If you were a freedom-loving U.S. American in the mid-1990s, you surely remember the tense (and, in retrospect, patently ridiculous) battle for college rock supremacy between Hootie and the Blowfish and the Dave Matthews Band. It was a conflict that threatened to tear a nation of khaki-shorted collegians apart solely on the relative merits of “Let Her Cry” and “Don’t Drink the Water.”
Now, imagine that same battle with way better music, far more drunken publicity interviews, and much bigger stakes (namely, the victorious band getting to define the cultural values of its nation and hobnob with the head of state; can you imagine Darius Rucker hanging out with Bill Clinton?). That, in a nutshell, was the Battle of Britpop (ca. 1993-1997) waged between Blur, a group of erudite, post-mod schoolboys, and Oasis, a band seemingly motivated only by the prospect of fame and their disdain for their fellow bandmates. To make a long story short, Oasis won the battle but Blur won the war. It was a seminal moment in the type of British rock history that only the British can truly comprehend.
However, both bands had notable Stateside success during this period (even if Blur’s biggest hit mostly consisted of Damon Albarn yelling “Woo hoo!” at the top of his lungs), ushering a brief cultural fad known as “Cool Britannia.” The invasion was brief but influential, reminding Americans that there was life after grunge and introducing Yanks to a previously unseen side of British youth culture with a distinct nationalist flair. The Britpop influence was so pervasive by ‘97 that even its demise came from within, headed by the unlikely tag team of Radiohead and the Spice Girls.
Ten years later, there’s a distinct feeling of deja vu. Radiohead is more relevant than ever. The Spice Girls are touring again. Beckhamania has gripped the Los Angeles elite. And many a band that entrances the hipster audience hails from Britain–they just typically specialize in dance-punk or art-rock nowadays. Britpop, it seems, is as dated as Noel Gallagher’s bowl cut and Union Jack-emblazoned guitar. America’s embrace of music steeped in English esoterica hasn’t endured quite as long as its fascination with music based on Lewis Carroll-esque nonsense words like “zigazig-ah.”
But in the UK, where a fierce loyalty to the product of native musicians remains, Britpop isn’t quite dead yet. Even Oasis is still charting. Some of the neo-Britpop vanguard has made fleeting advances towards American chart success but hasn’t gotten much farther than The O.C. soundtrack (a la Kaiser Chiefs). Razorlight, in its distinctly cheeky fashion, even penned a breezy single entitled “America” for its most recent album, only to see it gain far greater notoriety in the UK. Americans’ tolerance for references to “old Leodiensians” and ebullient shouting of 12-digit mobile phone numbers only extends so far, I guess.
It’s a shame, because the vestiges of Britpop have carried on in acts a lot more lighthearted than Coldplay and Keane, where such bands’ bowdlerization of Britpop is a capital crime. You can see it in The Hoosiers–an English band with a name that has to be the logical conclusion to the neo-Britpop obsession with its forefathers’ unexpected success across the pond and the subsequent generation’s failure to capitalize on it:
The Queen doesn’t need any more saving. God save Britpop instead.
And though it’s been over 15 years since the collapse of communism in Eastern Europe, the seeds Mr. Joel so courageously sowed have finally borne delicious musical fruit. The rise of Beirut, led by 21-year-old wanderlust Zach Condon, in the indie scene is built upon meandering European folk music rhythms and a decidedly pragmatic Soviet-era aesthetic (as the cover art for 2006’s brilliantly-titled Gulag Orkestar will attest).
On the other side of the ruble exists Gogol Bordello, a New York-based band peddling a sort of gypsy/punk rock fusion. Fronted by Eugene Hütz–a man whose style exists somewhere between Fiddler on the Roof and late ’80s club kid–the band’s eight-year reign has sounded (to WASP ears, at least) a lot like the fun ethnic weddings at the community center that you were rarely invited to. Yet what comes through in their most recent single, “Wonderlust King,” is something even more, something that connects with the fact that a semester abroad in Prague is just as coveted now as one in London or Paris. Apparently there’s a killer party somewhere east of the Rhine, and Hütz wants you to come along:
Fans of Slavic folk music the world over salute you, Billy Joel.
