart were tumbling from the rooftops, cast by the hand of Trevor Horn.

Over the next few years they were to produce the most perfect pop the world has ever seen and make it sound effortless. They embraced electronic drums and Yamaha synths but the bottom line was the songs.

They looked outrageous, they courted ridicule, and they took over the charts.

They were the last wave of bands to conquer America.

The party lasted til 1987, starbursting in trails as different as Wham's espadrille-driven slap-bass middle 8 and Linx's latin oildrums. Then Stock, Aitken and Waterman began to bury the song in the production, and businessmen were back in charge of music. Pop became increasingly manufactured for quick profit and lowest common denominatored for Europe-wide appeal. It has been busy eating itself ever since.