Was Britpop the Last Cultural Moment We All Shared? Exclusive Interview with Comedian and Britpop Enthusiast Marc Burrows

In his new show, The Britpop Hour, award-winning comedian and music journalist Marc Burrows revisits the swagger, satire, and sociopolitical contradictions of the 90s Britpop era — not just through its bangers, but its broader cultural legacy. The show blends nostalgia with critique, unpacking what Britpop meant for a post-Thatcher generation, how class tensions shaped the scene, and why those fleeting monoculture moments still matter. In this exclusive interview with Cultural Dose, Marc reflects on the lasting imprint of that era, how his views have evolved with time, and whether we’ll ever see another cultural phenomenon that brings everyone together…

What role do you think Britpop played in helping define a post-Thatcher Britain - or in distracting from it?

Britpop was entirely a product of post Thatcher Britain. It couldn’t have happened at any other time. And it existed in opposition to it. There’s a famous quote from John Major, where he described Britain as “the country of long shadows on county [cricket] grounds, warm beer, invincible green suburbs, dog lovers, and—as George Orwell said—old maids bicycling to Holy Communion through the morning mist.” That’s how the establishment saw our country. Britpop was a loose term for an era where young people collectively said “stuff that … this is what Britain is, and this is what it has to be proud of”. It was young people emerging from the slate grey Victorian skies (thanks Moz) of the 80s into a dazzling summer and feeling, finally, that the world was theirs. 

Do you view The Britpop Hour as cultural critique, nostalgia piece, or both?

Absolutely both. I think if it was just one or the other then I’d be letting down the audience who are coming to see it. It can’t just be a nostalgia piece, it can’t just be “hey remember the 90s? Wasn’t Parklife BRILLIANT!?”, it has to examine why we think like that, and the appeal of nostalgia itself. But equally I can’t go full sociology lecture on it. It’s a celebration of the music, and that has to be at the centre or you’re going to feel short changed.

You explore Britpop’s “identity crisis.” What do you think caused that collapse?

Britain’s always had an identity crisis, that’s not a new thing. We’ve always been a nation of the achingly cool and the excruciatingly naff. We’ve got a royal family and an upper class so elite they still get a special role in government just for being posh, and we’ve got a tradition of satire, outsider art and punk that has always seethed underneath it. What’s unique about Britain is an ability to recognise both of those things and point out the absurdity of the contradictions. That’s something that was the core of a band like Blur.

But, undeniably, we’re living in a more divided culture than we were thirty years ago. Partly I think that’s progress — we’re a more progressive, more tolerant society in general. A rising tide that has raised all boats. The problem there, though, is that those feeling the power slip out of their control instinctively lash out, and because they’re powerful and cunning they can punch hard. That’s where we get Brexit. That’s where we get Reform. That’s where we get culture wars, and a middle ground establishment trying to find the balance between the poles instead of fighting back. 

What we’re missing, for the most part, are those moments of cultural unity. Of monoculture. That’s also technological — the way we consume culture has changed so much. The days of everyone watching the same thing on TV on the same day, of 2.5 million people trying to get tickets to the same gig (that was every 15-19 year old in the country trying to go to Knebworth in 1996), of a widely resonant culture … those days are gone. We’re all living in our own bubbles now. And that’s not necessarily a bad thing, all the time. Never before have people been able to find their tribe so easily. But we’ve lost some unity in the process.

You mention working-class grit vs middle-class pretension. How did those tensions play out in the music and media?

Mostly as an excuse to create a “Team A” and “Team B”. The English like nothing more than gamifying something. As usual it turns out it was a lot more complicated than that, and the media and not least the bands themselves were all pretty complicit. Oasis massively played up to the “they’re middle class pricks, we’re working class heros” schtick. It created a very easy narrative though, especially when you look at Blur vs Oasis …  Damon Albarn’s background was solidly middle class. His parents were artists, his dad briefly managed Soft Machine. Alex James and Graham Coxon met at art school (although the former was studying French). The Gallagher’s were properly working class — their dad was a painter and decorator, their mum was a dinner lady. That’s all important context that feeds into the music.

It’s not the whole story though. Both bands were basically penniless in their early era. Both became obscenely wealthy. That’s not how we look at it in Britain though. Both bands had lyrics about unemployment in 1994 - “avoiding all work, cos there’s none available” said Blur’s ‘Girls and Boys’, “Is it worth the aggravation to find yourself a job when there’s nothing worth working for?”, sang Oasis on ‘Cigarettes and Alcohol”. Approaching the same issue from the same side.

Where do Pulp fit in? Jarvis grew up in a pretty rough bit of Sheffield, but he ended up studying art at Central St Martins. Brett Anderson’s dad was a cab driver, but Suede established an image based on decadence and reading Rimbaud. Everything was a lot more fluid, more permeable than we like to think. That’s not as good a story, though.   

That said, it’s naive to think background doesn’t influence the music though. People often put them in terms of Oasis and the Stones … the reality is that Blur were Roxy Music and Oasis were Slade.

How has your perspective changed between experiencing the era firsthand and analysing it now?

That’s the difference between being 14 and 44, isn’t it? At the time I was carried along by it. I was all in. Obsessively reading everything, listening to everything, making connections. Desperately wishing to be on the inside, but since I was a working class kid (there’s that term again … see above) from rural Leicestershire, always feeling slightly apart.

I’m 44 now, though I admit I still look about 12. I can analyse it a lot more, I can try and see the broader context. I’ve got a sociology degree and a career in journalism. That said … I’m not sure any of my 30-year-old opinions are actually that different. I still feel like I’m on the outside looking in, I’m still trying to understand. I’ve probably got a more nuanced take now. And better hair.

Because, ultimately, that’s the power of music, especially the music you discovered as a teenager. It’s still powerfully transformative and transporting. I can still feel the way Parklife made me feel when I first listening to it. I just have to put it on again. I saw Blur at Wembley a few years ago and every single song centred me in the time I first heard it. Every single one. All that context, all that stuff I think I’m being so clever about, it’s melted down by the afterburner of the music as soon as it starts.

Do you think we’ll ever see a musical movement with the same cultural saturation again?

I think about this a lot. And no, I honestly don’t think so. People forget how all-encompassing, era-defining Britpop was. It was on the news! Every teenager in Britain tried to get tickets for Knebworth. I tell a story in the show about being in a British pub in Portugal in 1997 and someone putting the whole of (What’s The Story) Morning Glory on the jukebox and everyone in that pub knowing every single word. I can’t think of a time that’s happened again. Not even someone like Taylor Swift. Partly that’s a technology issue. The way music is consumed has changed so much, the Spotify algorithm is so powerful, it’s almost impossible for something that isn’t broad, bland, algorithmically calculated to appeal to widest demographic to get traction. There are moments like Charli’s BRAT or the Taylor Swift tour, but they’re still only reaching pockets. If you’re 25 you probably listened to BRAT a lot, but your dad probably hated it. In 1995 my dad loved Oasis. Everybody did. We don’t have the infrastructure to support those monoculture moments anymore, they’re vanishingly rare.

I fundamentally believe they can only come from outsider artists, and we’re rebuilding a music industry that has no place for genuine outsiders in its upper echelons

The Britpop Hour will be performed at 6.10pm in Underbelly Bristo Square (Dairy Room) from 30th July – 25th August (not 11th)

For tickets and more information, visit: https://underbellyedinburgh.co.uk/event/the-britpop-hour.