This is a document of nostalgia for sure, but one which points the way forward for the next generation of music fans and bands through showing them how they can grasp the neck of the past and point it towards the head of the future.
Though poverty and depression feature a great deal (as they are sure to do in a city with a story such as that of Liverpool), there is a great deal of humour in here, running through the whole piece, like a streak of lightning.
The Beatles are here but they are put well within context. They are framed by older musicians, such as former members of Gerry And The Pacemakers and other bands of the era, who give an insight into how the pre-war Jazz movement and then the seeping in of the blues, thanks to American imports sneaked back by sailors, infiltrated the musical DNA of Liverpool, giving local bands a base as well as influences to work from.
Spots on clubs such as Eric’s feature, telling us how the energy and venom of punk, as well as rising unemployment and a general social diaspora provoked another musical attack from bands as disparate as Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark, Big In Japan and Frankie Goes To Hollywood.
Would-be guitar heroes pummel their frustration and anger out in one corner, folkies and troubadours (hello John Squire) sing tales of romance and woe in the other. And in the middle, burning up the dance floor, we have the founders of superclub Cream.
Every diversion and form of Liverpool’s musical heritage is given an equal voice here, then, presenting an exhilarating and diverse picture of a city which, I am sure, will keep us in tunesmithery for many years to come.