Last Updated on 10/07/2020
It is no lie that the term “Britpop” is marmite. Although Suede’s release of their eponymous debut album in 1993 and Brett Anderson’s Union Jack-laden cover shoot for Select would pave the way for a wave of young, confident British bands and mark the resurgence of ‘Cool Britannia’ (*queue Austin Powers soundtrack*), its trail blazers often aren’t so celebratory of the movement. Speaking to journalist John Harris, Blur guitarist Graham Coxon looks back at his time in the mid-90s with growing resentment, as does Justine Frischmann, Elastica frontwoman, who tells Harris that “the whole thing was so bitchy”. To be frank, they’ve got a point. Although Britpop may have started with good intentions, it ended up being polluted by a peculiar mix of lad culture and Blairite politics. Ultimately, a media-driven battle between Blur and Oasis would overshadow all the British talent of the mid-90s, reaching its apex in 1995 when Oasis’ Noel Gallagher told the world that he wanted Blur’s Damon Albarn and Alex James to “catch Aids and die”.
With Oasis winning three BRIT awards in 1996, Britpop was over and the rules had changed. The popularity of (What’s the Story) Morning Glory? (1996) univeralised what Harris calls the ‘lighter-than-air ballad’, leading to a whole host of pedestrian rock groups taking over the airwaves. We’re talking about bands like Coldplay, Keane and Snow Patrol, with chord progressions which somehow manage to be anthemic yet anemic and lyrics that would go unnoticed if you substituted the words ‘yeah bloody yeah’ in instead. Nonetheless, let’s not forget the years when musicians would crowd into The Good Mixer in Camden to form bands and make good music about typically ‘British’ things. Although their sound wasn’t uniform, it’d be confident and guitar-based, and lyrics would carry conversation about the dynamics of British life, warts and all. It was cool; it was Britpop. Without much further ado, here’s our Top 5 Britpop bands.
5. Elastica.
In many ways, Britpop went hand-in-hand with laddishness. Coinciding with the hype for Euro 96, a trinity of beer, football and music quickly emerged and bands like Oasis became lad culture personified. However, Britpop wasn’t solely full of boy bands, with Elastica being just one band bucking the previous trend of a lack of female musicians in the British music industry. Their sound can perhaps be best described by an advertisement that they put into Melody Maker whilst on the hunt for a fourth and final member, stating: “Guitarist wanted. Influences: The Stranglers, The Fall and Wire.” With grizzly bass lines hard enough to inspire a Ross Kemp documentary, sharp riffs and brazen vocals, in hindsight it’s no wonder that Elastica’s eponymous debut album went to the top of the charts in 1995. Back then, however, success was so unexpected that drummer Justin Welch reminisces how, when Top Of The Pops came knocking, the band would still be squatting in a crummy London residency. Popular hits like “Connection”, “Waking Up” and “Stutter” are tight and stand the test of time; “Line Up” makes you want to pogo your head into the ceiling. After being with Suede in its embryonic stage, lead singer Justine Frischmann wanted her band to be punky, without the need for any potentially drawn-out guitar solos. Unfortunately, Frischmann’s spotlight in the media has largely been dominated by her relationships with Brett Anderson and Damon Albarn. Maybe if the media focused more on Elastica’s creative output rather than on Frischmann being the envy of obsessive teenage fantasy then the band’s exceptional debut release would be better remembered by the public today.
This said, it’s also fairly accepted that Elastica could not live up to their own standards. Unlike more commercially successful British artists, they successfully broke into America, getting admirers from the likes of Rolling Stone. The problem was that the hustle and bustle of constant touring would eventually grind them down and lead to guitarist Annie Holland quitting the band. They’d never be quite the same. Nonetheless, take the harsh reviews for The Menace (2000) with a pinch of salt. Being their second and final album, it’s still very spiky in some places and explorative and atypical elsewhere. Give “My Sex” a go. One of Frischmann’s most remarkable and personal songs, it’s so entrancing that you’ll want to listen to it a second time, a third, a fourth, and so on …
