When people think of the most influential artists in punk, there are some obvious optionsi. But a band that get overlooked for their considerable influence is the Buzzcocks. Think about it. Their 1977 Spiral Scratch EP was the first independently released punk record, which fused theidea of DIY to the punk ethos. It set a precedent for bands releasing their own music, their New Hormones label predating Rough Trade, SST, Touch and Go, Subpop and Dischord. Guitarist Pete Shelley and original frontman Howard Devoto also booked the Sex Pistols to play their first Manchester gig, making the band not just a London scene blip but a national presence, as well as kickstarting the Manchester punk/indie scene. Plus for better or worst, they invented pop punk and did it better than any other band since. But for this video I'll be focusing on their greatest moment: "Ever Fallen In Love (With Someone You Shouldn't Have Fallen In Love With"
The Smiths were one of the most important bands of the 80s. Fronted by a celibate crooner in love with Oscar Wilde and the New York Dolls, with their music composed by a teenaged Byrds-obsessive, they were at odds with the music of the time. To see Morrissey flouting around with some gladioli on Top of the Pops, with Johnny Marr's jangling Rickenbacker backing him up, was a Eureka moment. They weren't like other bands, and that was the point. The Smiths released four untouchable studio albums and inspired a generation of teenagers. But their prolific output's quality was not constrained to their LPs: Even their b-sides were on par with their best work.
Influence is a strange thing. Just because a band is influential, doesn't necessarily mean the band is known because of their influence. People know Radiohead's OK Computer changed things. People are less aware of Massive Attack's Blue Lines and its aura of influence. Formed in Bristol in the late 80s, they made it so dance music didn't have to be all about speed, that it could be emotive and chilled. They made serious moves to make Hip-Hop outside of the US a legitimate thing. And most importantly, made it so Hip-Hop as a whole could seek to be introspective in its ideas rather than party-hard or political. While overall Massive Attack are more well known for their 1998 song “Teardrop”, their most important single was 1991's “Unfinished Sympathy”. While Its unusual structure and genre fusion are elements that get critics interested,
"Love Will Tear Us Apart" casts a mighty shadow on Joy Division's career. While the Manchester band recorded two studio albums, alongside a host of singles, demos and radio sessions, nothing seems to get as much hype as the song etched on lan Curtis memorial. And because of that I won't be talking about that already canonized song, but instead a cut off their monolithic 1979 debut album. Unknown Pleasures. Same too about "Disorder", "Atmosphere" or "Shadowplay". One that best exemplifies Joy Division's devastating use of space, their broodinganti-funk grooves and Martin Hannett's (producer of Buzzcocks' Spiral Scratch EP and Jilted John) experimental production. The song that cuts right to the heart of the singer and lyricist lan Curtis, his raw desperation and the cult of genius surrounding him. A song that inspired the next wave of post-punk and beyond, but also pointed to Curtis' end itself. This is the story of "She's Lost Control"
The UK Singles Chart used to mean something. Now, not so much. But before the age of streaming, a number one single was an achievement to be proud of. Especially when the artist wasn't your stereotypical pop act. Many influential acts never even touched the chart's apex, not even close. But yet Pink Floyd, Iron Maiden, The Clash, Arctic Monkeys and Manic Street Preachers have taken the top spot, and there's a sense of accomplishment in the face of impossible odds. But rarely if ever has a number one single captured a moment in history as concisely as The Specials did in 1981. While tracks by Madness and The Selecter existed within the two tone genre, "Ghost Town" remains the most important. The band's legacy is audible in artists as diverse as Massive Attack, The Streets and Lily Allen, but their second number one single managed to capture the malaise of the British public, the strain of unemployment and the tension of cultural unrest. This is the story of "Ghost Town"
Every British band since the Beatles has seen going in America as a measure of supremesuccess. But rarely does that happen. Its a big place and just because something appeals to UK taste,doesn't mean it'll definitely crossover. Some of thegreatest British bands of all time haven't made a dent in US. With their wordy debut single "I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor", Arctic Monkeys were a band that seemed destined for this lack of US-appreciation, a Sheffield guitar band beloved in the UK, whose singer's insightful lyricism followed a British songwriting tradition from' Ray Davies through Paul Weller to Jarvis Cocker. This quintessential British view on nights out, relationships and "not very good" local bands ran through their 2006 debut album, Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not. References to Rotherham, the phrase "Mardy Bum"and frontman Alex Turner's thick Yorkshire accent weren't going to translate. But 7 years later, a beefed up, slower sound gave a top 10 US hit
The 2010s was a weird decade for music. Any artistthat has come up in the last ten years has done so ina fragmented social media dominated world. But thishas fostered a generation of British acts unafraid tobe pop in the broadest sense, but also intenselyawkward and original in their own special way; alt-J, Jamie XX and The 1975. But especially FKA twigs, one of the most interesting artists that's come out of Britain in the last decade. Wowing critics and those in the know with her early EPs and first album, LP1 in 2014 with massive tracks like "Two Weeks", "Video Girl" and "Pendulum". Her sound was her own unique brand of half time trap beats, Kate Bush-style eccentric soprano atop a mesh of found-sound sampling and industrial-style electronica. Plus her jawdropping live show made it so eyes andears were turned in her direction before she disappeared musically, only to reappear in 2019 with her finest work yet, the fragile bombast of her comeback "Cellophane".
