At the height of their popularity in 1979, British punk band the Clash released London Calling, a 19-track opus spread over two LPs that signalled the maturing of the punk movement. And while thousands of spiky-haired, safety pin wearing anarchists cried foul over what they believed was the defection of Britain’s greatest punk outfit, time has proven London Calling to not only be one of punk’s greatest albums, but one of the greatest records of all time.

What was unique about London Calling is that for a punk album, the amount of pure punk music was staggeringly small. Front man Joe Strummer had outgrown the three-chord, distorted amplification it had become synonymous for, and he wanted a change.

So, Strummer took what he believed was at the core of the punk movement – the message – and applied it to an astonishingly wide variety of music. The songs on London Calling are as varied as any album: hints of ska, pop, soul, rockabilly, and even reggae music can be heard through the album. And despite the protests of ‘true’ punk rockers, the Clash maintained – and even expanded upon – the anti-authority, blue collar mentality that they were recognised for.

Despite the mixed emotions from the punk movement, London Calling was a hit from its initial release. The album landed in the top ten charts in the band’s native United Kingdom, and the opening single ‘London Calling’ reached the top twenty. Only one punk album – the Sex Pistols ‘Never Mind the Bollocks’ has reached higher heights than London Calling, and they only had one album to begin with.

The reviews for the classic album have never dimmed, either: in 1987, the album reached number 14 on Rolling Stone’s ‘100 Best Albums of the Last Twenty Years’. They also ranked London Calling at number one on its 1989 list of the ‘100 Best Albums of the Eighties’ – an impressive feat considering the album was actually released in 1979.

Indeed, it’s hard to find faults in what may be the best punk record of all time. Even the cover – featuring bass player Paul Simonen wielding his guitar like some form of brutal battle axe – has been praised by Q Magazine as the greatest rock and roll photo of all time, with the magazine stating that it ‘captures the ultimate rock’n’roll moment – total loss of control’.

Ultimately, there’s nothing about this album that doesn’t scream cool – in a refined, yet completely anarchistic manner. While the music may not have the raw energy of its predecessors, what it lacks in anarchism it makes up for in class, substance, and vindication.

For decades, people have viewed the Clash as a band who apologised to no one, and who made every decision themselves. And at the end of the day, when the dust has settled and the critics have all moved on, London Calling stands as a testament to a band who knew what they were doing, even when no one else did.

Now that’s cool.

The Velvet Underground might just be the most influential band you’ve never heard of.

Unlike bands like the Beatles or the Rolling Stones, the Velvet Underground never achieved commercial or financial success during their time together, even with the help of the massively popular Andy Warhol as their producer.

But time, not popularity, is what defines art – and it should come as no surprise that critics and musicians from all walks of life cite the Velvet Underground as one of the most important and influential bands to come out of the 1960’s.

The seeds for the band were formed in 1964, when singer/guitarist Lou Reed met John Cale, a Welshman who had moved to the United States to study classical music.

Both men had a meticulous curiosity in creating experimental sounds through pop music, a trait that would help define the low, droning guitar noise that became synonymous with the New York outfit.

The Velvet Underground’s credibility within the avant-garde art world grew sharply when Andy Warhol expressed an interest in the band. Warhol was at the peak of his popularity, and helped the band gain a record deal with him as nominal ‘producer’.

Perhaps more incredible is that Verve Records, who gave the Velvet Underground their deal, allowed the band to have free reign over the sound they created – an astonishing feat considering the nature of the Velvet Underground’s music at the time.

During their time with Andy Warhol, the band became part of his multimedia roadshow, Exploding Plastic Inevitable, which travelled throughout the United States and Canada, further raising the band’s profile.

In 1967, under Andy Warhol’s watchful eye, the Velvet Underground released their first album, The Velvet Underground and Nico. Although it was largely ignored at the time of it’s release, the record has since become one of the most influential and critically acclaimed albums in history, appearing at number thirteen on Rolling Stone’s 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.

While the Velvet Underground produced two more albums after ‘The Velvet Underground and Nico’, they never achieved commercial success before tensions between Cale and Reed tore the original lineup apart. But, like all great art, it found its way into the collective unconscious, and today the Velvet Underground is revered and loved by millions of people worldwide.

Perhaps the reason they are so popular now has something to do with the fact that they never reached the stratospheric heights of the contemporaries the Rolling Stones and the Beatles. To many music and art fans, the Velvet Underground are as mysterious as their name implies: straddling the line between the known and unknown, the band act almost like a secret handshake between people who know anything about music, about art, and about the New York scene. If you know about the Velvet Underground, or you’ve seen the classic banana sleeve cover, chances are you’re a pretty cool person. And if you didn’t before, you do now.

You’d be hard-pressed to find a pair of sunglasses more influential than Ray Bans’ Wayfarers.

Originally manufactured in 1952, the Wayfarers were seen as a ‘mid-century classic’ – a design as iconic as the Eames chair, or the Cadillac tailfin.

However, revolutionary design isn’t enough: for something to be truly iconic, it must first have the approval of established icons. So, when pictures of Hollywood starlets Kim Novac and Marilyn Monroe wearing Wayfarer sunglasses popped up across America, people started to pay attention. But it would be Audrey Hepburn who took what could have been a passing fad, and turned it into a statement of style that would last half a century.

It was the opening few minutes of Breakfast at Tiffany’s that sold the Wayfarer to the world. We watch as Hepburn, in her memorable turn as Holly Golightly, saunters through uptown New York City. She is effortlessly beautiful, her black cocktail dress and gorgeous jewellery worn as casually as most wear a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

When Hepburn stops and looks into the window of Tiffany & Co., her tiara resting above a pair of jet black Wayfarers, we were sold. Wayfarers were no longer a trend – they were now an icon.

Through the next two decades, the Ray Bans’ Wayfarers would become the accessory of choice for the world’s finest artists, musicians, and personalities: Andy Warhol wore them; so did John Lennon. Bob Dylan rarely took his Wayfarers off. Even the President of the United States, John F. Kennedy, owned a pair. The Wayfarer juggernaut seemed unstoppable – the world couldn’t get enough.

But although the classics may endure, they don’t always thrive. And so it was that the 1970’s saw a decline of the Wayfarer’s sales, almost to the point of the Wayfarer’s discontinuation.

This all changed in 1982, when Ray-Ban signed a $50,000 a year deal with a company called Unique Product Placement, in an effort to place Ray-Bans in movies and television shows once more. The Wayfarer had achieved its cult status thanks to the efforts of Hollywood stars – if there was a chance of a Wayfarer revival, this was the way to do it.

The 1983 Risky Business was the start of the Wayfarer comeback: 360,000 pairs of Wayfarers were bought that year. Everyone wanted to look like Tom Cruise.

More product placement followed. The Breakfast Club. Miami Vice. Moonlighting. Soon  sales had reached 1.5 million, and were being worn by stars like Jack Nicholson and Madonna. The Wayfarer reigned supreme again.

Despite a decline during the 1990’s, 2000 saw the Wayfarer return to the public conscious, repackaged with the original idea behind the Wayfarers back: they were edgy; they were cool.

Cool is such a relative term. Twelve years ago, I watched Vanilla Ice roll through a pastel-chalk street in a Felix the Cat sweater. That guy was cool.

Two years ago, it was cool to have a parted fringe. Right now, it’s cool to like vampires. I have no idea what will be cool tomorrow.

What I do know, though, is that what is classic will remain classic. Wayfarers are an example of something classic. They’re an icon; they’ve been worn by some of the most influential people of the last 50 years. They may not always be in vogue, but they will always be cool.