Do you have one of those music videos you just wish you never saw? The video for that song you were listening to and just thought, “Hey, I wonder if they made a music video for this… it’s pretty good.” You then proceeded to look up and watch the video, only to be disturbed by its contents. Don’t worry, you’re not alone. I, too, had this unfortunate experience lately with the song Do You Right by 311.
The song is fairly relaxing (it’s about marijuana - what did you expect?) and I figured it could have a decent music video to go along with it. I’m not sure if I have the proper words to express what I saw after that… an extremely colorful mural, back-up vocalist SA Martinez busting some strange moves in fast motion, lead vocalist Nick Hexum shirtless (but in a baggy jacket) sporting a Green Bay Packers cap while awkwardly moving his hands around, waterfalls, rocks, and a few species of monkey zooming by in the background - I’m so confused. This one scene, at exactly 1:24 into the video, contains most of the elements of my confusion:
Now I know this video is from the early 90s, but are we really going to let that be an excuse for this absurdity? All I can say is… witness it for yourself here.
When I first discovered and got into the genre 4 years ago, I thought Powerpop had more or less been dead for 10-15 years. I bought and downloaded every compilation I could find: the D.I.Y. series, the Children of Nuggets 4-disc set, anything that included “Yellow Pills” in its title, etc… There were plenty of compilations to find if you looked hard enough. And there was a reason why the sound quality sounded so poor: Everything was recorded in the 70s and 80s. Every now and then I’d discover a song from the early 90s, but generally I couldn’t find anything substantial “powerpop” later than 1993. What happened to this once magical genre?
Their sound was seemingly terminated somewhere in the late 80s…
Rather than continue on about my frustrations… I’ll get to the point. Powerpop got lost amid the punk movement and the MTV generation. Much of early punk was an outlash almost directly at the suburban spheres where Powerpop bands flourished. The two hated each other. Neither got much public attention and skinny guys in skinny ties were easy targets for the punks. Where does MTV fit in? I was a tyke when it started up in the 80s, but anyone from that era can tell you the music they featured was mainstream and still is. They weren’t revolutionary because they featured music videos from underground bands, they were revolutionary because they played music videos (I’ll give them credit for championing pseudo/post-powerpop bands, however. Read up and R.E.M., if you are interested).
There’s no clear boundary in my mind it was more or less a gradual decrease in the number of bands cranking out jangly guitar-licks and straightforward lyrics about girls they are hopelessly in love with. The day came sometime last summer. I moved back to my hometown for 3 months to wash dished at a local restaurant and enjoy the scenery and culture of the Deep South. I think it was a dream I had or a hallucination… whatever it was it finally made all the elements crystal clear to me. Theory: Powerpop from the 70s/80s never fully died out. It simply became gradually less accessible to the public therefore limiting expose to the thousands of teens that form bands everyday and emulate their favorite groups.
It’s not a nobel-winning theory, but I think it works. I realized this after coming across bands like Gentleman Jesse and His Men, Cause Co-motion, True Love, and The Nice Boys. All contemporary groups with sounds straight out of the late 70s. But why all of a sudden are they popping their heads up? Why not in 1995? Why not in 2000? It’s my belief that downloading, blogs, and music forums have all enabled a new generation of impressionable teens to stumble across the genre that would have otherwise been forgotten. I mean… how did I find out about the genre? I read a thread about it on a music forum. Thank technology for allowing the cycle to continue.
I’ll tell you what, I’ve had my doubts about growing old. But after seeing Hall & Oates at the Hollywood Bowl in the $7-nose-bleed section, I am officially ready to turn 50. Granted, I don’t have the golden vocal chords that Darryl Hall does, but seeing college-aged girls drool over a man who could be their father has given me some hope about old age. Here’s a video:
Not only did their songs sound great after 30 years, they actually added a 4-piece stings section and a wizardly-looking utility musician on stage for some quality break-downs and solos that didn’t come off superfluous. If you missed them, sorry. If this is the first time you’ve heard of them, it is time to jump on the bandwagon. I would recommend buying/downloading The Essential Daryl Hall & John Oates (2 Discs).
