When they write the book on the history of the guitar they’ll have to dedicate a chapter to Marquee Moon alone. On first listen it sounds like an adrenaline pumping, good time pop record, which it is, but oh so more! The simple two guitars, bass and drums arrangements here are treated with such care and attention to detail, that this is about as close to a masterpiece as albums like this get, featuring jaw dropping guitar interplay that is as enjoyable as it is admirable.

The guitarists are Tom Verlaine and Richard Lloyd, neither of which fall into the neat bracket of lead guitarist or rhythm guitarist, both sharing soloing duties. Together their guitars bob, weave, sore and swoop, becoming lost within each other somehow managing to sound improvised, but such is the chemistry between the two that it defies belief – the rhythm of the guitar lines on songs like ‘Venus De Milo’ produces chills.

Despite this joint guitar leadership the mastermind of Television is frontman Tom Verlaine, who manages to cradle the stunning guitar play and craft it into some outstanding songwriting. No movement is wasted; every note is for the good of the individual songs. For example ‘Friction’ opens with a dirty blues riff, before Verlaine rips into a creepy descending scale, all the time Lloyd continues to hit all the right rhythmic notes, the drum and bass anchoring their interplay. “My eyes are like telescopes / I see it all backwards but who wants hope?/If I ever catch that ventriloquist, I'll squeeze his head right into my fist” barks Verlaine. Lyrically his twisted poetry compliments the fiddly guitars that play under them.

Verlaine might be the president, but Television are most definitely a democracy, each member bringing their own individual flair to each song, the title track being the selection which most defines the collectivist nature of the band. A guitar pop song, except it stretches over 10 minutes and features some of the sharpest dual guitar imaginable, every instrument is vital. Both guitarists take turns soloing and are complimented by an inventive rhythm section. Billy Ficca’s drumming manages to grab attention even with the fist pumping guitar surrounding him.

After the pleasure centre overload of Side A, the second half of the record doesn’t attempt to keep up the kind of fury displayed on the first half. Instead Verlaine expands his pallet, looks within, and pulls out a series of Ziggy Stardust-like twisted pop songs. Lloyd shares songwriting duties on ‘Guiding Light’, a far blunter, more laid back track to what has preceded it. The group add a piano to the arrangement and a Harrison-esque guitar solo.

Some things don’t need books to explain their importance. Anyone who wants to know about Television, about the guitar, about the New York punk scene, Marquee Moon is where they need to start.