The Best Britpop Albums of the '90s

The fastest-selling UK debut of its day arrived on Creation in August 1994 with a tracklist that reads like a set of standards. 'Live Forever' is the thesis — working-class optimism sung upward, Noel Gallagher writing hooks his brother could sneer into anthems. Britpop's big bang, and the rare debut with no filler argument to lose.

'Wonderwall' stalled at UK No. 2 and conquered the planet anyway; the album around it became one of Britain's best sellers ever. Creation released (What's the Story) Morning Glory? in October 1995, mid-feud with Blur, and won the war that mattered — the long one. Sneer at the ubiquity if you like; these songs were built to outlast the sneer.

Four Brit Awards in one night for Food Records' flagship: Parklife, where Damon Albarn's character studies got a whole fairground of styles to live in. 'Girls & Boys' opens the case with a disco bassline and a package-holiday sociology lecture; Phil Daniels's title-track cameo does the rest. Britpop's art-school wing at full sail.

Fifteen years of obscurity, then this: Pulp's Island breakthrough won the 1996 Mercury Prize and gave the movement its sharpest lyric sheet. 'Common People' — held off UK No. 1 by a covers act, unforgivably — is class warfare you can dance to, Jarvis Cocker enunciating like a knife show. The smartest record Britpop ever produced.

Nude Records released the debut that started the gold rush — 1993 Mercury Prize winner, and the fastest-selling UK debut since Frankie Goes to Hollywood a decade earlier. 'Animal Nitrate' put glam androgyny and council-estate seediness back on Top of the Pops in one three-minute swoop. Before Britpop had a name, Suede had drawn its silhouette.

Food's David Balfe rejected the first version for lacking a single, so Damon Albarn went home over Christmas and wrote 'For Tomorrow' — la-la-las about London that became the movement's founding document. Modern Life Is Rubbish (1993) is Blur inventing Englishness-as-genre a year before anyone was ready for it. The manifesto that preceded the victory lap.

Bernard Butler quit mid-sessions, and the friction produced Nude's towering anomaly: Dog Man Star, Britpop's anti-Britpop epic — orchestral, paranoid, nocturnal while the scene partied. 'The Wild Ones' is the era's grandest ballad, Brett Anderson holding the final chorus like a dare. The cult favorite that long ago outgrew the cult.

Deceptive released the debut that outpaced everyone — the fastest-selling UK debut yet, taking the crown from Definitely Maybe. Elastica's 'Connection' borrows Wire's 'Three Girl Rhumba' riff brazenly enough that Wire settled out of court; this site's Punk '70s list holds the source. Two minutes of art-punk economy per song, no wasted motion anywhere.

Parlophone signed a band barely out of school and got the era's most caffeinated debut: I Should Coco, 1995. 'Alright' — UK No. 2 — is teenage joy played at teenage tempo, piano bouncing like a cartoon. Supergrass were the scene's least pretentious export, which is exactly why the songs never dated. Youth, bottled at the source.

A borrowed orchestral phrase cost Richard Ashcroft every royalty from 'Bitter Sweet Symphony' until Jagger and Richards returned the credit in 2019 — pop's longest-running invoice, finally voided. Hut released Urban Hymns in 1997 as Britpop's comedown record: strings, space, and a band (see their first act on the Shoegaze '90s list) finally cashing in its patience.

A band completing itself in public: the first Manics album after Richey Edwards vanished in 1995, with five of his lyric sheets still in the songs. Epic released it in May 1996; 'A Design for Life' opens on a string figure and a library slogan and became Wales's alternate anthem. Best British Album at the 1997 Brits — grief carried into triumph.

Named for the year Star Wars came out and two of them were born, Ash's Infectious debut arrived while Tim Wheeler was barely past his A-Levels. 'Girl from Mars' is the perfect teenage single — surf-flecked, lovesick, gone inside three minutes. Northern Ireland's contribution to the party, played twice as fast as the hosts managed.

Superior Quality Recordings — the Bluetones' own imprint — knocked Morning Glory off UK No. 1 in February 1996, a giant-killing nobody remembers because the giants wrote the histories. 'Slight Return' (UK No. 2) is jangle perfected, a guitar figure like a stone skipping and a chorus that never oversells its hand. The scene's most quietly durable debut.

John Power left The La's, formed Cast, and handed Polydor the biggest-selling debut in the label's history. All Change (1995) plays Merseybeat classicism completely straight; 'Alright' — yes, the other 'Alright' of 1995 — is chiming, four-square, and impossible to dislodge once heard. Britpop's traditionalist wing, built exactly to code and proud of the code.

Keyboardist Rob Collins died in a car crash mid-recording, and the Charlatans finished Tellin' Stories around the loss with Primal Scream's Martin Duffy stepping in — Beggars Banquet released it in 1997. 'North Country Boy' reached UK No. 4, a Dylan-titled shrug of a single with the band's Hammond soul intact. Survivors' rock; every ounce of the warmth is earned.