4. Suede.
When Suede released “The Drowners” in 1992, they were relighting a quintessentially British, Prufrockian torch that had been dormant since the days of The Kinks and David Bowie; Bowie’s album Lodger (1979) has clearly had a massive impact on all of Britpop, beginning with Suede frontman Brett Anderson. At the time of the single’s release, all you could tune into on British radio was the American grunge and shoegaze that had swept the country that year. Suede were offering something much different. They sang about English suburbia, echoing themes from The Kinks’ Village Green Society (1968) and found muses in the mundane, greasy spoon cafes of Haywards Heath. On Suede (1993), songs like “Metal Mickey”, “So Young” and “Animal Nitrate” playfully tackle the drudge of day-to-day life for the average Briton with poppy guitar riffs and funky basslines as provided by Bernard Butler and Mat Osman respectfully. It’s no exaggeration that these songs would go on to lay out the blueprint for Britpop. Despite Butler leaving during the making of their second album, Suede would release two more great albums before drug addiction and burn-out eventually dented their creativity.
Dog Man Star (1994) arguably takes a more sobering tone, with tension between Butler and Anderson leaking into the hidden meaning behind most tracks. This can particularly be heard on “The 2 Of Us” and “The Asphalt World”. However, the rivalry does not take away from the quality of the album, despite making the recording process much more challenging. As Anderson himself states in interviews, “the grit in the oyster makes the pearl”. Besides, Richard Oakes, the prodigal 17 year old who would take over from Butler, adds a welcomed sense of simplicity to both Dog Man Star and Coming Up (1996). His introduction marks a clear step away from the misery swarming the second album, and tempted Suede to revisit the idea of making concise pop songs for their third release. It’s Oakes’ convivial guitar riff on “Beautiful Ones”, for example, that will resonate most with readers. “Trash”, “Filmstar” and “The Chemistry Between Us” are other important songs that cement Suede’s identity as a sexual yet garish band, forever trying to get their country’s niches down on paper.
3. Pulp.
Suede claim that it took them ages to find their sound and, in fairness, a couple of years can stretch to an eternity. However, for a band who took sixteen years to find chart success, three years to Pulp may as well have been the amount of time it takes to cook a packet of Uncle Ben’s. If you want the lowdown on Pulp’s sound before the release of their fourth studio album His N Hers (1994), listen to the Countdown: 1992-1983 (1996) compilation. Although the enigmatic frontman Jarvis Cocker would urge people not to buy the compilation, seeing it as solely a profit-making scheme by Fire records, a record label who he felt had previously held Pulp back and were now riding on the coattails of their 90s success, there are some great tracks on it. Skip past songs like “My Lighthouse”, “Wishful Thinking” and “Blue Girls”, which appear on Pulp’s first album, It (1983). Despite being marginally tuneful (this itself is contestable), Cocker’s lyrics are so pathetically romantic that they make DiCaprio’s performance as Jay Gatsby seem not too dissimilar to his role as Calvin Candie in Django Unchained. Instead, tune into “Master of the Universe” from Freaks (1987) and “My Legendary Girlfriend” from Separations (1992), which possess darker, more creative lyrics and melodies. On the latter track, the Guardian states that it explodes with ‘a brilliant Technicolor flash until, six-odd minutes later, all that’s left is a wonderful pop band’. An appropriate statement given how it seems like Cocker lends from Simple Minds’ “Colours Fly” sound, albeit certainly making it more poppy.
This takes us to the His N’ Hers (1994) and Different Class (1995) albums, both exceptional and a must listen from start to finish. Forget Oasis’ “Roll With It” and Blur’s “Country House”, which Blur Frontman Damon Albarn now labels “both shit”, Pulp’s “Common People” should have been single of the year in 1995. The band manages to give it, along with tracks like “Mis-Shapes”, “Babies” and “Disco 2000”, a big sound without making them “sound like tossers”, as Cocker testifies. They’re quintessential Britpop, gaily taking on themes like class difference and sexual frustration.
