The Beatles were already on the brink of going their separate ways by the time I caught up with them. My parents would grudgingly allow that they (especially that nice Paul McCartney) could write some decent tunes, but they assured me that ever since Brian Epstein's demise they had been corrupted by dark forces (i.e. drugs) and headed in the direction of the Rolling Stones, who my mother considered "dirty". As in unwashed, I think, but my father tutted at the cover of "Sticky Fingers" so perhaps it went deeper than that.
Point is, The Beatles, and pre-Pepper Beatles at that, were hardly the epitome of cool or where it was at, come 1971. I listened to the radio a bit. Ed "Stewpot" Stewart on Junior Choice at the weekends for the most part, if I'm honest. I watched the Saturday night variety shows hosted by Cilla, Lulu, Rolf et al, who would occasionally present credible musicians alongside the sanitised banality of The Young Generation, a dance troupe who proved how "down with the kids" the Beeb really was. But really I was clueless about what else there was beyond the Fab Four and I think I stayed quite naive until the summer of 1972.
Still, it wasn't all that grim! Hawkwind's only chart hit, "Silver Machine" went quite well with my drugged up state, and Alice Cooper's "School's Out" held sway throughout August. I developed a deep loathing of "Sylvia's Mother" by Dr Hook & The Medicine Show, while the novelty of Hot Butter's synth instrumental "Popcorn" soon wore off. The less said about Donny Osmond's relationship with his puppy, the better.