From the commercial heights of nu metal to the more recent experiments with hip hop combining both emo and country, Genre fusion has come a long way. But back in the 90s Dance and Rock were separate entities. In the UK, The Stone Roses, Primal Scream, the Happy Mondays and of course New Order had been tinkering with dance music within a rock format, but for the most part dance was dance, rock was rock. And rarely did anyone listen to both. Then came Liam Howlett and The Prodigy. They cared not for genre divides. Starting off as a chart-bothering rave act in 1990 with tracks like "Charly" and "Out of Space", by their second album, Music for the Jilted Generation, they had moved beyond pure dance into something way more interesting, for example on "No Good Start the Dance", "Poison" and "Voodoo People". Their unique mix of electronica, hip hop and rock led to their storming dance-punk crossover album The Fat of the Land.
When faced with the phrase “One Hit Wonder” Dexys Midnight Runners would be one of the first bands to come to most US minds. Their megahit “Come On Eileen” is one of the eternal dancefloor fillers, a feat that they could never have possibly repeated. But for Britain, Dexys Midnight Runners represent one of the most unique, innovative and down right best bands these Isles have ever produced. Not quite the ska of The Specials or Madness, nor the new wave of The Jam or Elvis Costello, Dexys with their American R&B-inspired sound, taking inspiration from Geno Washington's "Michael the Lover", "Born To Run" by Bruce Springsteen and Tom Jones' "It's Not Unusual, their three-piece horn section and or celtic strings stood apart from their supposed peers, not to mention the synthetic pop dominating the charts at the time. And with their numerous UK top forty hits including "Dance Stance", "Tell Me When My Light Turns Green", "There There My Dear", "Show Me" and "Jackie Wilson Said" and a secon
Kate Bush is a unique artist. From her art rock 70s beginning with hits like "The Man With the Child in His Eyes", "Them Heavy People" and "Wow" through her revolutionary 80s output, to her sporadic recluse releases, each new album brings new ideas, new characters and new sounds. No other artist could fit the radio-ready singles of “Running Up That Hill”, “Hounds of Love” and “Cloudbusting” on the same LP as a 26-minute musical journey that follows a woman’s death-hallucinations drowning under ice. Her influence can be heard in the works of The Cocteau Twins, Tori Amos and Bjork as well as more recent aspirants like Bat For Lashes, FKA twigs and Perfume Genius. But like everyone else, she had to start somewhere. And again, no other artist entered the music world like Kate Bush, who took the stage in 1978 with the haunting classic literature-themed love song that was her debut single. This is New British Canon and this is the story of “Wuthering Heights.”
The Brit Awards are a big deal. The nearest thing Britain has to the Grammys’, each year the pop-skewing side of the nation’s music talent gathers to see who is the best. While the awards and speeches are the point, what seems to stick in the British consciousness are the performances. Ginger Spice’s Union Jack dress. Gorillaz’ playing “live” for the first time. Adele breaking hearts with “Someone Like You.” These will always be iconic moments in British Pop. But BRITS performances also have the ability to outrage delicate sensibilities as well: Whether it be The KLF featuring Extreme Noise Terror thrash punk reworking of “3AM Eternal”, Pulp’s Jarvis Cocker mooning Michael Jackson or Kanye West beating the censor when debuting “All Day.” But the most complained about performance in BRITS history happened in 2020, and it made Britain ask some serious questions. Most frequently: Who is Dave? This is New British Canon and this is the story of “Black.”
