Prohibition was designed to close America’s saloons, but millions of drinkers simply followed the booze through unmarked doors into speakeasies and blind pigs. What emerged underground was more than illicit nightlife: it created a lucrative black market that helped transform neighbourhood gangs into sophisticated criminal businesses.

Michael Crichton’s Westworld gave cinema one of its earliest glimpses of a world seen through digital eyes when the Gunslinger’s vision dissolved into crude coloured pixels. The effect lasts barely a few minutes, but its painstaking creation helped open a door that modern filmmaking would eventually drive an entire virtual theme park through.

Before Horses, Patti Smith belonged as much to New York’s poetry underground as its rock clubs; by the end of 1975 she had fused the two into something that sounded genuinely new. Fifty years later, Patti Smith’s Horses still feels less like a polished debut album than poetry being plugged directly into the mains.