THE 1976 REPORT

Hey, fans.. .you gave us the message; scrawled in yellow crayon on that funky toilet paper: little pieces of your souls winging our way like baby moths to a flame. Transmission received: our mail robots have digested the material and it does compute. To wit: Aerosmith and Kiss are still the drugs of favor—musical that is; you still haven't made up your mind whether Elton is an asshole or the greatest AC/DC songwriter in the world; Boston is the best thing to come down the pike so far this year;

and WELL ALL RIGHT: Patti Smith moved from third best female singer to second: next year you'll get it right. Indeed, despite the usual barrage of Kiss/Zep/Aerosmith/Who winners, your little noses were once again responsive * to the avante-garde ephemera wafting through old

f '76's breathing space.

Like it or not, punk rock—whether of the New York v black-leather-and-classical-simplicity type or the

English S & M self-mutilation school—was the trend of the year. Next year—with perhaps a blending of the two movements?—should reveal whether all of this roots exploring > has refreshed rock ’n' roll, or whether it

was all so much musty air let out of

Hold on tight and stay tuned; we predict it'll be interesting, and you'll be able to decipher our rqvingson Wk the current and good (not the same)

right here every month. But take note: this is the last year that votes for Rex Reed as Critic Of The Year will be accepted—it ain't funny