British music in the first decade of the 2000s could be defined by many things. The New Rock Revolution. The emergence of Grime. The continuation of UK garage. Poptism and Talent Shows were in the charts and nu metal and post-hardcore was fuelling the rock underground. But an artist that defied everything else happening around her but defined everything in her wake, was MIA. Starting off with her scrappy DIY debut album Arular in 2005, with similarly scrappy singles “Galang” and “Sunshowers”, her sound was a dizzying mix of whatever she could get her hands on: Hip-hop, jungle, dancehall, bhangra, electro, whatever but always with an ear for the mainstream. But the world truly knew her name with the release of “Paper Planes” in 2008. A monster single that fused together themes of immigration, public paranoia and being a gangster with biting satire, blasting gunshot effects and an eternal pop hook and a forerunner to Rihanna and Childish Gambino's "This is America". This is New British C
Cartoon bands as a concept had existed before Gorillaz. While The Archies, Josie and the Pussycats and Alvin and the Chipmunks had toyed with the medium, Gorillaz was the first time where it was more than a novelty. For the past two decades they have been pumping out weird and wonderful pop music, spanning multiple genres and featuring far reaching musical guests. Who would have thought that the guy from Blur would work with Bobby Womack, Neneh Cherry, Noel Gallagher and half of the Clash? But beyond that the group has defied all expectations and become global superstars. Smashing charts with hits like "19-2000", "Rock The House", "Feel Good Inc", "DARE", "Stylo", "On Melancholy Hill" & "Saturn Bars." As much as they are a Cartoon band, the project has evolved way beyond that. But it had to start somewhere, with their tentative first steps. This is New British Canon and this is the story of "Clint Eastwood".
Despite its influence, the timespan of Britpop was so very brief. From the release of “The Drowners” by Suede and “Popscene” by Blur, through Blur vs Oasis to its death knell with the release of OK Computer, merely 4 years and change. But the band that best represented that fleeting yet enduring cultural moment, the class divides, the classic pop literacy and the misfits-have-overrun-the-country attitude is Pulp. Formed in 1978, but finally with a chance at chart success in the Britpop era, the band, fronted by the awkwardly charismatic Jarvis Cocker, produced some of the most cuttingly insightful tracks of the 90s with “Do You Remember the First Time?”, “Mis-shapes” & “This Is Hardcore” But "Common People", their 1995 tale of class, sex and supermarkets, would define Britpop forever more. This is New British Canon and this is the story of “Common People.”
If you were an indie kid in Britain in the 1980s, there were three main bands. The Smiths, obviously, with Morrissey’s Wildian wit and Johnny Marr’s iconic jangle. New Order, of course, continuing the legacy of Joy Division into more electronic and dance-able territory. And last but not least were the Cocteau Twins. A singular band infused with the swirling effects-assisted guitar textures of Robin Guthrie and the swooning ethereal croon of Elizabeth Fraser. Through their nine-album career, they produced some of the most beautifully haunted music in British alternative including "Wax and Wane", "Sugar Hiccup", "Pearly Dewdrops Drops", "Carolyn's Finger", "Iceblink Luck" and "Cherry-coloured Funk", not to mention their work with This Mortal Coil on "Song to the Siren". But one song amid the chiming splendour of 1984’s Treasure stands out as their key moment, the perfect sum of their dream-pop parts. This is New British Canon and this is the story of “Lorelei”.
Grime is perhaps the most important British musical movement since Britpop. An electronic music formed from equal parts 2-Step Garage, Jungle and Hip-Hop, when it emerged in the early 2000s it was exciting, innovative and entirely the UK’s own thing. Grime had existed before Dizzee Rascal, with artists like Wiley, So Solid Crew, Lethal B and "Pulse X" leading the way, though yet to be named as such, but he was the one that brought it to the masses. His debut single, the jittering grime bounce of “I Luv U” and "The Big Beat"-assisted old school Hip Hop of "Fix Up, Look Sharp" burst the teenager onto the national scene, followed in short order by his Mercury Prize winning Boy In Da Corner album. Fizzing with his energetic yelp, it was what Simon Reynolds’ would later describe as ‘Grime’s “Anarchy In the UK”’; and the scene would soon follow in Dizzee Rascal’s 140BPM sub-low footsteps. But how did this come about? This is New British Canon and this is the story of “I Luv U.”
Perhaps it’s the rain but Britain has produced its fair share of darkly-hued pop groups. From Black Sabbath to Bauhaus, The Cure through to Echo and The Bunnymen and Radiohead, we’re a nation obsessed with gloom. During the 1980s, one band that truly embodied this mood was The Sisters Of Mercy. Fronted by Andrew Eldritch, their only consistent member, the group in their original incarnation mixed loud guitars, dry ice and seriously danceable moodiness to thrilling effect on tracks like "Temple of Love", "Alice" and "No Time to Cry". But it wouldn’t be until 1987’s Floodland, its ridiculously overblown lead single as well as "Lucretia My Reflection" that they proved that goth in inverted commas could indeed assault Top of the Pops. Here they faced off against their former bandmates Wayne Huseey and Craig Adams, now called The Mission and their single "Wasteland". This is New British Canon and this is the story of “This Corrosion.”
