Noel Gallagher on the only good English bands of the 2000s: “The last two”
The 1990s were a long time ago now. Britpop’s peak was 30 years ago and counting, and the UK music scene hasn’t enjoyed such swaggering chart confidence since the 2000s—what with indie fooling enough of the NME office and the broader country’s press into pining after ‘Cool Britannia’ while believing they were witnessing the spiritual successor of the Naughty Nineties.
There’s nothing revolutionary in trashing landfill indie and the homogeneity of what was deemed alternative in the decade’s dark days, but it can’t be overstated just how clogged MTV2 was with beige boys playing beige guitars.
Oasis’s Noel Gallagher can always be trusted for an honest take on the day’s issues. More than anyone of the eclectic era known as Britpop, Gallagher was a much-worshipped idol of the new kids of indie, unwittingly finding his working-class anthems scored with a little of The Who, Sex Pistols, and a dash of glam the likes of The Pigeon Detectives or The Enemy were wholly indebted to. But what did the principal songwriter of the ‘Big-O’ think of the Topman’s in-store radio’s heyday?
Not much. In fact, Gallagher spoke candidly about the dearth of quality bands during that era, only highlighting two UK rock acts who cut the mustard in his estimation. “The last two great bands to come out of England were Kasabian and the Arctic Monkeys, and that was over ten years ago now,” Gallagher told Portland Mercury in 2012. “And in ten years, England hasn’t produced, never mind a great band, not even a good one. It’s sad if you think about England as the centre of the musical universe—no great bands in ten years. What a load of shit.”
The Arctic Monkeys and Kasabian’s kudos will either trigger vigorous approval or eye-rolling fatigue from those who see the two as the paragons of UK rock or the most gratuitous examples of overrated indie residue, respectively. The Arctic Monkeys have proven themselves to be a creatively intrepid unit that began exploring a myriad of other genres while indie was growing stale. This was attractive due to frontman Alex Turner’s deep respect for classic songwriting grounded in narrative universalism—inspired by the works of Noël Coward as much as Leon Russell or John Cooper Clarke.
Leicester’s Kasabian certainly drifted off to become Carling-soaked V Festival fodder, but there’s magic to be found in their 2004 eponymous debut. Perhaps owing to founding guitarist Christopher Karloff’s influence prior to his departure, Kasabian cut a unique mark in the UK alternative charts at the time—an adrenalin-shot slice of psychedelia coated in crunchy electronics. Kind of like a post-punk Pink Floyd, if you will. It all got a bit silly from Empire, but their debut is an LP that’s become lost amid the later albums’ corporate fug.
For those not intoxicated with Xfm’s indie gloop, music’s pioneers could be found in the country’s grime scenes, exploding across London—whether it was the neo-soul revival led by Amy Winehouse or the litany of DnB and dubstep dominating the underground.
But for better or worse, Gallagher’s ultimate measure of success was the rockist veneration for the band and their conquering of the mainstream: “There are a thousand great records written a day that nobody owns. I still think bands should aim to be The Beatles, not fucking, I don’t know, Pavement.”
