When I was born, I could dance

But all of this could well be construed as warming up for the song, the record, in which they made the quantum leap into greatness. How many times have you heard it? Thousands, probably – usually at drunken Xmas parties or wedding receptions. And how many times have you listened to it – not just sung along with it, but listened to it as a pop record? It arguably outdoes “Anarchy In The UK” as the most radical and influential pop record of 1976; it may well be the first pop record to shake off completely any evidence of American influence (and ironically it was the only Abba record to become a really major hit in the USA), to sound wholly and indisputably European (even Kraftwerk’s “Autobahn” acknowledged its considerable debt to the Beach Boys), to sound completely futuristic and warm at the same time (the two are not frequent partners in pop), to sound machine-made yet unutterably human in its ecstasy: “YOU can dance! YOU can dance! Having the time of your life!” A decade before Madonna updated the sentiment for “Into The Groove,” it differs from all other love songs in that it’s a love song to yourself; you are free to be your own idol. You want to talk about dancing about architecture? It sounds as though that’s exactly what the song’s progenitor is doing; against mammoth arches, in front of the Brandenburg Gate, or the Great Gate of Kiev. It flooded, reluctantly acknowledged, if acknowledged at all, into post-punk, and more fully acknowledged into ‘80s New Pop, electro and everything which came afterwards. Simple Minds’ “Glittering Prize” is an act of worship to the subject of this song, so instinctively known, so deeply inscribed in everyone’s bones, that I don’t even need to tell you its name.