The Less I Know, the Better- The 10s Part 1
The 2010s were quite the decade for the UK, with everything from London 2012 to Brexit. It was a decade of highs and lows. The world would also lose some musical icons in this decade, but more on that later.
n the early stages of the decade, Britain was experiencing turmoil. A coalition government was formed between the Conservatives and the Liberal Democrats after a hung parliament in 2010, the first such arrangement since the Second World War. This uneasy partnership introduced sweeping austerity measures, triggering widespread public debate and dissatisfaction. The rioting that erupted in 2011, beginning in Tottenham and spreading rapidly across major cities, was one of the first major news stories I remember; it was quite a hostile and frightening time. The unrest wasn’t just about isolated incidents; it highlighted deep social and economic divisions that had been simmering beneath the surface for years. Issues such as unemployment, police-community relations, and youth disenfranchisement came to the fore. Entire communities were left grappling with questions about opportunity, inequality, and representation, while the authorities faced scrutiny over their response.
Against this backdrop, the British public turned to cultural moments for unity and hope. The spectacle of the London 2012 Olympic Games, with its spectacular opening ceremony and celebration of diversity, temporarily lifted the national mood and projected an image of optimism, resilience, and togetherness to the world.
Yet even as Britain celebrated sporting triumphs and cultural milestones, there was an undercurrent of uncertainty. Political debates over austerity measures, immigration, and the country’s place in the European Union set the stage for the historic Brexit referendum in 2016. Internationally, the early 2010s were marked by major news stories, from the devastating earthquake and tsunami in Japan in 2011 and the subsequent Fukushima nuclear disaster, to the Arab Spring uprisings that swept across North Africa and the Middle East, reshaping politics and societies. By the end of the decade, the UK had experienced both unprecedented global attention and deep internal division, and these tensions would inevitably echo through its music, art, and cultural expression.
Music was going through a weird time, too, especially guitar music.
Of course, it was still present, and some of the old guard were still around.
In 2011, Arctic Monkeys unveiled their fourth album, 'Suck It & See', a record that marked a significant shift from the shadowy, brooding textures of 'Humbug'. This new creation was warmer, more confident, and far more refined. It was a moment of clarity, less experimental perhaps, but more focused, more melodically assured, and undeniably more fun in places. The breezy charm of the album was a delightful surprise, a testament to the band's evolution without sacrificing depth or intelligence.
Controversial opinion here: this album is my personal favourite by the band. There's something timeless about it, a certain balance between swagger and vulnerability that hits just right. Alex Turner's lyrics on this record are some of the best he has ever written, witty, wistful, and wrapped in a romanticism that's both sincere and slightly tongue-in-cheek.
Tracks like 'Reckless Serenade' and 'Love Is a Laserquest' are perfect examples of this lyrical sweet spot, Turner’s poetic sensibilities on full display, mixing kitchen-sink realism with aching introspection. 'The Hellcat Spangled Shalalala' walks the line between cryptic and carefree, its title alone a testament to the band’s playful surrealism. And then there’s 'That’s Where You’re Wrong', the album’s closer, which drifts away in a dreamy haze of chiming guitars and melancholic grace, a gentle goodbye that lingers long after the final note. The title itself feels like a subtle message to critics and doubters: “that’s where you’re wrong”, a parting shot and a statement of confidence that encapsulates the album’s spirit.
One of the album’s most memorable and enigmatic moments comes early on with 'Don't Sit Down 'Cause I've Moved Your Chair', a track that channels the darker energy of 'Humbug' but filters it through a more playful, absurdist lens. The song, delivered with a knowing sneer, feels like a tongue-in-cheek ode to danger, mischief, and warped British humour. Turner’s lyrics read like a list of surreal, half-serious warnings, imbuing the track with a kind of strange charisma that’s hard to pin down. It’s gritty and swaggering, yet still self-aware, serving as a perfect bridge between the darker experimentation of the past and the more melodic sensibilities of the rest of the record. While the album as a whole leans toward romance and reflection, 'Don't Sit Down…' is a playful reminder that Arctic Monkeys never lost their edge or their sense of humour.
There’s a romantic, almost cinematic quality that runs through the entire record, not just in the lyrics, but in its overall atmosphere. The production is lush yet restrained, nostalgic without ever sounding retro or derivative. It’s an album that embraces emotion without slipping into melodrama, and shows a band entirely comfortable in their own skin, less concerned with being cool, and more interested in crafting something beautiful. In hindsight, 'Suck It & See' may be one of the most underrated moments in Arctic Monkeys’ discography. Still, for me, it’s their most complete and quietly brilliant work.
Foals would release a second album right at the beginning of the decade, 'Total Life Forever' in 2010, following on from their debut 'Antidotes' which had arrived in 2008. It saw the band shift in sound, always challenging themselves to make something different. Foals sounded like no other band, and this was a trend they would keep up throughout the decade. They were here to stay.
With 'Total Life Forever', Foals moved away from the jittery math-rock of their debut. They embraced a more expansive, atmospheric sound. Tracks like 'Spanish Sahara' showcased their ability to build emotional intensity through slow-burning arrangements and haunting melodies. At the same time, songs like 'Blue Blood' and 'This Orient' proved they could still deliver tight, inventive rhythms. The album marked a creative leap forward and earned them a Mercury Prize nomination, cementing their reputation as one of the UK's most exciting and forward-thinking bands. It wouldn't be their best work of the decade, though; that was still yet to come.
With Oasis now gone, the UK music scene was left with a gaping hole, a need for a new band that could rally the masses and deliver the kind of swaggering, festival-slaying anthems that defined a generation. For many, that band became Kasabian. Arriving on the scene with a heady mix of rock bravado, psychedelic experimentation, and infectious dance beats, Kasabian offered the kind of big, unifying sound that British audiences craved. They weren’t just a band; they became a movement, something you could hang your hat on in an era of uncertainty.
