Don’t believe the hype

“The response to this American invasion will be interesting, not least because Britain is finally producing a crop of bands with real potential. Already in January there have been hits for Franz Ferdinand and Snow Patrol. But there are scores more to come. This year promises to boast as many homegrown new acts as the giddy days of Britpop.”

So quoth Steve Lamacq in this article in the Guardian’s Friday Review.

As if it wasn’t bad enough writing a piece about the threat that the influx of American bands poses to indigenous British talent which seems to play carelessly with the xenophobic rhetoric of the right wing.

As if it wasn’t bad enough that, by allowing smug record company wankers to share their corporate philosophies, he implicitly endorses the idea of music as nothing more than a product calculatedly targeted at a certain demographic in order to reap the maximum profits.

No, he just has to perpetuate that pathetic myth that Britpop was some kind of idyllic golden age for British music. Look, let’s get this straight: it wasn’t. It was a nadir rather than a zenith. The rabid and shallow jingoism of it all was disgusting. Probe beyond that surface and there was precious little of any substance. How could anyone feel “giddy” about the likes of Cast, Echobelly, Shed Seven, Menswear and Sleeper? Unless, that is, “giddy” is taken to mean “unbearably nauseous” rather than “incredibly excited”. Thank fuck Radiohead killed it off.