'The music came across the airwaves and suddenly it felt as if the world was actually changing,' Keith Richards said in 2003:
Things went from black and white or grey to full Technicolor: no army, there's rock'n'roll music and as long as you've got a bit of bread you can buy anything, you don't need to queue. All of these things combined created a very strong thing in England for our generation. It was a breath of fresh air and a promise of real possibilities, instead of the prospect of simply following in our fathers' footsteps, which was pretty gloomy.
The following year Paul McCartney was asked about Philip Larkin's 'Annus Mirabilis'. 'I know the poem,' McCartney said:
For the Beatles and for anyone who was around at that time, life had been very much in black and white. For myself, I’d been to a particularly Dickensian school. When I look back on that school, I do see it all in monochrome. I remember winter in short trousers with the harsh wind whipping around my poor young frazzled knees. Looking back now, especially sitting here in the cool warmth of LA, it feels so deprived, like it was 6000 years ago. I just remember it being dark all the time back then. It was a postwar thing. Our parents had all had to join the army, as National Service had been compulsory. Growing up, we were all looking at that as a grim possibility. To say the least, it wasn’t the cheeriest of prospects unless you were an army type of guy. Which I wasn’t. Nor were the rest of the Beatles … Along with so many other things, that made life very black and white. But that was about to radically change.
The New Statesman recently interviewed Ray Davies, who's still an iconoclast: 'I think of the Sixties as black and white but the Fifties as colour,' he said. 'The country had a team spirit. It wasn’t all down. And the Technicolor imposed a colour sense. The Seventies were black and white, too. The Eighties were definitely bad colour.'