There ain’t no rock ‘n’ roll no more / Just the music of the young

That line, from Ian Hunter’s “Apathy 83,” struck me as odd the first time I heard it. Isn’t rock ‘n’ roll supposed to be the music of the young?

But when he later replaced the “music of the young” line with “the sickly sound of greed” and “music of the rich” in the 1976 song, it started to make more sense.

And when a co-worker mentioned Sunday’s American Music Awards, it all came together.

The American Music Awards were created by Dick Clark, who made his career bowdlerizing rock ‘n’ roll in the ‘60s with teen idols such as Bobby Rydell and Fabian.

The formula mixed good-looking performers with a watered-down version of the rock ‘n’ roll that had electrified (or scandalized) the nation just a few years before.

Fast-forward to Sunday night. The AMAs featured a bunch of good-looking kids — Taylor Swift, the Jonas Brothers, Chris Brown — performing pale imitations of country, rock and R&B.

Their versions sound close enough if you don’t pay attention. Go listening for heart, soul, muscle and a backbeat made by a human instead of a machine and you’ll go away disappointed.

In the ‘60s, The Beatles combined teen idol appeal with a love of — and ability to play — real rock ‘n’ roll, plus a knack for expanding the genre beyond its known borders and, well, you know the rest.

In other words, the Fabs knocked the Fabians of the world off their perches and rock ‘n’ roll became the music of the young.

Today, the teen idols rule and no one rebels. “Rock” means product such as Hinder or Nickelback — as lifeless as the AMA pap, only louder and with more dirty words.

The real deal is consigned to “Guitar Hero.” When did rock ‘n’ roll become a video game?