Origin Story · Volume 26 · BRITPOPIntroduction
The Golden Age Business
Every genre in this series was named by somebody who was not in it. Usually the name arrives late, sticks awkwardly, and gets resented. What makes this volume different is that the naming was not an accident of journalism. It was the product line.
Here is the shortest honest version of what happened. Between 1993 and 1997, a group of British guitar bands (most of them very good, some of them merely well placed) were assembled by the country’s music press into a national story about a second golden age of English pop. The assembly was not a conspiracy and it was not a fraud. It was a business requirement. Britain had two surviving weekly music papers, each of which had to produce a new front cover every seven days, each of which was losing readers to glossier monthly magazines that wrote about records made twenty years earlier, and each of which understood (because it had done this before) that a movement sells papers in a way that nine unrelated bands do not.
The papers did not invent the bands. Nobody at a newspaper wrote the records described in Movement Three, and this book will spend a movement taking those records seriously as records, because they deserve it. What the papers manufactured was the frame: the sense that these bands constituted a single thing, that the thing was a war between two of them, and that the war mattered to the nation. And the remarkable fact, the fact this whole book hangs on, is that the frame worked so well it escaped. In August 1995 the question of which of two guitar bands would have the number one single was reported on the national television news, between items about actual events. No weekly music paper had ever pushed a story that far before. None ever did again.
The punk volume of this series has a chapter about the British music weeklies of 1977. There were four of them then, and the argument of that chapter was that they were the reason the British version of punk became the version everyone knows: four papers in competition could turn two hundred people in London into a national argument in six weeks. This volume picks that machine up sixteen years later, and finds it in trouble. Two of the four papers are dead. The survivors have watched their circulation slide for a decade and a half while a new kind of monthly magazine (born with the compact disc, aimed at the readers who had grown up and bought hi-fis) takes the older audience and the advertising with it. A machine built for discovering scenes has a new and more urgent need: to make the scene happen, visibly, on its own front pages, at weekly intervals.
The introduction runs on for another 8 paragraphs, and then the book starts. 25 chapters · about 120 pages · $14.99
