“Can you imagine being in potentially – right now, still – the coolest band in the world, and not doing it because you’re in a mard with your brother?” he argued. “Grow up, headline Glastonbury, have a good time.”
Indeed, at no point since their acrimonious 2009 split has the time been so perfect for an Oasis reunion. You see, Britpop has become a form of generational wonder warfare. The most highly evolved Gen-Zers have developed a reflex howl of “OK Boomer!”, triggered whenever the older generations – mistyeyed behind their Lennon shades, and testing the seams of their vintage Fred Perry shirts – start banging on about the Nineties as a golden age of British pop culture. Force the average 2020s teenager to yet again hear about Sunday’s NME stage lineup at Glastonbury 1994 – Oasis, Blur, Pulp, Radiohead, and Echobelly! – and they might roll their eyes clean out of their heads.
If Britpop gets endlessly lauded as a champagne supernova of good times, it’s only because so many of us can say we were there. The sad truth is, Britain has a long and frustrating history of missing out on its own pop culture revolutions. The stadium excesses of Beatlemania mostly took place in America.
For Beatles fans in Britain – where, beyond their theatre tours, the band played only one 15-minute arena gig at Wembley Pool for the 1966 NME Poll Winners’ Party – they were a largely televised phenomenon. The various late-Sixties summers of love were American affairs too, taking over Haight-Ashbury and Woodstock. In the UK, you had to have been a very early Pink Floyd fan, one of the 40 or so groovers in the studio for The Beatles’ “All You Need is Love” satellite broadcast, or a Kensington trust funder letting Jimi Hendrix crash on your sofa to say you’d really “lived” the Age of Aquarius.
Esta historia es de la edición August 26, 2024 de The Independent.
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