After my last blog on Britpop fizzy drink wars, I thought I'd pen a more considered reflection on the mid-90s guitar band phenomenon whose 20th anniversary the music media have pinpointed as around about now.
I was 16-18 in the years 1994-96, and was before then a staunch metaller listening solely to thrash metal and Nirvana after renouncing chart music at the turn of the decade.
That all changed when I heard the first 30 seconds of Oasis' Definitely Maybe in '94 - Rock & Roll Star's guitar squall crashing in through the speakers of my brother's bedroom stereo. It was the moment I first saw the bridge between metal and 'indie', which until then had just sounded lightweight and twee in comparison.
I was 16-18 in the years 1994-96, and was before then a staunch metaller listening solely to thrash metal and Nirvana after renouncing chart music at the turn of the decade.
That all changed when I heard the first 30 seconds of Oasis' Definitely Maybe in '94 - Rock & Roll Star's guitar squall crashing in through the speakers of my brother's bedroom stereo. It was the moment I first saw the bridge between metal and 'indie', which until then had just sounded lightweight and twee in comparison.
But early Oasis had that swaggery, almost Pistols-style sound that linked to the heavier albums I'd been headbanging to, and once I saw that Metallica's drummer Lars Ulrich was a fan of Supersonic, playing the video on an MTV special (while James Hetfield shook his head disapprovingly in the background), so began my love-hate relationship with the Mancs.
It snowballed from there: they led to the Stone Roses (in reverse - 94's Second Coming first; earlier period after they split in 96). Meanwhile a couple of schoolmates had been tubthumping Parklife and Supergrass' I Should Coco so much that I listened to them properly one weekend, which was like two jigsaw pieces slotting into place - their spirited eccentricities outshining the more morbid stuff I'd been caning.
It snowballed from there: they led to the Stone Roses (in reverse - 94's Second Coming first; earlier period after they split in 96). Meanwhile a couple of schoolmates had been tubthumping Parklife and Supergrass' I Should Coco so much that I listened to them properly one weekend, which was like two jigsaw pieces slotting into place - their spirited eccentricities outshining the more morbid stuff I'd been caning.
When the Manic Street Preachers released Everything Must Go, their first album since guitarist Richey Edwards had vanished, it was further music to my ears: big, punky guitars like Oasis' but with some dramatic orchestration draped over it and angrier lyrics which showed up how hollow were Noel Gallagher's; Pulp's Different Class & Weller's Stanley Road also progressively confirming how unimaginative Noel was in comparison. I started wearing a Kappa jacket, hacked my long hair short and aligned myself with Camp Blur. It was also when I properly got into The Beatles and Kinks, reverse-engineering all I was now listening to.
Anyway, fast-forward 20 years to this week, and beneath the commemorative fanfare - am listening to BBC6's top 50 Britpop anthems as I write - there are so many people in online comment sections rejecting the whole movement as derivative and of zero value, always trotting out how it was all merely 'recycled' 60s music.
And for some reason Space and Shed 7 often get referenced, as putative practitioners of the 'worst' of Britpop, and that's where their argument falls apart in my eyes, because in the last four months I've seen both bands live on reviewing duties, and at both gigs - the Sheds' was packed, Space's not so much - they delivered with precision and passion the same abundance of tracks that managed to claw their way into mid-90s Top 10s, and across even the Atlantic into Hollywood movie soundtracks (1996's Female of the Species).
And for some reason Space and Shed 7 often get referenced, as putative practitioners of the 'worst' of Britpop, and that's where their argument falls apart in my eyes, because in the last four months I've seen both bands live on reviewing duties, and at both gigs - the Sheds' was packed, Space's not so much - they delivered with precision and passion the same abundance of tracks that managed to claw their way into mid-90s Top 10s, and across even the Atlantic into Hollywood movie soundtracks (1996's Female of the Species).
Space, Islington Academy, 2014 © Kris Griffiths
To me Space were an innovative band unlike any 60s outfit they were supposedly aping, while Shed 7 wrote some classic indie tracks which struck so many chords that they'd amassed 11 Top 30 hits by the time Let It Ride's last single was released, enough for a premature Greatest Hits to be forced into being by Polydor against the band's wishes.