British Electropop came down to four main ingredients: Kraftwerk, “I Feel Love,” David Bowie and Punk. With the latter it wasn’t so much the sound as the attitude, the DIY idea that anyone can form a band. While Punk Rock required you to learn how to play guitar chords, with electropop’s synths you only needed one finger to write a song. Gary Numan with His Tubeway Army were the first punks to gain a UK number one with a synthesizer, but he would not be the last. One of the most enduring electropop hits was in 1981 by Soft Cell. Though often painted as a one hit wonder, the duo are so much more, having hits with "Bedsitter", "Torch", "Say Hello, Wave Goodbye" and "What!" as well as influencing everything from Pop, Darkwave, Industrial and Dance music in their wake. This is New British Canon and this is the story of “Tainted Love.”
Between 1993 and 1997, music in Britain was dominated by the reign of Britpop. Copying the Small Faces and Kinks was back in vogue, everyone had a vested interest in championing either Blur or Oasis and the charts were infested with acts with names like Shed 7, Sleeper and Menswear. Emerging amongst this flag-waving rabble were the grungy, glam-splattered post punks known as Placebo. Fronted by the all-too sexual Brian Molko, they singularly led a charge against the backward-facing Britpop movement with rock music that thrilled, shocked and flirted in equal measure with songs like "Bruise Pristine," "Teenage Angst", "36 Degrees," "Pure Morning," "Every You Every Me" & "The Bitter End." But the most iconic and sleaziest of their 90s singles, "Nancy Boy," challenged gender roles and left a trail of bodily fluids in its wake. This is New British Canon and This is the Story of “Nancy Boy.”
Portishead did not want to be pop stars, they didn’t do interviews, rarely wanted to play live, they didn’t play the game. Yet their debut album, Dummy, quickly became one of the best selling albums of 1995, but not everyone understood what the Bristolian combo were trying to achieve. They stood in stark contrast to the contemporaneous Britpop moment, moody, modern and a supremely British take on American Hip Hop. On tracks like "Sour Times" and "Roads," they were beyond merely background music. The contrast between Geoff Barrow’s retrofuturist beats and Beth Gibbons’ conflicted vocals is best shown on the atmospheric heartache of their third single. This is New British Canon and this is the story of “Glory Box.”
When you think of the first London wave of punk, most minds go to The Damned, The Sex Pistols and Clash. But just as essentially, there was also X-Ray Spex. They stood out, not least because of their saxophonist and the addition of reggae, pop and electronic flourishes to their version of punk. Contrasting the influx of white boys with guitars, the Spex’s lead singer was Poly Styrene: a woman of colour, 4 foot 5, with braces on her teeth and varyingly dressed in a neon bin bag or as a toy soldier. Unfounded rumours circulated about her being a trained opera singer, yet her forceful vocal acted as a shout-along rallying cry to all that heard her. Their legacy all started with their crucial debut single, an increasingly evident entry for the most influential punk 7” ever. This is New British Canon and this is the story of “Oh Bondage Up Yours!”
British Pop at the turn of the century was in a state. Spice Girls had been and gone, All Saints were still on top, but for the most part the focus was on personalities being used to sell the songs rather than the actual music. There was an overreliance on covers and trying to cash in on what was popular. Compared to the slinky American R&B of Destiny’s Child, TLC and Aaliyah or the Max Martin-backed confections of Britney Spears, N*Sync and The Backstreet Boys, Britain's crop sounded undeniably cheesy. But in 2002 Richard X appeared. A producer with a thing for synergising classic synth-pop with 90s R&B, and he, along with the Sugababes, a teen-girl group on the edge of collapse, revitalised British Pop with his ice-cool underground sounds. This is New British Canon and this is the story of Sugababes “Freak Like Me.”
In 1980 Depeche Mode arrived; Kids armed with synths and squeaky bubblegum tunes. By the end of the decade they had twenty UK top 40 hits and had grown progressively darker, moodier and more industrial, but still pop. However in the US they were not mainstream, known mostly by listeners of anglophile college radio DJs and seen along with The Smiths, Cure, New Order and XTC as “alternative.” This cult appeal had made them one of the biggest US concert draws of the late 1980s, but they couldn't back that up in album sales. 1990's Violator would change that. And alongside “Personal Jesus,” its second single would solidify that after a decade as a band they could have the biggest songs of their career, defining Modern Rock-crossover hits in the process. This is New British Canon and This is the story of "Enjoy the Silence."
