The Coffee Bar
Gaggia machines arrived from Italy and gave British teenagers the first indoor space that was theirs.
Category
Formats, charts, taped-off-the-radio compilations and the Sunday afternoon countdown.
19 thingsGaggia machines arrived from Italy and gave British teenagers the first indoor space that was theirs.
Portable, two-tone, with an autochanger that stacked eight singles and dropped them one at a time onto the turntable.
Pocket sized, leather cased, powered by a PP3 battery, and held against one ear at low volume after lights out.
British 45s came with a removable centre for jukeboxes, and everyone had a drawer full of the little plastic bits.
A ship anchored in international waters playing records all day, listened to under the bedclothes on a transistor radio.
The chart show that decided what was in your ears for the following seven days, whether you liked it or not.
Granada recreated a working men's club in a studio: singers, comics, a gavel and a bar.
Sunday evening, Radio 1, a C90 in the deck, and a lifetime of recordings with the last two seconds of the DJ on them.
A cassette player with headphones and no speaker, which sounded absurd until everybody had one.
A character from Noel's House Party who became a genuine Christmas number one and then a theme park.
A portable CD player that skipped if you walked, ran on batteries for two hours, and was carried perfectly flat like a waiter.
Rewritable, skip-proof, and you could name every track. Sony's finest format and a commercial disappointment.
PC magazines with a CD or two taped to the front, full of game demos, utilities and one very large free ISP installer.
Nero Burning ROM, a stack of CD-Rs, and a compilation handed over in a paper sleeve with the tracklist on the disc.
Peer-to-peer file sharing, where the file you wanted was 40% likely to be something else entirely.
Apple's music player, and the click wheel that made scrolling through 5,000 songs genuinely pleasant.
Subscription ringtone services advertised relentlessly, which signed up a generation to charges they could not cancel.
The sixth-generation Nano dropped the click wheel for a touchscreen the size of a postage stamp, and people wore it as a watch.
HMV went into administration in 2013, closing dozens of stores, and became the last mainstream place to buy a physical album.
Or browse by decade