Top of the Pops: 19th May, 1977.

Rod Stewart by Helge Øverås (Own work)
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The Olympic Torch may be wending its way through the streets of this land even as we speak but there's only one beacon to be seen lighting the boulevards of Nostalgia.

And that's this week's TOTP.

Will it burn bright - a symbol of hope for all mankind?

Or will it splutter and die like the dampest of squibs?

Only David “Kid” Jensen can tell us. For it is he who's to guide us through the flaming cul-de-sac that men call, “The Past.”

Straight away, we launch into Suzi Quatro and - inevitably for an opening song - a track that rings no bells with me whatsoever.

It's a performance that can only be labelled, "Relaxed."

But that seems inevitable. Like whatever that single was she was on doing a few weeks back, it's not the most grippingest of tracks. In fact, some might call it positively lukewarm. Suzi really did seem to be treading water at this stage of her career. Still, thanks to hindsight, we at least know better was to come.

The song seems to be called Roxy Roller and, as it finishes, Kid declares it to be, “exciting,” suggesting he's incredibly easily excited.

Now it's Heatwave and Too Hot to Handle.

It's the typical Heatwave performance, them in silly outfits doing a song that sounds like Heatwave.

Now it's time for The Moon And I, sung by Linda Lewis.

I always thought Linda Lewis was a porn star. Assuming she isn't, just who was I mixing her up with?

Three songs into the show, and this is the third track I've never heard of.

But what a sweet little thing she seems.

Was this really written by Gilbert and Sullivan? Why isn't it all short notes and silly words?

Whoever wrote it, in the hands of Linda it's all going a bit Minnie Riperton.

Still, whatever its unlikelihood, I find it strangely intriguing and have the desire to hear it again, if only to find out what I make of it second time round.

Now for the Bay City Rollers with It's a Game.

If this hadn't been on two weeks ago, it would've been tonight's fourth consecutive track I've never heard of.

One solitary audience member waves a scarf. I wonder if she was the only Bay City Rollers fan left in Britain at this stage?

Now it's Carole Bayer Sager and You're Moving Out.

At last, a track I recognise!

I may know the song but I'm not sure I've ever seen her before. On first viewing, it does strike me that she looks like Popeye's Olive Oyl.

Like Barbara Dickson all those weeks ago, while she's making a good go at it, she's somewhat hindered by the invisibility of her backing singers.

I remember seeing Lynda Carter doing a version of this somewhere. It wasn't a patch on Carole's version.

Then again, Carole Bayer Sager'd probably struggle with playing Wonder Woman – especially when it comes to finding her invisible plane.

Joe Tex is at it again.

And now Legs and Co are dancing to Disco Inferno.

You'd think this was a perfect track for them to dance to, as it gives them an excuse to just dance and not have to act out any kind of narrative.

The only problem is that, for no noticeable reason, Flick Colby's ordered hub caps be strapped to their every extremity, meaning that, instead of focusing on their dancing, all you can notice are flashing discs. Flick Colby, a woman who could be relied upon to achieve defeat no matter how much easier it'd be to achieve triumph.

“From the land of a thousand dancers,” declares Kid, it's the Jacksons.

Are there really only a thousand dancers in the United States?

That does seem an unlikely stat.

Actually in the studio, rather than on video, they're doing Let Me Show You. I must admit it's not one of my favourite Jackson tracks, feeling oddly leaden compared to others of that vintage.

Michael seems to be the tallest of the Jacksons, which can't be right, can it?

To be honest, Michael's starting to get on my nerves now, with his random exclamations.

But at last it's the moment we've all been waiting for. Entire musical epochs collapse before our eyes as punk finally hits TOTP, with the debut of the Jam. Admittedly, you could argue the Jam weren't really punk but it's as close as we've got thus far on the show.

Paul seems a little angry. Bruce seems a little angry. It's a contrast from the Jacksons, that's for sure.

And an even bigger contrast is with Rod Stewart who's hit the heady heights of Number 1 with The First Cut is the Deepest.

He's on the TOTP jumbotron. I thought it'd long-since been retired due to the audience's disheartening tendency to stand with their backs to it.

It's that performance from last week.

He's waving his bum again.

As the show draws to a close, Kid signs off by wishing us, “Good love.” Heaven alone knows where he got that one from.

We play out with Boz Scaggs' Lido Shuffle.

This is my favourite Boz Scaggs song, by a mile. It sounds like Rick Davies' efforts for Supertramp. Given that Davies was always overshadowed by Roger Hodgson, that might not seem a good thing but Boz clearly knew how to make that sound work.

So, it was a night when musical differences were stretched almost to breaking point. What other music show could ever have dared give us Gilbert and Sullivan and the Jam in the same broadcast?

But that was the greatness of TOTP. While the BBC's other great 1970s music show The Old Grey Whistle Test had to crunch gears furiously to adjust to the arrival of the "new" music, TOTP's great amoeboid mass simply absorbed and accommodated any sound the charts could throw at it, before rolling on unperturbed.

Top of the Pops:17th Feb, 1977

By AVRO (Beeld En Geluid Wiki - Gallerie: Toppop 1974)
[CC-BY-SA-3.0], via Wikimedia Commons
Sadly this is not how Leo was dressed on tonight's show.

