When I first arrived in England I was overwhelmed by the music scene in the UK, writes columnist Andy Winter. I had been brought up in 1970s South Africa where the edgiest music to be heard on the apartheid-controlled Springbok Radio included the Bee Gees and Olivia Newton-John. On the pirate LM Radio, broadcast on the crackling shortwave band from neighbouring Mozambique, we could listen to The Beatles who were banned from South African airwaves after John said they were more popular than Jesus and that the Christian faith was declining to the extent that it might be outlasted by rock music.

There were some bootleg albums that did the rounds including the music of Rodriguez, an American of Mexican origins who was, at the time, big among young, liberal white South Africans but virtually unknown elsewhere, not least in the USA. A story of his life, Searching For Sugarman, won an Oscar and a Bafta. Rodriguez sadly died last August.

A few days after I arrived in the UK, I saw Top Of The Pops for the first time. It was eye-opening and jaw-dropping for this music innocent, featuring that week Elvis Costello and The Attractions (Oliver’s Army), Blondie (Heart Of Glass) and Meat Loaf (Bat Out Of Hell). New Wave music had yet to reach South Africa and I was blown away by what I saw and heard. Two tone, reggae and ska appealed to me. This was the music of the anti-racist and anti-fascist movements, of the Anti-Nazi League. My first political activity after arriving in the UK was to go on a counter demonstration outside Fairlight School off Lewes Road against the neo-nazi National Front which was trying to hold an election rally in the run up to the 1979 General Election.

In Brighton there were any number of “alternative” bands. They rehearsed in the vaults of the old Resource Centre at the top of North Road and performed at The Richmond Hotel, The Marlborough, Alhambra, Sussex University and Brighton Polytechnic. Even today I can recall names like Birds With Ears, The Piranhas, Dick Damage And The Dilemma, Nicky And The Dots, Peter And The Test Tube Babies and Pookiesnackenburger. There was even a Christian punk group, Rev Counter And The Speedometers, led by an ordained minister (Rev Counter – get it?) but I don’t think they ever graced The Richmond or the Basement at the Poly. The Piranhas were probably the best-known group with their version of Tom Hark which is still played regularly at sporting events here in England. Meanwhile, Luke Cresswell and Steve McNicholas from Pookiesnackenburger went on to set up Stomp which has performed to worldwide audiences including at the Oscars. On a more parochial front, there was once some graffiti that read: “Dick Damage reads The Argus”.

But of all these bands, my favourite was a lesbian punk rock group, the Devil’s Dykes that morphed into the Bright Girls and later Siren. As far as I am aware, Siren is the only group from that era that still performs. Its members are a little bit older and perhaps a tad greyer but they are probably now better musicians. Their politics is still as radical, focusing on women’s rights, lesbianism, peace and, most recently, the climate crisis. It may seem strange that I frequented their gigs, me being a straight man, but I am biased towards Siren because my sister and her partner are still members of the band. Last year they released their latest album, Under The Bridge, and a documentary was made, Bending the Note - the Story of Siren, as pioneering women, musicians and lesbians.

I imagine many people look back with fondness at the cultural experiences of their youth, be it rock and roll, the mods and rockers, punk, new wave, reggae or ska. Even disco from the Seventies, my era, brings back happy memories of evenings spent at the Shalom Centre in Cape Town, even if the fashion of the day left something to be desired. Sadly something was lost, in my opinion, with the advent of acid house, garage, hip hop and grime. I know that I have an eclectic, more conservative taste in music, but I doubt that there will be much of a revival of some of that music which, even in its heyday, was nothing to write home about.

So I will be off now to spin Showaddywaddy’s Greatest Hits LP on the gramophone.

Andy Winter is a former councillor who worked in social care and homelessness services for 40 years