The Desperate Bicycles are the quintessential example of punk’s DIY ethos, in which anyone could go out and form a band.

Back in the early days you could go to a gig and the guys pogoing next to you would be up there a week later. Then they’d make a record and put it out themselves.

Some of us did the same thing by creating a fanzine – mine was called Cliché – writing it ourselves, printing it ourselves (on the Harlow Tech photocopier) and taking it to places like Rough Trade where they would sell like hot cakes as the ‘movement’ grew.

In the same spirit, The Desperate Bicycles got together in March 1977 for the express purpose of recording and releasing a single on their own label. It cost them £153 to hire a a studio, press 500 singles and make the sleeves with that iconic picture of a bicycle wheel.

Despite owning only one amp and a bass guitar, they booked a Dalston for three hours and borrowed the rest of the equipment. At the end of the session they had two songs, Smokescreen and Handlebars, and in April they took their 500 copies to record shops themselves.

They quickly sold out, earning them a profit of £210, which they immediately reinvested in 1,000 more copies. The proceeds from those (which also sold out) financed the next single, released three months later – and the process inspired the lyrics, urging listeners to follow in their footsteps.

“If you can understand, go and join a band – it was easy, it was cheap, go and do it!” they sang on their second single, The Medium Was Tedium.

There was more sage advice on the B-side: “No more time for spectating,” they announced on Don’t Back The Front. “Tune it, count it, let it blast / Cut it, press it, distribute it / Xerox music’s here at last.” And it was.

In all The Desperate Bicycles made five singles – and one as The Evening Outs – and one album, with a fluid line-up that only included one permanent member, Danny Wigley.

They did not make their live debut until New Year’s Eve at the end of 1977, an occasion that forced them to write and rehearse six new songs.

I remember seeing them at a Rock Against Racism concert with Sham 69 and the reggae band Misty In Roots at Central London Poly in February 1978 – an event that ended in chaos after it was invaded by skinhead thugs from the National Front and British Movement.

Wigley has apparently resisted many invitations and requests over the last 45 years to re-release these minor punk classics, remaining adamant that will never happen.

Fortunately, someone called Dan Selzer has gone and done it for him, and posted it on YouTube right here.