Keith Harrison: Making a mixtape – now that's what I call reel love

Three guys who never let me down in the 80s. Coupled with a good pause button and a tape-to-tape ghetto blaster, that holy trinity always guaranteed I'd be up in my bedroom, reaching for a pack of three (cassettes, people, cassettes!).

Ahhh, the joys of the mixtape.

Don't get me wrong; I could change like the wind, depending on the girl in question.

Phil, Barry and Eric could easily become Ozzy, Freddie and Lemmy for the right double-denimmed lady.

And it worked. Boy, did it work.

In the days before Facebook, Instagram, Twitter etc, there was nowhere to post a 'bio' or let people know your favourite, film, colour, shoe size, etc.

I genuinely once turned up to a teenage disco armed with four different tapes, all with handwritten Biro titles, to be distributed to four 'lucky' young ladies depending on their image.

Miss Cutesy-Ditzy got Altered Images, Cyndi Lauper and, to seal the deal, Hazel O'Connor's Will You?.

Subtlety was not my strong point. Mixtapes were.

That's why Miss Goth-Chick-in-the-corner got Alien Sex Fiend, Sex Gang Children and, errr, Hazel O'Connor's Will You?

The modette landed My Girl by Madness, but she was mad at me for adding Lip Up Fatty (a joke she didn't get) and UB40's One-in-10 (how she rated my chances after such bad manners).

Finally, the clincher, if all else had failed by the time the slowies came on at half past 10, the EMERGENCY TAPE (although I didn't put that in Biro).

My sensitive side; Waiting for a Girl Like You (at that time of night, 'twas the truth), Careless Whisper (goes without saying) and Soft Cell's Say Hello, Wave Goodbye.

That one never worked – when I said hello, they usually said goodbye.

Thankfully, that particularly desperate TDK rarely came into play as the evening's chosen girls would gather round each other, puzzling over obscure tracks by 'cool' bands such as the Psychedelic Furs, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark and The Teardrop Explodes.

(Yeah, that's right; the 80s – when bands had proper names.)

The ensuing looks of admiration/disdain normally told me whether I should go over and ask for her number – or, more likely . . . try to get the tape back.

I was reminded of all this teenage tomfoolery this week when asked to come up with my 'all time top 10' for elsewhere in today's Weekend.

Not an easy task, I can tell you.

I agonised. I changed. I ummed and ahhed.

But most of all, I got nostalgic (yes, again) for simpler times.

I know I'm turning into an alternative Alf Garnett but I feel sorry for kids today.

They've got technology coming out of their eyeballs, but for all this 'social' media, there's something very hollow about the way they socialise.

And disturbing, to tell the truth.

My lad recently brought home a letter from school urging parents to beware their children sending explicit selfies on their mobile phones.

This was official advice and apparently girls in particular, are being pressured to do this by boys their own age.

This possibly stems from the fact that inquisitive young lads can access hard core internet porn at the touch of a button, which I'm sure they do.

Dangerously, this is undoubtedly affecting their expectations of girls in a negative and worrying way.

The days of furtively sneaking a glimpse at the top-shelf jazz mags are long gone, I'm afraid, let alone having the guts to reach for one and have a quick flick through.

Kids don't need to suffer that embarrassment. They just log on and, well, there it is.

They Snapchat, they Dubsmash, they dispose with possible partners with the dismissive swipe of a screen – even in their early teens.

It's not just wrong. It's sad. And I fear for the relationships they will form.

Sending a girl a suggested playlist on iTunes is hardly the romantic gesture to get her pulse racing.

Sending her a Maxell C90 cunningly titled Unknown Pleasures probably is, even now.

Especially if you include a cassette player and a pencil, just in case it needs spooling.

Now . . . that's romance.