In 1996 pure-pop was dead in the water. Somewhat diluted versions of alternative rock and dance music dominated the charts. In the UK, Boy Bands like Take That and East 17 were the last vestiges of chart-pop’s once great kingdom, slowly being eroded by the Oasises and Blurs of Britpop. But then the Spice Girls barged their way in: a last hope and massive gamble. For the previous ten years, Bananarama and Eternal aside, girl groups didn’t sell. The accepted wisdom being that the main audience for chart-pop was little girls and they were only obsessed with boy bands. But kitschy, campy and fun compared to their straight-faced boy-band peers, the combination of Scary, Sporty, Baby, Posh, and Ginger were about to change everything. This is New British Canon and this is the story of “Wannabe.”
After OK Computer, British guitar music kind of stalled. Britpop was dead. Travis and Coldplay were there leading the way, with Cast, Embrace and Stereophonics filling the gaps. It was anthemic, aspirational, acoustic but lacked energy and bite. But then the Libertines! Taking notes from The Kinks, Jam, Clash and Strokes they enlivened the British indie scene, singles like “What a Waster” and “Time For Heroes” reveling in reckless abandon, Wildian lyricism and tales about rock’n’roll valhalla. But by their first NME cover, the band were disintegrating under a wave of drugs, arrests and punchups. This is New British Canon and this is the story of “Can’t Stand Me Now.”
Stuck between the studied indie of The Smiths and the stadium-bothering rock of U2, Echo and The Bunnymen were one of a kind. Shackled with one of the oddest names in post-punk, but yet adored by the UK music press, their psychedelic yet doom-infused first three albums set them up as one of the most exciting bands in Britain, with singles like “Rescue,” “A Promise,” and “The Cutter” slowly gaining them higher chart placings and a more rabid fanbase. But on the cusp of the mainstream, with the potential to be the biggest band of the 1980s, they went to France, changed their sound and put all their faith in a song their singer heard in a dream. This is New British Canon and this is the story of “The Killing Moon.”
Before PJ Harvey was a solo artist, they were the best rock band Britain had produced since The Clash. Amongst the shoegazers, janglepoppers and the last strains of baggy, PJ Harvey were Britain’s shining blues-punk hope, showing that we had alternative music just as vis-ceral, vital and loud as American grunge. With their first album, the three-piece stampeded their way into the ample praises of NME, Spin and Rolling Stone. But their 1993 major label debut stretched the limits of how violent, uncomfortable and darkly humorous a mainstream album could be; its title-track the unlikely duality of unforgiving fury and unrepentant desire. This is New British Canon and this is the story of “Rid Of Me.”
In its original form, Synth-pop looked toward the future. Musicians making a guess at what the 21st Century would sound like. But in the 2010s, music at large just wanted to recycle what had happened 40 years ago. In bringing a forward thinking approach to dance-pop, UK Producer SOPHIE was different. Unwilling to follow the constraints of old and obsessed with the purest of pop, SOPHIE’s bouncing metallic second single laid the groundwork for Bubblegum Bass, Hyperpop and some of the most inventive chart-pop production in recent memory. But was the world ready for the future of pop music? This is New British Canon and this is the story of “Bipp.”
As you may know from watching New British Canon: 90s Britain was consumed by Britpop. But Running parallel to this, featuring louder guitars, more working class backgrounds and championed by Kerrang! was Britrock. Awkwardly wedged between these groups, Skunk Anansie evaded all classification. Led by their physically slight yet vocally colossal lead singer Skin, the band were a riotous mix of hard rock, dub and punk. Their social consciousness made it so they were always fighting an uphill battle, but their defiant music and live presence couldn’t be ignored. This is New British Canon, and this is the story of “Weak.”
Britain is not known for its soul music. But in the 1980s there was a nostalgic wave of British acts that were enthralled by the sound: Phil Collins was covering the Supremes, Soft Cell and Dexys Midnight Runners were in love with obscure R&B 45s and there was an influx of white-fronted plastic soul groups like Spandau Ballet, ABC and late era Roxy Music. But adding some legitimacy and heat to the mix was Sade. Their debut album Diamond Life defined the 80s for many, its warm sensuality the soundtrack for many an intimate moment, while singles like “Your Love Is King,” “When am I Going to Make a Living?” and “The Sweetest Taboo” quiet-stormed the charts. But who was this band? This is New British Canon and this is the story of “Smooth Operator.”