Unfortunately, Pulp’s momentum would not last. Their sixth studio album This Is Hardcore (1998) purposefully takes a darker tone than their previous two, but this does not warrant enough of an excuse for its lack of creativity. It sounds like they’re half heartedly trying to make a budget James Bond backtrack, heavily borrowing from bands like Blur, Television and even John Michel Jarre, but most of all themselves. Listen to it, by all means, but for me it just seems to represent a sinister sounding caricature of themselves. In this regard, it’s important to remember Pulp for the energy they exuded at their zenith. Have a watch of their performance at Glastonbury in 1995.
2. Blur.
Cor blimey, guvnor – looks like Blur have found silver! The only band to challenge Suede as the daddies of Britpop, their mammoth of a discography kick-started the movement, was partly responsible for the biggest chartwar since The Beatles vs The Rolling Stones, and does not burn out in the same way as did many other British discographies in the late 90s. Blur were talented, incredibly ambitious (well, Frontman Damon Albarn was) and had a unique, distinctly English sound. With Leisure (1991), Blur’s first studio album, they were well on their way to becoming an unstoppable force. Although the themes discussed are pretty nondescript, songs like “Bad Day” and “Slow Down” are symbolic of the band’s homage to the dancy, atmospheric nature of the late 80s Madchester/Spike Island scene. Side by side electric guitar-glossed R.E.M. elements found in “There’s No Other Way”, such a sound would act as a foundation for their three Britpop albums, namely: Modern Life Is Rubbish (1993), Parklife (1994) and The Great Escape (1995).
The first of the three, Modern Life Is Rubbish, is an incredibly historic album. Made after an arduous, displeasing tour around America, Albarn had finally found something to kick against – Britain’s vapid relationship with American popular culture. With this revelation, he’d launch a resistance flooded with archetypal British iconography: roast dinners on “Sunday Sunday”, package holidays on “Advert”, modern day Phileas Foggs on “Colin Zeal”, all the whilst Blur’s other band members (Graham Coxon, Alex James and Dave Rowntree) would contribute with boisterous and spirited instrumentals. By 1995, the country had gone bonkers for Blur, and it’s no wonder. Although Albarn’s range is admittedly limited, resembling what the BBC call a cheeky chappy, “perma-smirk delivery”, his charisma and Coxon’s gift for a riff are something to truly cherish. If you’re familiar with tracks like “Girls and Boys” and “Parklife” which, if you’ve ever stepped foot into an English nightclub, I’m sure you are, you might want to try some other stuff like Parklife’s “End of a Century” and “Bank Holiday” and The Great Escape’s “Stereotypes” and “Charmless Man”.
This brings us to Blur’s post-Britpop days. Scared that by their fourth album they were becoming caricatures of themselves, the band wanted to shake things up and therefore chose to distance themselves from Britpop with the release of their eponymous Blur album (1997). This proved to be a needed move, as it allowed Coxon to take a greater leading role in production. In turn, all his pent up frustration of previously pampering to Blur’s teenage fandom led to a raw, aggressive release. Turn off and tune in to their delicate melodies on “Beetlebum”, “Theme from Retro” and “Death of a Party”, just be warned that you’ll be shaken out of your coma by the riffs on “Song 2”, “M.O.R.” and “Chinese Bombs”.
13 (1999) explores similar sounds, but is more sombre with its opening track “Tender” arguably being Blur’s most important song. Recorded at a time when each member was suffering from a combination of break ups, substance abuse and alcoholism, it now acts as a pertinent reminder to each of the four of how much they’d endured together. It’s an incredibly healing song, wrapped in a veil of commune and comfort. Just look at how much it means to them at their Glastonbury reunion. It even indirectly inspired The Magic Whip (2015), a spontaneous eighth and final album with some creative, dream-like stuff on it like “Go Out” and “Lonesome Street”.
