I have written before about the rampant Anglophilia that infected much of my youth. For a large quotient of the music community, it has continued unabated; note the how often serious musos read heavy British music journals like ‘Q’ & ‘Mojo’, while they have nothing but contempt for North American rags like ‘Blender’ and ‘Chart’.

Still, you have to hand it to the British; their bands have a real flair for pop songs. We have lots of good bands in Canada, but anyone looking for pop froth will find it heavy going amongst the likes of Billy Talent and Finger 11. The grey streets of England seem to produce a yearning for escapism that Canadians just don’t seem capable of. Even Canadian ‘pop’ bands like the New Pornographers or Stars are a bit too realistic for those who love Britpop.

I was living in Barrie when Britpop, that early 90’s burst of English power pop, burst on the scene. I still have a soft spot for Barrie. Even though I was a massive square peg there, people were nice to me. Friendly, yes, ‘cool, definitely not. Swinging London it wasn’t. I spent an inordinate amount of time talking to the owner of the local used record store, drinking coffee with various artists, and walking around the Victorian streets, listening to the first portable CD player I ever owned. ‘I Should Coco’, Supergrass’s debut came out around this time, and I listened to it a thousand times. Nothing stuck better than ‘Alright’.  Never a hit in North America, it has been used for dozens of advertisements. Go download it, and marvel that anyone could have ever been that young and happy.

Super Furry Animals come from the same era as the Britpop stars Oasis and Blur, but genre wise they live in their own little world. Self-consciously psychedelic, (whatever that means), their music is dense, complex and full of noises and solos. The band is unbelievably prolific, recording dozens of singles and B-sides, including a number in Welsh, their native tongue. The only North American equivalent I can think of is the Flaming Lips. They certainly share a refined sense of the visual, a loyalty to living in the middle of nowhere, and a certain oddness that verges on disturbing. They also share a complete indifference to commercialism that has (ironically) garnered them both huge worldwide cult followings. ‘The Man Don’t Give A ***’ was one of the Furry’s bigger hits, and is reasonably representative of their unique approach to making music. I am fonder of ‘(Drawing) Rings Around The World’, which is about as close as they get to a pure pop sound. It takes a bit of listening - the song is absolutely drenched in feedback and other found noises, but there is brilliance in there somewhere.

The Smiths are not really Britpop, coming from an altogether darker era, but they are the epitome of the sort of British pop band that are waaaayyyy to English for North American tastes. Lead singer Morrissey still has a huge cult following, and co-writer Johnny Marr has recently been reborn as an American rock star in Modest Mouse. The Smiths’ songs are pretty unique in the pop canon. Morrissey wrote weird little short stories, which despite bothering little with rhyme or meter, he was somehow able to turn into very effective lyrics. A truly shit adolescence gave him grist for a million songs, and in Marr he found a guitarist capable of translating it all into something listenable. Every depressed gay teenager has a favourite Smiths song, and despite being neither of those, I absolutely love ‘This Charming Man’. A rather sordid tale of a brief liaison, Morrissey’s croons the story like a bathroom opera singer, every note dripping his faux melancholy. The chorus, or what passes for one, contains one of the best pop lyrics ever:

 “I’d go out tonight, but I haven’t got a stitch to wear…”

Cracking stuff, I say, old chap and all.