All the first wave UK Punk Bands had their own take/style on the genrething. The Sex Pistols were the troublemakers. The Clash were the political ones. Buzzcocks championed indie and pop-punk. But Siouxsie and the Banshees throughout their career were many things. Incompetent noisemerchants. Cold wave innovators. Jet black pop darlings. But most see them as the designers of gothic rock, even if the band hated the association. 1981’s Juju is their darkest, bleakest release, with tales of voyeurism, murder and shadowy magic, shot through with the fluid post-punk invention of guitarist John McGeoch. But yet it also features the band at their most pop, Siouxsie Sioux’s melodious siren call entrancing the Top of the Pops crowd as well as her Sioux-ettes. This is New British Canon and this is the story of “Spellbound.”
By 1997 Britpop was winding down. But Brit Rock had a new wave of bands that preferred heaviness to cribbing from the Beatles. Amongst this lot were Feeder, framed as the plucky underdogs. At first dubbed the “British Smashing Pumpkins”, Feeder hit the scene delivering grunge-affected heavy pop gems imbued with heart, charm and nostalgia for better days. Though they would score twenty Top 40 singles, their 2001 hit about a brand new car would be the one that remains glued in the national consciousness, in spite of their frontman’s enduring indifference to it. This is New British Canon, and this is the story of “Buck Rogers.”
Van Halen’s David Lee Roth once said: “Rock critics love Elvis Costello because rock critics look like Elvis Costello.” When he first appeared on Top of the Pops in September 1977, beyond Buddy Holly and Hank Marvin, there had been few rock stars with the nerd aesthetics of Elvis Costello. Though much too musically competent to be truly punk, he possessed a tongue bathed in acid and a remarkable ability to turn a phrase. But while this Angry Young Man persona made him a star, it would also destroy him. This is New British Canon and this is the story of “Radio Radio.”
For those that adored the Manic Street Preachers in the early 90s, no other band will ever compare. At first mixing political rhetoric and literary wit with populist glam punk, they kicked back against the impartial shoegaze, baggy and acid House scenes, and, for the first time since the Smiths, they felt like a British band that actually had something to say. Their masterwork 1994’s The Holy Bible, formed of dark metallic post-punk, tangled head on with the worst impulses of human-kind, masterminded by their driving force “guitarist,” Richey Edwards. But if one gazes too deeply into the abyss, there is a chance that person might get lost. This is New British Canon and this is the story of The Holy Bible. “4 stone 7 pounds”
The British Indie Disco has a long tradition. Dating back to the days of Orange Juice and New Order, through The Stone Roses and Happy Mondays, it was Guitar Pop that moved you, that you could dance to. But after the death of Britpop there was little to groove to. You can sway and sob to Coldplay, you can do a hyperactive pogo to The Libertines but you can’t dance. In 2004 Franz Ferdinand reignited this shimmying fire by again colliding jangle and funk. And they did so with the best love as a battlefield metaphor this side of Pat Benatar. This is New British Canon and this is the story of “Take Me Out.”
In the 70s, there was metal - Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple. And then there was punk, Sex Pistols, The Clash, The Damned. Two separate entities that rarely if ever mixed. However a band both subcultures could agree on was Motörhead. Led by the hoarse rumble of Lemmy, with their first three albums they cemented their place as one of the loudest bands Britain has ever produced. But the lead single from their fourth album proved they could be metal heavy, mangle it with a punk attitude and still be able to crossover to the pop charts. This is New British Canon and this is the story of "Ace of Spades."
The mid-80s was make-or-break time for Kate Bush. Since her breakthrough in 1978, she’d been gradually alienating her fans with successive ambitious but non-commercial left turns. As such, her label EMI was seriously concerned for her future as a pop artist. However, that all changed in 1985. She returned after 18 months at her farmhouse recording studio with her weirdness intact and a song about Faustian-deals, body swapping and the power of love. And it saved her career. This is New British Canon and this is the story of “Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God).”
Even amongst the ragamuffins and likely lads of the UK Punk scene, Ian Dury stood out. In his late 30s, with his left arm and leg withered from Polio, and in love with Stax, Motown and free jazz - But that is also what made him transcend. Aided by the funk-punk backing of the Blockheads, his acerbic Estuary wit was on full display on the band's only UK number one, an around the world jaunt that takes in Bingo Lingo, James Brown and the universal appeal of copulation. This is New British Canon and this is the story of “Hit Me with Your Rhythm Stick.”
If 2004 was the year of Franz Ferdinand for the NME crowd, then 2005 was all about Bloc Party. With razor sharp guitarwork, disco beats and Kele Okereke’s anguished yelp, they brought the indie set heartache you could dance to. In spite of studio issues, Gang of Four comparisons and feuds with Britpop elderstatesmen, with Silent Alarm Bloc Party unleashed one of the most exciting British debuts of the decade. A reaction to the reductive boring rock’n’roll surrounding them, they added life, vitality and whatever they could find into their jagged yet sensitive post-punk. This is New British Canon and this is the story of “Banquet.”