1. Supergrass.
It baffles me why Supergrass aren’t recognised as one of the greatest Britpop bands, if not THE greatest, of the era. Instead, they are completely overlooked as those geezers with big sideburns who made that annoyingly catchy song “Alright”. You know, the song that you hear a billion times in films and adverts but can never put your finger on who wrote it. It is a complete injustice to file the band into a folder of Britpop’s B-Listers, only comparable to the time when Sampaoli crushed Argentina’s 2018 World Cup hopes by choosing to play Pavon and Perez instead of Aguero and Dybala – but let’s not digress. There’s two reasons why I think there’s a good chance you’ve never heard of them. First of all, their debut album I Should Coco (1995) came out when Britpop was already peaking. This, alongside Frontman Gaz Coombes only being SEVENTEEN when the band released their first single “Sun Hits The Sky”, meant that the population just saw them as “the youngest of the crop”, a baby Oasis. Urgh! It says it all that they won the 1996 BRIT Award for Best New Artist, but never anything since.
The truth is, there’s so much more to Supergrass’ discography than what people give it credit for. None of their albums have aged badly, as ultimately who couldn’t do with a bit of sometimes whimsical, sometimes aggressive, but always entertaining music? Christ knows we Brits can. Funnily enough, “Alright” is probably one of the weakest songs on their debut album – not because it’s a bad song, just that the rest are exceptional. “I’d Like To Know” matches stuff like early Buzzcocks for energy and needs to be played out loud; “Caught By The Fuzz” is punky and rebellious and draws parallels rhythmically to how The Who championed their own generation, coincidentally with tracks like “My Generation”. If you’re someone that appreciates a good harmony when you hear one, look no further than “She’s So Loose”. Likewise, if you like the occasional ballad then listen to “Time” followed by “Sofa (Of My Lethargy)”. I’d usually say that ballads are often too wishy washy for my taste, but listening to this mini medley can only be compared to that sudden rush of comfort you get when you switch from Wilko own-brand to Andrex extra-soft toilet paper … you know what I mean.
In It For The Money (1997) is similarly littered with classics and highlights their superb talent and punk energy. The opening title track immerses the listener with an eerie dose of Rob Coombes’ organ before invigorated mid-tempo drumming and a burst of electric guitar and seductive bass, as provided by Danny Goffrey, Gaz and Mick Quinn respectively, comes crashing down on the listener. Heavy riffing then continues on “Richard III” and “Tonight” with gripping hooks, before “Late In The Day” slams the brakes to deliver a brilliantly melodic, Floyd-esque number. Such a change of direction on the album is truly testament to Supergrass’ imaginative sound and inventive maneuvers. You’ll be glad to know that the rest of the album follows this pendulum-patterned swing of diverse, oscillating and fun sonic entertainment. “Sun Hits The Sky” is adored by fans for its high tempo and entrancing bass lines, with “It’s Not Me” existing as a suitable foil, providing the band’s second album with a beautiful equilibrium.
Finally, Supergrass cap off the millennium with their eponymous album Supergrass (1999). It definitely marks a switch of tempo for the band, with a clear psychedelic influence drowning out their previous punk sound. Nonetheless, despite being lethargic, the album is by no means boring. Songs like “Mary” and “Eon” build much more slowly, but that’s no bother given how hypnotic and mesmerising they are. “Moving” and “Pumping On Your Stereo” are also great listens, with Gaz’s steady riffing making them especially ideal for car journeys. A song that doesn’t get as much love as it should is “Mama and Papa”, a sobering track about the early days of adulthood when, living by yourself for the first time, you realise … shit … I’m not a kid anymore, I’ve got to struggle by myself.
These three albums cover a lot of Supergrass, but if you want the full picture then this year, to mark their recent reunion, the band have released a compilation which also includes the best tracks from Life On Other Planets (2002), Road To Rouen (2005) and Diamond Hoo Ha (2008). Well worth a listen!
No Oasis? “Brave move”, I hear you say. Don’t worry, I’ve put my money where my mouth is and have recently ‘starred’ in Supergrass’ Official (Fan) Music Video for “Alright”. For all those that are livid about the lack of Mancunian winging in this Top 5, give it a watch to distract yourselves!