Riding high on the successes of 'West Ryder Pauper Lunatic Asylum' and the singles 'Underdog' and 'Fire,' Kasabian released 'Velociraptor!' with a boldness that intrigued their fans. The album, featuring the singles 'Days Are Forgotten,' 'Goodbye Kiss,' and 'Switchblade Smiles,' was a testament to the band's confidence and their willingness to experiment. 'Velociraptor!' showcased their signature blend of swaggering guitar riffs and danceable synths, weaving in influences from glam, Britpop, and even spaghetti-western soundtracks. The record is packed with festival-ready choruses and the kind of riffs that demand to be played at maximum volume.
But it’s the album’s deeper cuts that reveal Kasabian’s versatility and heart. ‘Man of Simple Pleasures’ is a standout, a wistful, almost folk-inflected track that finds frontman Tom Meighan at his most reflective. Its laid-back groove and honest lyrics offer a rare glimpse of vulnerability, providing a counterpoint to the bravado that defines much of their catalogue.
Meanwhile, ‘Re-Wired’ pulses with a frenetic energy, merging psychedelic guitar work with pounding electronic beats, equal parts rave and rock ‘n’ roll. It’s a song made for bouncing crowds and late-night festival sets, a reminder that Kasabian could still push boundaries while keeping things unmistakably anthemic.
This album, along with its predecessor, propelled Kasabian up the charts and onto ever-higher festival bills. Arenas, too, were calling their name, and they wouldn't look back. In the absence of Oasis, Kasabian carried the torch for British rock. A band with both the bravado and the tunes to unite a generation hungry for communal musical moments. Their sound was the soundtrack to a decade of big nights, big crowds, and the enduring belief that rock music could still bring people together.
Five years after the game-changing 'Demon Days', Gorillaz returned in 2010 with 'Plastic Beach', a record that felt both timely and visionary. The album's central theme was environmental decay and artificiality, using the metaphor of a synthetic island built from ocean debris to explore ideas about excess, pollution, and the fragile state of modern society.
The album’s production is dazzlingly eclectic, seamlessly blending orchestral flourishes, electronic textures, funk grooves, and even touches of Middle Eastern music. Albarn assembled a remarkable cast of collaborators: Snoop Dogg, Lou Reed, Bobby Womack, De La Soul, Mos Def, and Mark E. Smith, each adding their own colour to the album’s sonic palette.
Three tracks in particular stand out for their depth and impact. ‘On Melancholy Hill’ is a shimmering, wistful synth-pop gem, built on a simple but unforgettable melody. Its gentle, dreamy atmosphere disguises a deep sense of longing and nostalgia, making it one of the most emotionally resonant songs in the Gorillaz catalogue. The lyrics, “If you can’t get what you want, then you come with me,” evoke a bittersweet escapism, perfectly capturing the album’s central tension between beauty and decay
‘Rhinestone Eyes’ is another highlight, its pulsing synths and hypnotic beat providing the backdrop for Albarn’s detached, almost robotic vocals. The song’s lyrics paint a portrait of a world drowning in artificiality, plastic oceans, neon lights, and synthetic love. There’s a sense of paranoia and resignation, but also a strange, seductive allure that keeps the listener hooked. The track’s rapid-fire imagery and catchy hooks make it one of the most memorable and thematically rich moments on the album.
Then there’s ‘Stylo’, a futuristic funk odyssey propelled by a relentless electronic bassline and driving beat. Featuring show-stopping vocals from Bobby Womack and a rap from Mos Def, the song pulses with urgency and energy. Womack’s impassioned cries bring a human element to the otherwise mechanical soundscape, adding emotional depth to the album’s meditation on technology and alienation. ‘Stylo’ is both a warning and a celebration, fusing classic soul with cutting-edge production in a way only Gorillaz could achieve.
Through these tracks, and the album as a whole, 'Plastic Beach' confirms Gorillaz as one of modern music’s most visionary and boundary-pushing projects. It’s a record that manages to be both a sharp social commentary and a wildly inventive pop album, standing as a testament to the creative potential of collaboration and the enduring power of socially conscious art.
In a significant move, Albarn took Gorillaz to the Pyramid Stage at Glastonbury in the same year, headlining the iconic festival just one year after doing so with Blur in 2009. This bold decision underscored the contrast between his two iconic bands. The Gorillaz set, though less crowd-pleasing than Blur’s nostalgic sing-along the previous year, was a sprawling multimedia experience. It featured video backdrops, animations, and a rotating lineup of guest performers. Albarn, along with guest musicians, brought a live band featuring an all-star lineup that included former members of The Clash: Mick Jones and Paul Simonon.
Following the breakup of Oasis in 2009, both Noel and Liam Gallagher embarked on their own musical journeys. Noel was the first to return in 2011 with Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds, a self-titled debut that marked a confident and triumphant start to his solo career. The album, drawing from a blend of shelved Oasis-era material and fresh compositions, was a critical and commercial success, certified 2x Platinum in the UK. It served as a powerful reminder of Noel’s songwriting prowess.
Noel Gallagher's High Flying Birds was compelling due to its seamless balance between evolution and familiarity, a rare achievement for any artist emerging from the shadow of such a towering legacy. Tracks like ‘If I Had a Gun…’ and ‘(Stranded On) The Wrong Beach’ carried the melancholic grandeur, sweeping melodies, and lyrical introspection that long-time Oasis fans had come to cherish. These songs felt like natural continuations of Noel’s work in the late Oasis years, echoing the emotional weight of tracks like ‘Stop Crying Your Heart Out’ or ‘The Importance of Being Idle’, but with a more refined and mature touch. They showcased his ability to write songs that felt both intimate and expansive, personal yet stadium-ready.
