If you’re younger than me, you might not remember “Britpop”.
So, just in case you’ve been hearing about some 20th
anniversary, and are wondering “What’s all this about?”, let me enlighten you.
“Britpop” is a vacuous marketing term, from the mid 1990s,
which lumped several bands in with a handful, all British, who would have been
called “Indie” a few years earlier.
They were a collection of the most insipid (at one end) and
most obnoxious (at the other end) British guitar bands of their day, and
fulfilled the role of marginalizing more interesting music.
It was a heady time, 1994: Tony Blair was elected leader of
the Labour party. That was before he
was a mass-murdering psychopathic megalomaniac, so it was considered acceptable
to like him. The only death he presided
over in those days was the death of the post-war social contract (the idea of
public services funded by progressive taxation, providing a safety net for the
vulnerable), speeding the continued ascendancy of the Thatcherite nightmare in
which we all live now.
So it was considered OK to like Blair in the mid-1990s,
before all the bombs and neo-liberal extremism marked him as Just The Same As
All The Rest But Somehow Even Worse.
The “Britpop” “movement” (as I hear it called on the radio
this week, apparently without irony) was an answer to both the dominance of the
charts by “Dance music” (a technical term for pop music not considered part of
the Southern US Blues tradition, some of which didn’t even have guitars) and
the dominance of “alternative rock” by “grunge” (a term to describe a kind of
music from Seattle that was also invented by the music press to describe
several bands who weren’t particularly good, and a couple that were).
Bands like Oasis, Blur and Suede (all of whom, in saner
times, would have been dismissed as derivative, boring poseurs) were the
soundtrack to the changing times in Britain in the mid-1990s.
The times they were a-changing* so fast that they looked,
sounded and were politically-managed exactly the same as the three decades
before.
Which was clever, in a way.
Here were all these disparate, average (or shite) bands, and
all this “lad” (ie, stereotypical working class male) culture, and they all
used guitars and they were all British.
Which was brilliant.
Because being British was cool. Being a lad was cool.
The “new-found British self-confidence” was a welcome
respite between periods of bombing Iraq and all the other business-as-usual
stuff.
Tony Blair was cool, Oasis were cool, even football joined
in and was cool for a while, when England hosted an international tournament
competently and the team played well for two or three games, at the same time
in 1996.
(Even people who had no interest in football in May 1996
were there, singing “Three Lions On A Shirt” in June 1996, and discussing
Gazza’s weight and mental health and Teddy Sheringham’s shit haircut and
undoubted class and Shearer and Pearce and blah blah blah.
Because it was cool.)
The music industry was right there to bring together these
elements in a kind of mawkish nationalism-lite that the credulous presumably
found entertaining. It was your basic
Bread & Circuses stuff. (Jarvis
cocker mooning Jacko at the Brits, Liam Gallagher giving the V’s to a million
photographers, and Gazza sliding on his arse, just failing to score in the Euro
’96 semi-final – that was the circus stuff)
It was a heady, exciting time, when, to appeal to teenagers
who liked “real” music (another technical term that meant music with guitars
and drums), all a band had to do was belt out some bog-standard rock (the kind
punks sneered at 20 years before) with bravado and no imagination.
An innocent, happy time in which a band with a retro guitar
sound and a singer who sounded like he had something stuck up his arse, and
wasn’t sure if he was enjoying it or not could storm up the charts.
A Golden Age of British Bands For British Teenagers. A time when the phrase “Cool Britannia”
could be repeated without derision or irony, when simply rhyming two words
would induce the record-buying, newspaper-buying public to roll over to have
their bellies tickled.
It might be more accurately called the Pre-Ironic Age, that
Pre-Millenial World. It was an
old-fashioned world, a British world.
A time when all we, British Youth, needed, was British
bands. And we knew they were British,
because there was a Union Flag on NME every week, and Damon Albarn sang in that
sort-of cockney accent.
(Ever the self-effacing realist, Damon Albarn later said “We
created a movement.”)
And there was also the magazines, like Loaded, which
were brilliant, for some reason.
("BIRDS BOOZE N FOOTY WAAHHEEEEYY" they screamed.)
("BIRDS BOOZE N FOOTY WAAHHEEEEYY" they screamed.)
And it was all cool.
Somehow.
(Not like Grunge.
What was all that about? Just noise, wasn’t it?)
And teenagers bought music on CDs. From shops.
In musical terms, it was a handful of bands defined by
immediately obvious influences (British, 60s guitar-based pop sound of the kind
their parents would recognise) – and several bands that got lumped in with them
for marketing purposes.
It co-incided with some very mild social change packaged as
a massive change for the mass consumption of a conspicuously self-conscious
mass media culture.
For those at whom the whole hoopla seemed to be aimed, it
now looks like almost everything else from anyone’s childhood/teenage years: a
mildly embarrassing phase of awkwardness when we were too young to now better.
The music press (remember them?) and major record labels
(remember them?) had a position to justify, and it all worked well for
them. In hindsight, it seems like their
last fling.
And now, Steve Lamacq goes on the radio and talks about it
like it was the fucking Renaissance, or something.
And then in 1997 (when I was 16), OK Computer was
released and I breathed a sigh of relief and felt creative and
excited, and not at all sad.
Appendix
GLOSSARY OF (SOME) BRITPOP BANDS
Ash
Not really part of any scene. Not really any good.
Blur
Bandwagon-jumping tossers posing as working-class
stereotypes. At very best, sounded just
a little bit like The Kinks.
Cast
Utter fucking shite, that’s the kindest thing I can say
about them.
Elastica
Sort of like Belly, if Belly were shit.
Gene
Wanted to be The Smiths so much they couldn’t sleep at
night.
Menswear
They wore suits.
That’s honestly all I can remember.
Northern Uproar
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
Oasis
Balls-out bravado-heavy Beatles-wannabe, pro-lager and
cocaine working-class stereotypes.
Distinctly average, but widely liked, for some reason.
Ocean Colour Scene
Chris Evans-approved rock.
Says it all, really.
Pulp
The most interesting of the lot (no achievement, that), had
been around for years when tarred with the “Britpop” brush. Often mentioned in sentences like “Britpop
bands, like Blur, Oasis and Pulp” by Stuart Maconie and others who make a
living remembering things that seemed good at the time.
Shed Seven
This lot wanted to be The Rolling Stones. Can you see a pattern emerging?
Sleeper
Not that bad. Alright first album, second one not as good.
Suede
A mix of glam-rock and Morrissey-aping whine that wasn’t
any better than that makes it sound.
Supergrass
Cheeky. “We’re all young and cheeky, we are…” got better
with age, which was a pleasant (although, by then inconsequential) surprise.
It could have been worse, you could have been a teenager in the 80s.
ReplyDeleteSsssh. There now...
You're right. Although, I would have been old enough for The Smiths...
ReplyDeletealso, being a younger child of the 80s, I have generally fond memories of 80s pop (ah, the ignorance of youth.)
Whilst I wouldn't stand to defend any of these bands its worth noting that whilst your older brother's were listening to everything from the Beach boys to the Beastie boys, mine was listening to "Let me be your fantasy" by Baby D at full volume on his massive sound system. I had to sit in a wardrobe with headphones on pressing pause on the tape recorder as I recorded music from the radio.
ReplyDeletewith love
Filo Hayes
(PS you forgot Echobelly)