I think we established last week that 1967 was a pretty good year for music. So some of you had the Summer of Love. My generation? We had Britpop.
Yes, OK, maybe it doesn’t quite compare, but it was, in the immortal words, or word, of Supergrass, alright. The sort of music I liked was suddenly in the charts, on daytime radio, in the media. It was a good time to be 17.
The zenith was 20 years ago this weekend, when Pulp conquered Glastonbury. I was there (my first and, to date, only Glastonbury). It felt, however briefly, like we were part of something important. Like this was the way the future was meant to feel.
Or just 20,000 people standing in a field.
But of course, there was more to 1995 than Britpop. What were you listening to?