For most of the 90s, Aphex Twin ran counter to what was happening in mainstream dance music. He was messing with low-key ambience during the forceful Eurodance of “Rhythm is a Dancer.” Moved to harsh industrial noise as Europe was smitten by the dreamy trance of Robert Miles’ “Children.” And when Prodigy and Chemical Brothers ruled the roost, Aphex Twin was attempting to rupture drum and bass with rapid stuttered software-programmed beats. The Aphex Twin story is similarly antagonistic, filled with fabrication, half-truths and provocation pried from the man himself. Did he own a tank, live in a bank and do a DJ set using solely sandpaper and a food mixer? Quite possibly, but picking through everything he’s said for the presence of truth is a foolish exercise. The legend is more fun than the bedroom-based music geek reality. This is New British Canon and this is the story of “Windowlicker.”
Though it had been bubbling under for 18 months, the end of 1976 was when UK punk got its first seven inches. The Sex Pistols’ “Anarchy in the UK” may have generated the most outrage, but The Damned’s “New Rose” got there first. While they may have fired the first shot, The Damned ran counter to many of the key tenets of punk. Their songs dealt with the personal rather than the political, they didn’t instantly disregard all music before 1976 and they could actually play their instruments. They were outcasts, set adrift by the punk powers that be, yet one of the most vital and interesting bands of the era. This is New British Canon and this is the story of “New Rose.”
Founded in 2003, MySpace forever changed how music was promoted. For the first time, artists had a way of sharing their music online with a direct link to their fans. It led to an explosion of creativity and major label deals, with artists going from nobodies to pop stars seemingly overnight. Lily Allen was one such artist. Her words were jaded yet mischievous, painting stories of disappointing lovers, messy breakups and inexpert pickup artists, built on a foundation of reggae-pop, drum n’ bass and grime. By album two she was more than aware of the un-reality of pop stardom, and set out to bring it down from the inside. This is New British Canon and this is the story of “The Fear.”
Few modern rock bands have had the near immediate success of Wet Leg. Earning ungainly comparisons to Pavement, Liz Phair and The B-52s thanks to their deadpan talk-singing, Wet Leg’s musical formula was simple: loud guitars, fun times and not taking yourself too seriously. A welcome change of pace from the dour post-Brexit post-punk surrounding them. Released in the Summer of 2021, their buzzy debut single blended innuendo, Mean Girls references and French furniture to thrilling effect, perhaps even signalling a new dawn for UK rock. This is New British Canon and this is the story of “Chaise Longue.”
When MTV first launched, there simply weren’t enough music videos to fill their 24 hour format. This forced the young channel to take a chance on previously-unknown-in-the-US artists to fill time, including A Flock of Seagulls, Adam and the Ants, The Buggles, U2, Spandau Ballet & Visage. It paid off: within a couple of years a whole wave of videogenic British New Pop bands would take over the Billboard Chart, almost single-handedly creating what was called The Second British Invasion. But even in the age of MTV, The Eurythmics were striking. Annie Lennox's orange close-cropped hair and sleek tailored suit stood apart from other female pop stars of the time. The swirling darkness of their breakthrough single would define the sound of the 80s forever more. This is New British Canon and this is the story of “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This).”
If you’ve heard of the KLF, you probably know them as a band that burnt a million pounds. But that is only the conclusion to their story. The journey that led them to the Isle of Jura on that fateful August morning in 1994 is even more fascinating. A journey that includes getting sued by ABBA, gaining a number one single in the guise of a talking car, pioneering at least one genre of dance music and becoming one of the most successful singles bands of the early 90s. They were two men compelled by the forces of chaos to spread as much confusion as possible and they transformed that into a pop career. This is New British Canon and this is the Story of The KLF.
As a sub-genre, girl groups have gifted us with so many moments of pop perfection. For the most part these were groups assembled by a producer for the purpose of creating chart hits with little musical input from the performers. But formed in 1981, Bananarama were different. Spurred on by the DIY ethos of punk and the out-there fashion of the New Romantics, they hit the scene in Doc Martens, dungarees and bird-nest hair, self-possessed and spewing hits. A bevy of early covers would make way for some of the finest British pop of the 1980s - their calling card a scorching dog day confection infused with shambolic dance moves and the mother of all marimba lines. This is New British Canon and this is the Story of “Cruel Summer.”