Yet there was also a clear sense of forward motion woven throughout the album. Songs such as ‘AKA… What a Life!’, ‘Dream On’, ‘If I Had a Gun…’, and deep cuts like ‘I Wanna Live in a Dream in My Record Machine’, ‘(AKA) Broken Arrow’, and ‘Stop the Clocks’ introduced a fresh sonic palette, incorporating piano-driven grooves, textured arrangements, and subtle electronic flourishes that hinted at a new artistic direction. ‘AKA… What a Life!’ in particular pulsed with a hypnotic, almost danceable rhythm that was worlds away from the strummed ballads and rock stompers of Oasis; it’s a euphoric, driving anthem that encapsulated the sense of liberation and possibility in Noel’s new chapter.
‘I Wanna Live in a Dream in My Record Machine’ and ‘(AKA) Broken Arrow’ showcased his ability to infuse classic Britpop melodies with a sense of nostalgia and longing, while ‘Stop the Clocks’, a song long rumoured among Oasis fans, finally found its place as a sweeping, reflective closer. These moments didn’t feel like departures for the sake of reinvention, but rather natural progressions of an artist unafraid to evolve, but careful not to alienate the core of what made his music resonate in the first place. By blending the familiar with the unexpected, Noel managed to both honour his past and chart a new creative path, setting the tone for the adventurous solo career that would follow.
The debut proved that Noel didn’t need the Oasis name or his famously combative brother to write anthems or fill arenas. It was the start of a solo chapter defined by a delicate balancing act: innovating just enough to stay artistically fresh, while still delivering the emotional weight and melodic punch that defined his legacy. The boldest experimentation would come in later albums, but here, Noel laid a foundation rooted in both reinvention and reverence.
Liam's post-Oasis venture came in the form of a new band, Beady Eye. While it certainly had its moments, the project struggled to reach the towering heights of his former group. Joined by fellow ex-Oasis members Chris Sharrock, Andy Bell, and Gem Archer, the band had pedigree but lacked a central songwriting figure like Noel. Instead, the writing duties were shared around, which made for a less cohesive sound but one that still produced flashes of brilliance.
Their debut album, 'Different Gear, Still Speeding', was raw and energetic, clearly aiming to recapture the spirit of early Oasis while updating it for a new decade. Tracks like ‘Four Letter Word’ and ‘The Roller’ hinted at what could have been, while deeper cuts such as ‘Kill for a Dream’ and ‘The Beat Goes On’ showed a more introspective, melodic side. ‘The Beat Goes On’ in particular stood out for its wistful tone and dreamy 60s feel, complete with a nod to Pink Floyd’s The Dark Side of the Moon. It was clear that Liam hadn’t lost his voice or presence; what was missing was the sharp songwriting focus that made Oasis records so compelling.
Their second album, 'BE', boldly ventured into experimental territory under the guidance of Dave Sitek from TV on the Radio. Tracks like ‘Flick of the Finger’ and ‘Soul Love’ unveiled a band daring to forge a unique identity, delving into unexplored textures and sonic concepts. ‘Flick of the Finger,’ with its revolutionary spoken-word outro and daring horns, stood out as a pinnacle of Beady Eye’s audacious creativity.
Despite these creative efforts, Beady Eye never quite captured the imagination of the wider public. Commercial performance was modest, and by 2014, the band had quietly disbanded.
Kings of Leon unveiled 'Come Around Sundown' in 2010, a record that signalled a stylistic departure from the raw, garage-rock bite of their early days, often referred to as the “Southern Strokes” era, towards a more expansive, atmospheric sound. Following the monumental success of 2008’s 'Only by the Night', which propelled them into global stadium status with hits like 'Sex on Fire' and 'Use Somebody', the band was no longer just an indie favourite; they were determined to become one of the biggest rock bands in the world. 'Come Around Sundown' was both a continuation and a recalibration, sonically rich, emotionally intricate, and more textured than anything they’d done before.
This album features some of the most underrated and sophisticated work of their career. 'Radioactive', the lead single, blends gospel-tinged backing vocals with an instantly infectious riff, capturing both the band's Southern heritage and their evolving arena-ready sound. Its celebratory tone and soaring chorus made it an immediate standout. Meanwhile, 'Pyro' is one of the album’s best songs, lyrically introspective and musically restrained; it showcases Caleb Followill’s ability to craft haunting narratives about inner conflict and disillusionment, wrapped in a slow-burning build of guitar and emotion.
While 'Come Around Sundown' didn’t quite receive the critical acclaim or chart-topping dominance of its predecessor, it was a more nuanced and mature record, subtle where 'Only by the Night' was explosive. It showed a band grappling with their newfound fame, experimenting with space and sound, and refusing to remake the album that made them stars.
Foster the People would release 'Pumped Up Kicks' in 2011, which would give them a rather unlikely hit. The song’s irresistible, sun-dappled bassline and whistled hook disguised one of the darkest lyrical themes to ever break into the mainstream, a chilling depiction of a troubled youth plotting a school shooting. This contrast between the breezy, almost carefree melody and its deeply unsettling subject matter was part of what made the track so arresting and provocative.
It became a genuine cultural phenomenon, topping charts worldwide and sparking countless debates about the responsibilities of pop music, censorship, and the power of subversive songwriting. 'Pumped Up Kicks' was everywhere: on the radio, at festivals, in commercials, its infectious sound belying lyrics that forced listeners to confront uncomfortable truths about violence and alienation in contemporary society. The song’s success also paved the way for Foster the People’s debut album ‘Torches’, which blended indie-pop with darker lyrical undercurrents, and helped define a new era of chart-friendly alternative music.
