All You Good Good People celebrates the heyday of Britpop with choice slices and deep cuts of unabashed optimism and emotional undercurrents.
ALL YOU GOOD GOOD PEOPLE
Through the haze of Silk Cut cigarette smoke and bottles of Rolling Rock, Britpop emerged as the saviour of a generation; those of us hardy enough to sing love songs over traditional rock riffs and turn the everyday into heavily-accented anthems.
The headlines, of course, belonged to the Burnage boys of Oasis tussling with the eloquent musings of Blur, but there was a much bigger wave building underneath. Elastica and Gene brought sharp songwriting snapshots of life with less fuss and worry, while Dodgy and The Charlatans offered rhythm and groove to sticky pub floors.
Radiohead were finding their ‘space-jazz’ best whilst Longpigs and Ocean Colour Scene provided sing-along acoustic laments of lost love and train rides. Writing here brings back memories of curby, spin-the-bottle, and the growing emergence of the long-lost minidisc player. Cherry Red Records have once again created a narrative, through music, of the mid-to-late 90s, so dig out your best Adidas Sambas and enjoy.
Split over four discs and 80+ tracks, All You Good Good People isn’t a collection of the era’s most obvious hits, but a deeper analysis of the tracks that best tell the tale of the time. This ability to omit some of the more obvious anthems for ones that provide a complete spectrum of the musical era is what sets Cherry Red apart in compiling these collections. There’s a road-less-travelled element throughout, with inclusions like The Auteurs, Northern Uproar and Cornershop. The journey begins in the confident, arm-swinging swagger of 1995 and drifts through millennial contemplation to 1999.
PEAK BRITPOP RUSH
The compilation opens fittingly with Elastica’s Waking Up which kicks things off with sharp angular pop. The jangle of lead riffs and drone of the bass defines the confidence of the sound emerging from 1995, whilst Jarvis Cocker razor-sharp wit in Mis-shapes encapsulates Britpop’s swagger. As the elder statesman of the era, Paul Weller’s Changing Man brings a mod-cool gravitas – the mod revival in the new wave moment. Opening with these tracks on disc one, anchors the compilation’ tone: urgent, hook-driven, unmistakably British.
Deeper cuts like The Weekenders’ Man Of Leisure and Powder’s Aphrodisiac flesh out the scene’s grungier edges, reminding us that there were acts that drove the sound sitting beneath the Union Jack drenched front pages. Dubstar’s No So Manic Now hints at the emotional undercurrents bubbling beneath the surface. Disc one is the perfect scene-setter with vibrant hooks and song writing without exhausting the sound.
BAGGY LIMBS & BLACK GRAPES
No Britpop compilation would be complete without the inclusion of the baggy-era hangover troubadours of Black Grape. Kelly’s Heroes brings the mid-90s Shaun Ryder growl into the mix with his nonsensical yet relatable ramblings out from the distant memories we hold of the time. Ocean Colour Scene’s magnificent Riverboat Song delivers the soulful, communal Wetherspoons sing-along that kept the 11pm pub leavers in fine voice. Disc two captures the moment Britpop began to spread its baggy limbs.
Northern Uproar’s From A Window and Heavy Stereo’s Chinese Burn are road-less-travelled gems that captured the raw Northern energy too often overshadowed by the Burnage brawlers. Luke Haines’ wry literariness shines in Light Aircraft On Fire, while Mantaray’s I Don’t Make Promises offers a forgotten gem of quiet tension. These crate-digging tracks add an often overlooked texture to the Britpop tale.
NATIONAL WORKING CLASS GRIT
Stereophonics’ Local Boy In The Photograph grounds the set in working-class grit, while She’s A Star from James brings some cloud bursting Mancunian optimism. The inclusion of Primal Scream and their track Burning Wheel injects a sufficient helping of psychedelia (and ensuring a full blend of Britishness) showing the eras fringes fraying into the wilder and measured edges of musical expression.
Cornershop – escaping the pitfall of Brimful of Asha – with Good Ship and Corduroy’s The Joker Is Wild are the standout obscurities, blending bhangra grooves and jazz with a mod twist into the indie melting pot. While Glummer from Pimlico and Punka by Kenickie develop the Fujifilm polaroid of a punky, youthful snap that kept the sound fresh and helped extend the era toward the millennium. They support the case that 1997 – 1998 saw the Britpop sound stretch its legs and broaden the horizons of its most ardent followers.
MILLENIUM BUG
Doves’ Here It Comes and the stunning, but beautifully painful Titanic from I Am Kloot are the quiet revelations – moody British introspection that feel like the closing the scene on an era that still shapes the modern musical landscape. Some Kinda Angel from Mojave 3 and Pull The Wires From The Wall by The Delgados maintain the reality that dreamy Shoegaze managed to survive, and was somewhat indifferent to the Britpop swagger.
All You Good Good People by Embrace lends its name perfectly to the compilation but also bottles some of the anthemic yearning for gathering together with bucket hats, Sergio Tachinni zip tops and stonewash Wranglers. One of the Gallagher brothers manages to sneak a backing vocal in with Echo & The Bunnymen’s Nothing Lasts Forever – perhaps a signalling that we are drawing the era to a close. University campuses championed the looser-sounding Whippin’ Piccadilly from Gomez; a rich tale of sprawling train rides through some of the most musically-aware UK cities of the ’90s.
HOME COMING & COMING HOME
In June 1996, a warm British Summer welcomed Euro ’96 on the wave of optimism that washed over this collection of nations. The Lightning Seeds and a couple of football pundits brought a jester clown Britpop anthem to the fore as they penned their plea to some infield success – alas we ended in heartbreak. Music, as it does through all defining eras, was seeping through the fashions and the terraces of UK cities and towns; lusty, loving songwriters were similarly crafting songs that were reminiscent of the hope last seen 30 years prior.
Now, 30 years on, some of those artists listed above either never went away, resurrected in a new form, or continued – like Cast – through the good, the bad and the ugly. It’s testament to not only the music, but the passion of the most ardent music fans, that these artists remain in the conversation still today.
Britpop had the power to bring flags out for all the good reasons: pride, hope and optimism. As the political press opened its arms to scallywags and poets, we drank it all in. There are some crafted omissions here from Cherry Red Records and yet there is nothing really missing. Replaying these tracks reminded me not only of those heady days, but also of the ones we miss that some streaming services now give us access to. This clamshell collection is a perfect time capsule of a pivotal moment for British music. All You Good Good People is out now through Cherry Red Records.
