The Time Has Come

This was a frequent number played by the bands at high school and college dances toward the end of the evening. 

There was a period where we didn't call them "bands," though but "groups." Groups were cooler.  Bands were like what your school had at football games. Bands were like Desi Arnaz, or the Copacabana (of which Barry Manilow did an artful takedown a few years later), or Stan Getz.  I mean, you might as well have a quartet, or an ensemble. Geez. That silly snobbery didn't end until "The Weight" became popular in the States, which was a few years after it was released.  The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band's name could be regarded as a bit ironic. Such were the subtleties of whether you were one of the cool kids or not.  You either picked up the cultural cues that "group" was cooler than "band," or you didn't. No one had to say it. 

If it went away and the fashion changed a few years later, so much the better, if you were keeping up with it.  If you were very good at those social shadings and could write clever insults about it, you went into popular journalism. That's basically what Maureen Dowd and Frank Rich brought to the table for the NYT. They reassured their audience that they had picked up the cues correctly, and if you had any doubts, they would broaden the hint so that you stayed on the right team. Ferociously good reading of cultural cues, and it does take some intelligence, though I wouldn't call it intellectual.