Johnny Sharp

It has been suggested that bands are a dying breed in the modern age. As technology enables individuals to create fuller tapestries of music than ever before without the need to recruit a drummer on the basis of whether or not they own a van, or stick with an annoying keyboard player because his dad lets you use his warehouse for rehearsals, the incentive to go it alone is strong. The costs of touring with five or six people in tow is also pretty prohibitive, and it's a more complicated proposition in the studio. Meanwhile, the relative marginalisation of hard rock and indie pop - genres that traditionally rely on the guitar-bass-drums-vocals formula - hasn't helped.

If women face all-too-familiar obstacles to achieving success in music these days, many of those barriers have at least been broken down over the years by trailblazing female artists. One such pioneering act is undoubtedly The Go-Go's, who burst out of the Los Angeles punk scene in the late 1970s and set a template for pop punk that still endures.

Like a lot of bright, shiny things, ABC and their defining debut album, The Lexicon Of Love, were created out of something a good deal less glamorous. The grim-up-north narrative that is wheeled out as a backdrop to so much provincial punk and post-punk can be overstated, but there’s no doubt that when Stephen Singleton and Mark White’s avant-garde electronic outfit Vice Versa morphed into ABC with help from former fanzine writer turned frontman Martin Fry, they wanted to offer an escapist vision of pop for trying, recessionary times. They also rejected old school approaches to music-making.

For much of the '70s it was customary for bands or recording artists to retire to a rural bolthole for a spell, hoping the country air would help them get their head together. Disillusioned and burnt out from recording and touring, in 1976 John Martyn tried this himself. But in his case the destination was another country, halfway across the world.