The Killers would return with 'Battle Born'. This marked a new chapter for the band. A reflective, emotionally charged record that embraced vulnerability, resilience, and the vast American landscape both sonically and thematically. The album took its name from the motto on the Nevada state flag, a tribute to the band's roots in Las Vegas and their identity as fighters forged in the desert. After the grand experimentation of 'Day & Age', 'Battle Born' found the band returning to more grounded, guitar-driven rock but with the polish and emotional depth of a band that had now seen nearly a decade of international fame, pressure, and personal transformation.
It did not garner the same levels of success as the band's first three albums. However, it still gave fans 'Miss Atomic Bomb', 'Runaways' and 'The Way it Was'. Harking back to the storytelling of 'Sam's Town' and with the Springsteen-esque narrative songwriting, this record still has some great songs on it. It was always going to be difficult to follow up three albums that had given the band some of the most iconic songs of the noughties. They were never going to write another 'Somebody Told Me', 'When You Were Young' or 'Human'.
Following the success of their debut, The Wombats returned in 2011 with 'This Modern Glitch', a more synth-heavy, polished affair that still retained their signature wit. Singles like 'Tokyo (Vampires & Wolves)' and 'Jump Into the Fog' signalled a maturing sound, exploring themes of anxiety, identity, and escapism while still being incredibly danceable. The album balanced darkness with playfulness, and tracks like 'Techno Fan' and '1996' captured a sense of youthful nostalgia and uncertainty about the future.
Their third album, 'Glitterbug', further pushed into pop territory with tracks like 'Greek Tragedy' becoming fan favourites and finding new life years later thanks to viral success on platforms like TikTok. The album showed the band fully embracing big synths, festival-ready choruses, and introspective lyrics, solidifying their ability to evolve with the times without losing their core identity.
With 'Glitterbug', The Wombats proved they weren’t just a flash-in-the-pan indie act from the late 2000s; they were here to stay, adapting their sound while still speaking to the chaos and confusion of growing up. From this record, they never really looked back. Even over ten years on, The Wombats are still very high on festival lineups and sell out tours with ease. 'Greek Tragedy' gave them a new lease of life and appealed to the next generation and then some.
Two Door Cinema Club burst onto the scene in 2010 with ‘Tourist History', a debut album that would go on to define a generation of indie fans and soundtrack countless nights in sticky-floored clubs. From the jangly urgency of ‘Undercover Martyn’ to the euphoric crescendo of ‘What You Know’, the album was a masterclass in danceable indie-pop. Blending post-punk guitar riffs with crisp, electronic production, the band carved out a sound that was distinctly theirs, upbeat, bright, and impossible not to move to.
Almost every track feels like a single, a rare feat that helped cement the band as festival regulars across the globe. ‘Something Good Can Work’ and ‘This Is the Life’ in particular felt tailor-made for summer stages and late-night sing-alongs. ‘I Can Talk’ became one of the band’s defining tracks, a kinetic burst of energy with its choppy guitars, urgent vocals, and stuttering chorus that captured the frenetic joy of indie clubs at the time. It’s a song that perfectly encapsulates the band’s knack for writing infectious hooks while still retaining a sense of nervous edge.
‘Tourist History’ didn’t just launch Two Door Cinema Club into the spotlight; it became a cornerstone of early 2010s indie music, capturing the youthful optimism and sonic vibrancy of a scene that was rapidly evolving. It was the kind of album that made you fall in love with indie all over again and made you want to dance while doing it.
The following year, The Vaccines would deliver a different kind of energy with their 2011 debut, 'What Did You Expect from The Vaccines?'. Where Two Door leaned into polish and precision, The Vaccines offered urgency, attitude, and a no-frills approach that felt like a shot in the arm for British guitar music. The album was fast, fierce, and full of conviction, packed with short, punchy songs that didn’t waste a second.
What truly set the record apart was its ability to distil the essence of classic rock & roll and punk into something immediate and contemporary. The production is raw and straightforward, with sharp guitars and pounding drums that recall the spirit of The Ramones and The Strokes, but with a distinctly British sense of humour and melancholy. Justin Young's vocals alternate between swagger and vulnerability, giving songs like 'If You Wanna', 'Post Break-Up Sex', and 'Wreckin' Bar (Ra Ra Ra)' a relatable emotional punch. The lyrics embrace themes of heartbreak, longing, and youthful recklessness, delivered with a directness that’s both refreshing and infectious.
The album's sequencing is relentless, rarely letting up or lingering on a single idea for too long. ‘Nørgaard’ clocks in at just over a minute and a half, but it’s pure adrenaline, while ‘All in White’ shows the band can pull off a sweeping, anthemic ballad when they want to. Even slower tracks like ‘Wetsuit’ and ‘Family Friend’ carry an undercurrent of restless energy, balancing introspection with a sense of hope and possibility.
'What Did You Expect from The Vaccines?' quickly became a defining debut of the decade, not just for its string of hits but for the way it reignited excitement around British guitar bands. Its simplicity is its genius, proof that sometimes, all you need is three chords, a catchy chorus, and a sense of urgency to make music that connects.
Their unique blend of humour, heartbreak, and a hint of swagger made them stand out from the crowd. As Clash Magazine put it in 2021, every track was “an intense celebration of what makes pop music so good.” The album didn’t set out to reinvent the wheel; it didn’t need to. It reminded listeners of the visceral thrill of a great pop song: something simple, something loud, something that hits you in the chest.
In 2013, Bastille released their debut album 'Bad Blood' (and later its expanded edition, 'All This Bad Blood'), instantly establishing themselves as one of the decade’s most inescapable new acts. Fronted by Dan Smith, Bastille crafted a sound that blended soaring synths, cinematic arrangements, and Smith’s distinctively emotive vocals. The album’s breakout single, 'Pompeii', became a global phenomenon, with its iconic “eh-eh-oh, eh-oh” chorus echoing across radio waves, festivals, and sports arenas. Its lyrics, referencing the ancient city frozen in time, captured a sense of apocalyptic anxiety and nostalgia, a theme that runs throughout the record.
