What Killed Britpop?
Short Answer
Britpop was the early to mid-1990s, when British guitar bands made music that sounded like home. Noisy, witty, ambitious. It collapsed under the weight of its own success.
Long Answer
Britpop started as a beautifully awkward shout from the margins. It didn’t ask. It didn’t care. For a moment, the weird kids had it. The art students, the kitchen sink poets, the blokes with guitars who looked like they worked in Carpetright. Then we put it on a stamp and wheeled it out for Blair’s launch party.
The Gallagher handshake at No.10 wasn’t a victory. It was the punchline. Britpop went from “who are these lot?” to “can we get them on a panel with Alan McGee and someone from the BBC?” overnight. What began as a sneer turned into a sales pitch. Even the swagger looked staged.
Then lad culture barged in. Loaded. Nuts. FHM. A wave of lager-soaked mediocrity that took all the edge and turned it into slogans. Jarvis got reduced to a punchline. Blur ran for cover. Pulp sank into sleaze. Oasis just got louder and less interesting.
And then OK Computer. No warning. No mercy. Just a better record. Radiohead didn’t kill Britpop. They just reminded everyone what ambition sounded like.
The industry did what it always does. Signed anyone who could hold a guitar and speak in an accent. Menswear got a deal after one gig. Northern Uproar got two albums. The scene became a catalogue.
It didn’t fall because it was bad. It fell because it got smug. Like most things this country does well, we couldn’t resist turning it into a costume party before it had even grown up.