By then NME had routinely written them off, in the same way so many in general have done with the whole scene. Other cast-offs include Cast, Dodgy and Ocean Colour Scene, but again, each wrote at least a couple of memorable tunes that haven't aged as badly as detractors claim. Chris Evans' TFI Friday might have dated but its live bands - those three included; OCS soundtracked the show - were a sign of better times for British popular music which have scarcely been seen since.
Ok, it all got a bit overblown with Cool Britannia and the whole Roll With It v Country House episode, and then Oasis ran out of ideas and Blur went navel-gazey, but it was a time when bands from every part of the UK - many fronted by women - were consistently delivering music with soul and musicianship, and even classical leanings (The Divine Comedy, My Life Story). The more 'rock' offerings were sparky, punky tunes like what BBC6 have just been dropping: Ash's Girl From Mars & Supergrass' Richard III.
Even Oasis were a bit artier than people remember. Definitely Maybe's cover inspiration was Flemish Renaissance paintings believe it or not, a narrative behind the room and objects like in Jan van Eyck's Arnolfini Wedding. The Gallaghers certainly weren't as 'dumb' as so many see them - well, Noel wasn't at least. He saw what British music was lacking in the grungey early 90s and delivered it draped in a Union Jack, his interviews witty and candid. Even Liam was funny when he wanted to be. Their biggest mistake was dragging it all on as long as they did - it was fitting that Blur headlined Glastonbury the year they finally split.
Even Oasis were a bit artier than people remember. Definitely Maybe's cover inspiration was Flemish Renaissance paintings believe it or not, a narrative behind the room and objects like in Jan van Eyck's Arnolfini Wedding. The Gallaghers certainly weren't as 'dumb' as so many see them - well, Noel wasn't at least. He saw what British music was lacking in the grungey early 90s and delivered it draped in a Union Jack, his interviews witty and candid. Even Liam was funny when he wanted to be. Their biggest mistake was dragging it all on as long as they did - it was fitting that Blur headlined Glastonbury the year they finally split.
The bigger mistake is to write off Britpop as a dated fad, the point I'm flogging here. When I left for uni in '97 it was a double life watershed as the scene was over - Radiohead's OK Computer arguably brought the curtain down on it all. And then, just as arguably, that's when British music - both independent and mainstream - went seriously downhill. Gomez & Gay Dad were seen as leading indie lights in the later 90s (Gomez weren't that bad actually) while boy bands and the likes of Steps and Hear'Say took over the charts - guitar acts were expunged by production-line pop and that situation's never changed, notwithstanding the brief noughties spike of Bloc Party, Franz and Libertines. The charts soon became meaningless, hence Top of the Pops pulling its plug.
I'm not saying the death of Britpop precipitated it all - the download age and its consequences would've arrived either way - rather that it was the charts' final hurrah, when there were decent bands on TOTP pretty much every week.
I'm not saying the death of Britpop precipitated it all - the download age and its consequences would've arrived either way - rather that it was the charts' final hurrah, when there were decent bands on TOTP pretty much every week.
Suede, 1996
Last year Robbie Williams, who also took off as soon as the scene died, became another bandwagoner proclaiming how awful it all supposedly was, reeling off a list of lesser lights from Britpop's Wiki page. As I then tweeted, anyone who can earnestly slate some of the better bands like Suede and The Bluetones while elevating One Direction, well, I don't have to say much more than that.
All I will say to conclude is that in today's changed musical landscape, which is unlikely ever to yield another Britpop era, another 20 years from now people will still be listening to it, to Blur, Pulp and (early) Oasis, not the X Factor karaoke crew, and probably not One Direction. No matter what Robbie & co keep spouting, I strongly believe that the UK pop charts have never had it as good since that short pre-millennium period, bookended by Chris Evans' grinning mug at Friday teatime, to the tune of the Riverboat Song.
All I will say to conclude is that in today's changed musical landscape, which is unlikely ever to yield another Britpop era, another 20 years from now people will still be listening to it, to Blur, Pulp and (early) Oasis, not the X Factor karaoke crew, and probably not One Direction. No matter what Robbie & co keep spouting, I strongly believe that the UK pop charts have never had it as good since that short pre-millennium period, bookended by Chris Evans' grinning mug at Friday teatime, to the tune of the Riverboat Song.
link: My Britpop-movie mashups
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