It showcased Bastille’s knack for writing anthems that were both introspective and communal, pairing personal confessions with widescreen, sing-along hooks. 'Laura Palmer', inspired by the enigmatic character from Twin Peaks, channelled cinematic mystery and longing, while 'Weight of Living, Pt. II' explored themes of burden, hope, and moving forward in a modern world weighed down by uncertainty. The album’s eclectic production, melding indie, pop, and subtle touches of electronica, helped Bastille stand out in an era crowded with synth-pop bands, and their lyrics often hinted at deeper anxieties beneath the euphoric choruses.
All This Bad Blood' became a defining record for a new generation of pop fans, earning Bastille critical acclaim and a dedicated following. It was an album that soundtracked everything from late-night drives to festival main stages, capturing the restless, searching spirit of the early 2010s.
Tame Impala would release 'Lonerism' in 2012, an album that looked back to The Beatles' psychedelic era, particularly drawing inspiration from ‘Tomorrow Never Knows.’ Using that song as a blueprint, Kevin Parker would craft and record an album in one of the most isolated places on the planet, an album about loneliness. Ironically, 'Lonerism' would be the album that launched Tame Impala to the world, with songs like ‘Elephant’ and ‘Feels Like We Only Go Backwards’ becoming two of the most essential rock songs of the decade. Lonerism is a classic album, and it’s not even Tame Impala’s best. That was still to come.
Before 'Lonerism', Tame Impala had already made waves with their 2010 debut, 'Innerspeaker'. That record established Kevin Parker’s voice as a singular force in psychedelic rock, blending swirling guitars, reverb-heavy vocals, and mind-bending soundscapes. Tracks like ‘Expectation’, ‘Runway, Houses, City, Clouds’, and ‘Alter Ego’ showed Parker’s knack for melody and introspection, channelling a dreamy nostalgia that set the stage for everything to come. 'Innerspeaker' was celebrated for its lush production and relentless, spiralling grooves, a modern classic that proved there was still room for guitar-driven psychedelia in the new decade.
This record saw Parker blend swirling guitar effects, driving rhythms and dreamy vocals to create a sound that appeared both vintage and new. Parker’s approach to recording 'Innerspeaker' was notably solitary and experimental. Working at Wave House, a remote studio near the Indian Ocean, he embraced isolation as a creative tool. This sense of seclusion seeps into the record, with expansive instrumentals and introspective lyrics that evoke drifting through endless space.
Critically, 'Innerspeaker' was hailed as a fresh yet nostalgic take on psychedelia. It resonated with both classic rock fans and a new generation discovering the genre. The album clearly captures what made the early Tame Impala sound so distinctive and difficult to replicate.
What made 'Lonerism' so special wasn’t just its retro flair or lush, synth-drenched production; it was Parker’s ability to turn introversion into something widescreen and universal. The sound of The Beatles can be heard throughout the record. Sounds phase in and out, drums thunder, guitars chime with warm, valve-amp bite, and voices are multi-tracked into rich harmonies. Snippets of speech bubble in the background, loops repeat, and vocals echo distantly, as if drifting in from a radio in another room. Songs like ‘Mind Mischief’, ‘Music to Walk Home By’, and ‘Why Won’t They Talk to Me?’ took the internal monologue of a loner and made it feel cinematic.
The blend truly hits its stride at the album's midpoint, 'Why Won't They Talk To Me?', which crashes over you in waves of sound, pulling back and pushing forward, becoming stronger each time. The lyrics are starkly literal, frequently repeating the title and sounding more desperate with each iteration. Elsewhere, they sink into a pit of despair: "I’m so alone/Nothing for me"; "Lonely old me… I thought I was happy." The song distils the album’s themes of social anxiety and isolation with startling clarity, a plaintive anthem for anyone who’s ever felt invisible or disconnected.
The song titles tell a tale full of 'woe is me' moments, like the bass-driven pop of 'Feels Like We Only Go Backwards', the aforementioned 'Why Won’t They Talk To Me?', and the glam rock-like 'Elephant', which hides lyrics such as "He's got friends but you get the feeling/That they wouldn't care too much if he'd just disappear".
Perhaps the greatest moment is 'Nothing That Has Happened So Far Has Been Anything We Could Control', a cymbal-crashing burst of fried psychedelia that's so Beatles-esque you half-expect the Yellow Submarine to float by. These Beatles comparisons aren't meant to be a criticism, nor do they suggest that 'Lonerism' lacks scope, ambition, originality, or great tunes. Instead, they're a reflection of how far The Beatles could have gone, exploring psychedelia during their '66/'67 purple patch, and are a testament to how, today, one man working largely alone can match what was once the pinnacle of pioneering sound produced by the greatest band in the world's most famous studio.
Lyrically, 'Lonerism' is even more personal and vulnerable than its predecessor. Themes of disconnection, social anxiety, and introspection are woven throughout, often delivered with striking directness. They often blur the line between waking and dreaming, capturing the surreal, liminal spaces of consciousness.
‘Apocalypse Dreams’ is the record’s sprawling centrepiece, moving from dreamy, wistful verses to a soaring, euphoric outro. It’s a song about uncertainty and hope, with Parker’s layered vocals drifting over waves of synth and guitar. Meanwhile, ‘Elephant’ is the album’s hardest-hitting moment, a stomping, fuzzy glam-rock monster that became an unlikely festival anthem. Its swaggering riff and playful lyrics brought Tame Impala to radio and soundtracked countless parties and festivals.
