It’s the weekend again and already I’m feeling waves of nostalgia for last Sunday.  I was going out and it was yet another hot sunny day so I’d chosen a long lime-green dress and chunky-heeled sandals. Nothing wrong with that but when I arrived at my destination — Rewind, an 80s music festival on the banks of the Thames near Henley — I felt considerably underdressed as it was obvious that most of the 15,000-strong crowd had made a lot more effort than me. 

There were the post-punks and preppy pop tribes reliving their youth in tartan skirts and blazers; some frilly-shirted New Romantics, and no end of imaginative, silly outfits. Who wouldn’t smile on coming across a herd of My Little Ponies, a pair of T. Rex dinosaurs, and a shiny-cheeked ‘archbishop’ ambling along bestowing blessings on the crowd. He was accompanied by an exceptionally tall, hairy-legged man in a nun’s habit. As I tagged along behind them on my way to get a coffee, I heard the Northern Irish punk band The Undertones getting going on stage and inevitably, it wasn’t long before the familiar chords of ‘Teenage Kicks’ were blasting across the site*. This track was so beloved by John Peel that he cried when he first heard it, then played it twice in succession on his iconic radio show. He even requested that the opening lyrics be engraved on his gravestone. And they were. In a peaceful churchyard at Great Finborough in Suffolk is a polished Welsh slate headstone with the words ‘In loving memory of John R.P. Ravenscroft, ‘John Peel’, 1939 – 2004. Teenage Dreams, So Hard to Beat.’

I was just out of my own teenage years when the 80s started, and until recently if you’d asked me what my music era was, I would have said ‘the 70s of course,’ because that was when I bought my first records and was glued to the charts every week. There’s much I cherish from that decade – Dark Side of the Moon will probably always be my favourite album – but in the last few years I’ve realised it’s the sounds of the 80s that fill me with an aching nostalgia, and I’ve found that perplexing. 

The air was certainly thick with nostalgia last Sunday afternoon when Tony Hadley came on stage. The singer from Spandau Ballet — once so jaw-droppingly handsome – is now a bit heavier and just a little creaky (aren’t we all) but his voice is still strong and distinctive. It must get tedious to belt out the same much-loved hits again and again but he had a great rapport with the audience and is a generous performer. He left it to the end to reward us with ‘True’ and then ‘Gold’ — I think the crowd might have stormed the stage if he hadn’t. And as I listened to those tracks that transport me back to the 80s like nothing else, I was ridiculously happy but still with that puzzling feeling of sadness that accompanies nostalgia.  

I was happy too when Tom Robinson took to the stage. I last saw him live when I was at university so I took a photo of him standing in front of the iconic clenched fist logo of The Tom Robinson Band, and sent it to my family WhatsApp group. A younger member of the family replied sounding confused. ‘Why are you listening to Tommy Robinson?’ she asked. I’d never made that connection but as a lifelong left-wing, socialist, and LGBTQ+ rights activist, that kind of confusion must be more than a little irritating to the real Tom Robinson. 

Toyah and Nik Kershaw were also entertaining. Toyah, small as she is, filled the stage. Her modified mohican stayed rigid as she belted out ‘It’s a Mystery.’ ‘You can join in if you have a lisp,’ she said — the crowd laughed and everyone sang anyway. She bounced and spun with the energy of someone a third her age. No-one would guess that she was born with a twisted spine, clubbed feet, no hip sockets and the highly-arched palate that accounts for her trademark speech impediment. I was never a particular Nik Kershaw fan but he’s a good performer and I was happy to hear some of his most famous songs again — ‘I Won’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me’ and ‘Wouldn’t It Be Good.’ 

The music was joyful, the crazy outfits made me laugh, everyone was good-humoured and it was a sunny day. I loved it, so what was the ache about? Was I wishing I was young again? I don’t think so as like most of us at that age, I was awash with uncertainties about who I was and what I wanted from life. All of which is very unsettling and feels a huge deal when you’re going through it. I’m much happier now than then and I don’t want to go back. So what on earth is it that’s so alluring? 

Maybe it’s because when you’re in your early twenties it’s possible to believe that anything can happen. All paths are potentially still open. Adult life is yet to come. But now that most of the story is written, I know what happened — family, marriage, work and everything else. There were undoubtedly drawbacks to being young, but it is nonetheless delicious to revisit occasionally to feel once again, something of that possibility and innocence. 

And it seems it’s not just about sentimentality as psychology studies have found that if you ask people to recall their most vivid personal memories, they will come up with those from their teenage years and early-twenties, to a disproportionate degree. I know that once my time and energy was dominated by sleepless babies, toddler tantrums and school runs there was less opportunity to listen to music but the research does suggest that the memories coinciding with first experiences like independence, working and falling in love are encoded in the brain more strongly than those at later stages. This has been termed the reminiscence bump and music is a powerful and safe way to reconnect with those memories of how it felt to not know what would happen. I remember it as both intensely exciting and anxiety-inducing. 

Knowing how things did turn out can bring its own rewards. I for one feel much calmer than I did when I was younger and always wondering which path to take next. But there is also a poignancy in knowing that all those potential selves did not get to draw breath. I’m content with the path that unfolded but it’s human to have pangs of loss for those where the gate was closed or I chose not to open it. Gratitude and grief can and do, exist side by side. 

For now it’s back to the current stage of life and I’m busy with research for my next book, which touches on these themes and requires a number of trips to London to explore old haunts and satisfy my curiosity about new ones. More on that another day. Meanwhile, I’ll be keeping an eye on the dates for next year’s Rewind Festival. Those 80s kicks are indeed so very hard to beat. 

* Sharp-eyed music geeks (you know who you are) will no doubt spot that Teenage Kicks was released in 1978. But since The Undertones were still active in the early 80s I’m happy to let that go…

Photos: Mike Poppleton