Peter Gabriel has inhabited many roles. From a costumed prog poet in Genesis to a conservationist balladeer on the Wall-E soundtrack. However his run of self-titled albums are where he found himself as a musician. On his third album in 1980, he took all the post punk, synth pop and world music happening around him and blended it into his twitchy lopsided art rock. Gabriel spun tales of mental health disarray and anthems of dissatisfaction, and, with help from a French game show and Kate Bush, whistled his way to one of his biggest hits. This is New British Canon and This is the Story of “Games Without Frontiers.”
XTC burst out of late 1970s Britain with hooks for days. While many of the punk bands around them proudly ignored anything before 1976, they took notes from The Beatles, Kinks, and Beach Boys and reformed them into pugnacious state-of-the-art pop. “Making Plans For Nigel,” “Generals and Majors” and “Senses Working Overtime” made their unique stamp on the UK Charts. But when XTC stopped playing live in 1982, their career took a much more interesting turn. Unable to sell their Englishness to the UK, instead via calamitous recording sessions with Todd Rundgren and a dismissed b-side, XTC landed a punch squarely below the Bible Belt. This is New British Canon, and this is the story of “Dear God.”
Emerging out of the embers of Joy Division, New Order spent the 1980s smashing together the worlds of punk and disco. In 1983 they gave the world a shuddering party starter that took elements from Black Gay club music, Giorgio Moroder, Kraftwerk, Spaghetti Westerns and British melancholy. Such a revolution in sound that “Blue Monday” perhaps became the biggest selling 12 inch single of all time. Perhaps, because the myths surrounding “Blue Monday” are belligerent and numerous, impeded by each member of the band having conflicting accounts of their 1980s. Many of the rumours and legends about the song are provably wrong, and yet still persist. It may be the song to get indie kids to the dancefloor, but what do we really know about this 7 and half minute groove-automaton? This is New British Canon and this is the story of “Blue Monday.”
On paper, Pet Shop Boys are an unlikely pop behemoth. A former pop journalist and an architecture student, their first hit, “West End Girls,” had their thirty-year-old middle-class British frontman embodying Grandmaster Flash. Starting off as what could’ve quite easily remained a one-hit wonder, they defined British synth pop in the late 1980s, combining the cutting edge of dance music with their intelligent self-reflective lyricism. By 1987 they had hit their imperial phase with a song that attacked the Catholic Church with Hi-NRG bombast and extraneous countdowns. This is New British Canon and this is the story of "It’s a Sin”.
There was a time when the British Music Press had absolute power. Punk, C86, Madchester, Grunge, Britpop, and The New Rock Revolution were all invented and made famous within the pages of NME, Sounds and Melody Maker. But trends are fickle. Once the press got bored of a certain sound or scene, they quickly moved on to the next one, viciously mocking what they were promoting weeks before. Many bands’ careers ended prematurely. Slowdive had approximately six months of next-big-thing write-ups and glowing praise before they were exiled. In came Grunge and Shoegaze was suddenly not cool. For the rest of their initial three album run, they were critically kicked, punched and spat on by journalists. They were the enemy of the NME, and deemed monstrous by Melody Maker. Despite creating some of the most beautiful euphoric music of the 1990s, they were the most hated indie band in Britain. This is New British Canon, and this is the Story of “When The Sun Hits.”
At first, Blur were a band that prided themselves on their Britishness. They wrote keenly observational pop songs about 18-30 Holidays, The Shipping Forecast, Sunday Lunch and the Quiet Frustrations of Everyday British Life. In Britain, it made them heroes. But in the US they were nobodies. So it was quite the surprise that midway through the 90s, they made an about-face and unleashed a screaming chunk of Apple Pie-scented Grunge rawk, the key modern jock jam. But how did they get there? Why was a jumbo jet involved? And was it just a joke aimed squarely to whom it appealed? This is New British Canon and this is the Story of “Song 2.”
1984 was a particularly flamboyant year for British Pop. “Relax” overcame its radio ban to spend five weeks at UK number one. George Michael alluded to his future solo aspirations with “Careless Whisper.” Pete Burns’ Dead Or Alive proved the combination of Hi NRG and Stock Aitken Waterman equalled chart-success. And Freddie Mercury dressed in drag for the “I Want to Break Free” video. But aside from the two core members of Frankie Goes to Hollywood, most of these men were living some kind of closeted existence. However, also debuting in 1984 were Bronski Beat. Fronted by Jimmy Somerville, a Scottish socialist with the voice of a disco diva packed within his buzz cut 5 foot 4 frame, they were three openly gay men writing honestly about their lives. Their melancholic debut single is a synth-pop escape, from a smalltown and its small minds, with its destination simply being somewhere better, both for themselves and LGBTQ+ Pop. This is New British Canon and This is the Story of “Smalltow