‘Feels Like We Only Go Backwards’, on the other hand, is pure psychedelic pop bliss, melancholic but endlessly catchy, its swirling melodies masking a deep sense of longing and nostalgia. And at the centre of it all was Kevin Parker, the solitary genius meticulously building a world from his bedroom studio. 'Lonerism' managed to sound both expansive and deeply personal, its themes of disconnection and yearning amplified by swirling melodies and walls of fuzzed-out sound. It was the soundtrack to a generation who were learning to live more online than in real life, solitary, introspective, but still searching for beauty.
The acclaim wasn’t just critical either. The album broke through to the mainstream in a way that few psychedelic records had in years. Its influence spread far beyond rock circles, with artists from Rihanna to Travis Scott citing Parker’s sound as a major inspiration. Lonerism didn’t just revive psychedelia; it redefined what modern rock could be.
It was a major step forward not only for Tame Impala but for alternative music itself. And, remarkably, Kevin Parker was just getting started.
After fifteen years of silence following their split in 1996, The Stone Roses shocked the music world in 2011 by announcing their highly anticipated reunion. This marked the beginning of a series of triumphant returns that reignited the band’s legendary status and reminded everyone why they were such a vital part of British music history. The emotional resonance of their reunion was palpable, connecting fans across generations and reigniting the passion for their music.
The Stone Roses kicked off their reunion with a series of concerts that culminated in three sold-out shows at Heaton Park in Manchester in June 2012. These concerts, attended by over 220,000 fans, were more than just gigs; they were cultural events, emotional homecomings for both the band and their fans. At the time, they were the most in-demand concert tickets ever, surpassing events like Live Aid and even Oasis at Knebworth.
The crowd, spanning generations, sang every word back as if no time had passed. The setlists were packed with beloved classics like ‘I Wanna Be Adored’, ‘She Bangs the Drums’, ‘Waterfall’, ‘Fools Gold’, and ‘This Is the One’. Each song felt like a celebration of the band’s legacy, delivered with a fire and tightness that many doubted they could still summon.
Heaton Park saw the band supported by a whole host of support bands, including Primal Scream, The Vaccines, and Beady Eye. The Manchester shows were not the only shows on that tour, though. Opening with an intimate gig in Warrington, the band played in Barcelona, Amsterdam, Hultsfred, Aarhus, Lyon, Dublin, Lisbon, and Milan before heading to Asia, playing in Singapore and Hong Kong.
The tour was not just about the band's performances, but also about the exciting collaborations that took place. The Isle of Wight and V Festival headlines were just the beginning. The tour culminated in huge shows at London's Finsbury Park and Glasgow Green, each with its own unique lineup of guest performers. Glasgow was treated to the likes of Primal Scream, Jake Bugg, and The View, while London was graced by Courteeners, Dizzee Rascal, Rudimental, Miles Kane, Public Image LTD, and Johnny Marr.
This isn't the last time we're hearing from Ian, John, Mani and Reni, though.
Jake Bugg’s rise felt almost improbable in the age of polished, electronic pop and the last vestiges of peak indie. Hailing from the Clifton estate in Nottingham, Bugg brought with him an authenticity and worldview rarely seen in chart-topping young artists. His voice, nasal, raw, and world-weary, felt like it belonged to someone twice his age, while his lyrics dealt with the grit and struggle of everyday life in working-class Britain. This wasn’t music built for stadiums or glossy magazine covers; it was kitchen-sink realism for a new generation, with all the sharp edges left intact.
His debut album, ‘Jake Bugg’ (2012), was a breath of fresh air. It offered a refreshing antidote to the heavily produced pop and indie dominating the charts. At just 18 years old, Bugg’s sound harkened back to the raw storytelling of Bob Dylan and the gritty realism of early Arctic Monkeys, but with a distinctly modern twist. His debut album featured tracks like ‘Lightning Bolt’ and ‘Two Fingers’, which became instant anthems. The record stood out for its stripped-back production, catchy melodies, and Bugg’s knack for painting vivid pictures of working-class life in Nottingham.
Songs like ‘Seen It All’ and ‘Trouble Town’ showcased a world-weary honesty that belied his youth, while his nimble guitar work and sharp lyricism made him a critical favourite. The album’s success was meteoric, debuting at number one in the UK and earning Bugg a Mercury Prize nomination. He quickly became the poster boy for a new wave of singer-songwriters who weren’t afraid to blend folk, rock, and indie influences.
On tour, Bugg proved himself a captivating live act, able to hold festival crowds rapt with just his voice and an acoustic guitar. He supported The Stone Roses, Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds, and played his own sold-out shows, quickly establishing himself as both a throwback and a singular new force. Critics praised his ability to channel the likes of Bob Dylan, Donovan, and early Arctic Monkeys, yet Bugg’s perspective was unmistakably his own.
Bugg’s second album, ‘Shangri La’ (2013), showed a young artist determined not to stand still. With Rick Rubin at the controls, the record was sharper, louder, and more confident. There was a newfound swagger to tracks like ‘Slumville Sunrise’ and ‘What Doesn’t Kill You’, and a broader sonic palette that saw Bugg experimenting with Americana, classic rock, and even touches of psychedelia. The instrumentation on the second record was improved; on 'Simple Pleasures', Bugg showcased just how good a guitar player he was, delivering deft, bluesy licks and a sense of world-weary wisdom far beyond his years. The song stands as one of the album’s emotional high points, with lyrics that paint a portrait of a restless spirit searching for meaning amidst change and uncertainty. Lines like “You’ve been huntin’ round for treasure / Find it all in the simple pleasures” and “How in hell can I be safe / From this sudden fear of change” capture the anxious, searching tone of Bugg’s songwriting while revealing a core longing for comfort and clarity.