Here's where I put this all to the test by giving my running commentary on last week's episode. I still haven't seen it yet but have no doubt it'll be a full-on descent into the non-stop Donna Summer, punk rock and Star Wars I remember 1977 being.

It's being introduced by someone I don't recognise. Whoever he is, he seems happy to be there.

They're kicking off with the chart run-down but I'm refusing to watch it, so it doesn't spoil the surprise of what's number 1. It's probably Adele or One Direction or The Wanted like it usually is.

There's no introduction for the first act but my cutting-edge knowledge of modern music tells me it's Suzi Quatro.

She's still got the leather.

She's still got the bass.

Sadly she's not got the song.

Whatever it is, it's not a patch on her early 70s' stuff.

Now she's got her foot up on the piano, trying to pretend it's unfettered visceral Rock and Roll she's doling out but, frankly, like a failed souffle, it's sagging badly.

Is she singing, "Tear me apart if you want to win my heart?" What kind of sentiment is that for a young woman to be expressing?

The anonymous presenter's back.

It's The Moments, with a song that might be called Jack in the Box. Unlike the Suzi track, I remember this from when it was first out. I've always had an affection for it even though I can't think of a single good reason why.

It's all starting to lose its way a bit. They're just stood there going, "Doodle doodle do," which is rarely a good sign in a song.

Now we've been introduced to someone called The Brothers. I must confess to having no memory at all of this, a sort of pop-reggae thing. Still, the drummer has a cuddly toy on his drum kit, so they at least have something going for them.

It's Boz Scaggs and his cast of thousands. I've always been slightly non-plussed by Boz Scaggs. I only know three songs by him and none of them sound like they were done by the same act as the others. Still, with the size of his band at least he was making a huge contribution to keeping America's unemployment figures down.

That really is a phenomenally large band and it seems to be getting bigger with every shot. At this rate of expansion, I just hope he gets through the song before it becomes physically impossible for the world to produce enough food to feed them all.

The mystery presenter's introducing Thelma Houston who may or may not be related to Whitney and therefore may or may not be in a bad place right now.

But this is way better than the Communards' version. Her chest, however, does seem to be out of all control.

It's the Rubettes but it's not the Rubettes as I remember them. I remember them being like a CinemaScope version of Mud, with wide-screen harmonies and epic production. This is some dull country song being sung by a bloke vaguely like Roy Orbison. And there's not a giant hat in sight.

Is this actually the same Rubettes or is it a different group with the same name? If it is a different group I prefer the proper Rubettes.

It really is dragging on for what seems like hours. Even a rather nice guitar solo can't save it.

Mr Big are the highest climber on the charts. I'm assuming it's not the Mr Big who did To Be With You or whatever it was called.

I've not heard this for decades. I seem to remember liking it at the time, though now it sounds ludicrous, with ridiculously overwrought lyrics. And just what does, "Step back inside me, Romeo," actually mean?

It's got a harmonica. That's good - even if it doesn't fit in at all with the mood of the rest of the track.

There's plenty of bare chests on show.

They're doing the Bohemian Rhapsody thing with all the band's heads all on screen at the same time. But, like fools, they've forgotten to up-light themselves. Personally, I make a note of always being up-lit. It's the only way I can preserve the air of mystery that so fascinates the internet.

Legs and Co are dancing to the sounds of Tavares. Lots of tambourine action.

It's not what you'd all classy but at least they're not "interpreting" the song, like they usually try to.

It does strike me that 1977 seemed to be a big year for random key changes. It seems like most of the songs so far have been flinging them in like they were handed out for free at the studio door.

Leo Sayer's at number 1.

I must admit to having a soft spot for Leo.

Well, when I say a soft spot, I mean a soft spot for I Won't Let The Show Go On, One Man Band and this one - When I Need You. It's easy to knock Leo for the hair and the jumpers and the name but you can't argue with a catchy tune.

You did always get the feeling that if Leo Sayer was made of chocolate he'd eat himself. But then, if I were made of chocolate, I'd eat myself. Except for my hands of course. I'd need those to use my keyboard.

Then again the heat from my keyboard'd probably melt my hands.

So that's what I've learned from this week's Top of the Pops. If you're made of chocolate you might as well eat your hands. Never let it be said TV can't be educational.

There's a girl staring at the mystery presenter, with her jaw clenched, as though she's offering him out. Like the true pro he is, he's ignoring her and concentrating on the camera. He's too busy introducing Earth, Wind and Fire to get into a punch-up with a schoolgirl.

Looking at the credits, it seems the mystery presenter was Paul Burnett. How strange. I used to listen to his show for all those years on Radio 1 but had no idea till now what he looked like.

Overall it wasn't a great show. There were no great signs of a wind of change sweeping through popular music. But my main disappointment was that Ken Morse wasn't the rostrum cameraman. I thought it was compulsory for Ken Morse to be rostrum cameraman on every TV show ever made in the past.

Still, I've learned many things from today's show. I've learned to always wear a bra on TV if you're a big girl and that it's OK to eat your own hands. I do feel such wisdom gained makes it a venture worthwhile.