On 'Messed Up Kids', the guitars almost growl with youthful discontent, providing the backdrop to a vivid portrayal of lost youth and urban decay. Bugg’s lyrics resonate with stark imagery: “Johnny deals a bit of blow on the side / Thinks that he's invincible, hates a fight,” and “The messed up kids are on the corner with no money / They sell their time, they sell their drugs, they sell their body.” The chorus paints a bleak but compelling snapshot of a generation struggling to find belonging: “Everywhere I see a sea of empty pockets / Beautiful girls with eyes so dark within their sockets / So far away / It's a washed out Saturday / The sky all pastel shades / Under breeze block palisades.” Over a decade later, it still sounds fresh and anthemic, a testament to Bugg's ability to capture the struggles and hopes of his generation.
It cemented Jake Bugg’s reputation as an artist willing to evolve and take risks. Both albums capture the brief, electric moment when British guitar music was searching for its next voice and found it, unexpectedly, in a teenager from Nottingham who sounded like he’d seen it all before.
Despite leaving The Smiths in 1987, it would take Johnny Marr until 2013 to step confidently into the solo spotlight for the first time. Marr released 'The Messenger', a record that reminded everyone of his unparalleled gift for melody and guitar invention. 'Generate! Generate!' is a surging, kinetic highlight, full of shimmering riffs and forward momentum, while 'Say Demesne' reveals a more reflective, introspective side. 'New Town Velocity' stands out as the album’s emotional core, a nostalgic, autobiographical track that captures Marr's journey from the streets of Manchester to indie legend, blending bittersweet lyricism with uplifting, jangling guitar work. With 'The Messenger', Marr proved he could be just as compelling a frontman as he was a collaborator, marking a bold new chapter in a storied career.
Marr followed up with his sophomore album 'Playland' in 2014, doubling down on his signature style while expanding his palette with sharper hooks and more direct songwriting. The album’s lead single, 'Easy Money', is a propulsive, guitar-driven anthem about modern pressures and the allure (and emptiness) of chasing quick rewards, while 'Speak Out Reach Out' channels the restless, politically charged energy that has always run through Marr’s work. With 'Playland', Marr cemented his status as one of British rock’s most vital voices, proving his solo career was no mere footnote, but a vibrant, ongoing evolution.
Whilst Jake Bugg and Johnny Marr were forging solo careers Manchester's Courteeners were making their own significant mark. Their 2013 album 'Anna' showcased a band ready to embrace bigger hooks and bolder sounds, a confident, ambitious leap forward. The album's opener, 'Are You in Love with a Notion?', is more than just a song; it’s a communal experience, especially when played live, preferably outside. Mosh pits open, friends link arms, flares are lit, and thousands collectively lose themselves in the moment. There’s something almost ritualistic about the way the crowd knows what’s coming, the way the opening notes land like a starting pistol—everyone present understands, and everyone.
In 2013, it was just another song. In 2026, it's the soundtrack to thousands of shared moments in arenas, muddy fields, and stadiums. Despite not containing some of Fray's best lyrics, it's instantly relatable, written for a generation of dreamers, with lines about the mundane working life, holidays, and romance: “You're going to quit Debenhams / Elope and get married in the sun.” It’s a lyric that's dated in the best possible way; Debenhams is gone now, just like a lot of the world that song was written for. But somehow that makes it feel more precious, a snapshot of a specific moment in British life, wrapped up in two minutes of indie pop.
Elsewhere on 'Anna', 'Lose Control' keeps the momentum going with its driving beat and urgent chorus, while 'Van Der Graaff' delivers a punch of indie energy and 'Welcome to the Rave' finds the band experimenting with electronic textures without losing their signature Northern swagger. 'Anna' was the sound of a band growing in ambition and scale, and its best moments remain fan favourites, regularly closing out Courteeners' live sets with cathartic singalongs.
Looking back, the seeds of this ascent were sown on their previous record, 'Falcon' (2010). The album's opener, 'The Opener', welcomed listeners with Liam Fray's trademark wit and warmth, a love letter to home and friendship that resonated deeply with their audience. 'Take Over the World', the second single from 'Falcon', marked a shift from the angst of 'St Jude' to something more sensitive and melancholic. 'Falcon' as a whole was a step sideways for the band, slower, more considered, less interested in throwing elbows. Some critics didn’t know where to place it, but the fans understood. Songs like 'Take Over the World' became slow-burning anthems about hope and perseverance, with a chorus that felt enormous on record and absolutely staggering when shouted by thousands live: “I think it’s time for me and you to take over the world.” The song’s enduring power comes from its simplicity and sincerity, earning its place in every Courteeners set for over a decade.
If 'Take Over the World' is Fray pining for a girl, 'The Opener' is a love letter to his hometown. Written as the band started touring more, with Fray missing home, it follows a traditional love-song structure but redirects all that longing toward Manchester itself. “You were made for me, and I was made for you” Fray sings, capturing the innocence of youth and the bittersweet ache of nostalgia. The details- wet pavements, borrowed clothes, the small, irreplaceable stuff- make it resonate not just as a song about Manchester, but about belonging and the places that shape us. These tracks, along with the band's evolution from 'Falcon' through 'Anna' and 'Concrete Love', solidified Courteeners as one of the UK's most enduring and emotionally resonant indie bands of the decade.
The band's reputation as a live force soared in this era. Their 2013 Castlefield Bowl shows were a defining moment, selling out rapidly and confirming their place as a hometown phenomenon. Courteeners weren’t just a local band; they were becoming a force across the UK and beyond. Their international tours brought their Mancunian swagger to audiences as far afield as Europe, the US, and even Asia, winning over new fans with each show and proving that their appeal was far from waning.
It proved many people wrong as well. Parlophone had dropped the band before the release of 'Anna', but that did not deter an army of fans; they bought the records and tickets for Courteeners in droves.
In 2014, they released 'Concrete Love', an album that continued to build on their anthemic sound. Tracks like 'Small Bones' captured the band's ability to write honest, heartfelt singalongs that spoke to the everyday struggles of their audience. ‘Small Bones’ is a modern indie love anthem, sharp-witted, grounded in real romance, and a tribute to the awe of falling for someone. Its bridge is one of the strongest in recent indie memory, uniting thousands in a single moment of catharsis at live shows.
“I've seen you in my dreams, honey/I've watched you in my sleep/We were drinking in the bars, darlin'/ Dancing down the street”
It’s in the verses where Liam Fray’s songwriting really shines. He takes the experience of a long-distance romance and makes it instantly relatable. There are nods to Virgin Pendolino trains and a talent for finding the extraordinary in the everyday. Instead of leaning on overblown gestures that would never happen in real life, ‘Small Bones’ is about late nights out, playing hard to get, and being completely smitten by someone.
'Concrete Love' also contains the band's most harrowing song. In a catalogue full of songs designed to fill fields and arenas, 'International' is the one that was never built for that. It wasn't written to be sung back. It wasn't written to be a moment. It was written because it had to be. And that need, that unavoidable, uncomfortable need to get something out, is exactly what you can hear in every second of.
Liam Fray describes himself as an "international worrier", describing the "ghosts of doubt", and "the shutters of his private hell" with "no sign of slowing down". It's a heartfelt exposure of the man behind the band
What makes it so resonant is the raw honesty and hope that runs through every line, especially knowing Liam Fray wrote it during one of the most difficult periods of his life. There’s a tension between darkness and hope, despair and the possibility of connection: “Without you, where would I be? / Lost for words, lost at sea.” It’s simple, but that simplicity is earned and powerful, the sound of someone stripped back to their core truth. Fray himself has called it a difficult song to write, sing, and even talk about. A testament to its depth and vulnerability. It remains one of the most poignant moments in Courteeners’ entire catalogue.
On June 5, 2015, Courteeners held one of their most significant headline concerts at Manchester's Heaton Park, supported by Blossoms, Bipolar Sunshine, and Peace. All 25,000 tickets sold out within 40 minutes. Q Magazine gave the show a perfect 5-star review, comparing it to legendary Manchester gatherings like the Stone Roses' Spike Island or Oasis' Maine Road, cementing Courteeners as standard-bearers for their city and a vital part of the decade’s live music story. It would be the first of many big gigs in the city, and the first of three trips to Heaton Park. More on that later.
2011 would see Britain lose one of its brightest musical sparks. Amy Winehouse tragically passed away at the age of 27, a shocking loss for both the music world and the public. Amy had the world at her feet, and her untimely death left a massive void in British music. Her death sent shockwaves through the industry, as many saw her as one of the last true, untamed talents of her generation. Despite her short career, Amy's influence continues to resonate, inspiring countless artists in various genres. Her passing highlighted the pressures of fame and the demons that often accompany it, especially for young artists thrust into the spotlight.
Amy’s music, raw, deeply personal, and timeless, became her legacy. 'Back to Black', released in 2006, is widely considered one of the greatest British albums of all time. Tracks like ‘Rehab’, ‘Love Is a Losing Game’, and ‘Tears Dry on Their Own’ blended soul, jazz, Motown and confessional songwriting in a way that hadn’t been done before or since. She brought vulnerability to the forefront and did so without artifice. Her voice, powerful and aching, felt like it carried generations of pain and beauty.
Even years after her death, Amy remains a reference point for authenticity in music. Artists like Adele, Billie Eilish, and Florence Welch have all spoken about her influence. Tributes continue to pour in from across the world, not only honouring her sound but also the bravery with which she shared her story. In the wake of her passing, conversations around mental health, addiction, and the treatment of female artists by the media became more prominent conversations that her life and death helped to catalyse. Amy Winehouse may be gone, but her impact is indelible.
2013 saw arguably the most important band of the previous decade release the most essential album of this decade. AM arrived in September, and with it came the definitive moment Arctic Monkeys stopped being "just a band" and truly became artists. Not a rock band. Not an indie band. Just artists. Think Bowie, The Beatles, Stevie Wonder, Bob Dylan; 'AM' marked their arrival into that realm. It was an album that pulled from a broad palette of influences: the slick riffs of 70s hard rock, the lyrical tightness and attitude of 90s hip-hop, the velvet swagger of soul, and a cinematic polish that felt impossibly cool. It was the sound of a band reinventing itself, not out of desperation, but because they could.
Key songs like 'Do I Wanna Know?', 'R U Mine?', and 'Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High?' became instant classics, each capturing a different facet of the album’s late-night world. 'Do I Wanna Know?' leads with that iconic, slinking riff and a confessional vulnerability, quickly becoming one of the band’s signature tracks. 'R U Mine?' delivers pure adrenaline with its rapid-fire vocals and swaggering guitars, a modern rock anthem.
'Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High?' stands out for its R&B-inspired groove, painting a portrait of modern relationships in all their messy, nocturnal confusion. 'Arabella' is another highlight, fusing Black Sabbath-worthy guitar riffs with Turner's sly, cinematic lyricism, while 'I Wanna Be Yours' closes the album on a note of raw, poetic intimacy, adapting John Cooper Clarke’s poem into a dreamy, lovesick confession. The album’s deeper cuts, like 'Mad Sounds' and 'Fireside', showcase the band's versatility: 'Mad Sounds' is a woozy, retro-tinged ballad that channels 60s pop cool, while 'Fireside' smoulders with understated longing and hypnotic rhythm.
The musicianship across 'AM' is a testament to the band’s creative confidence. The core lineup, Alex Turner (vocals, guitar), Jamie Cook (guitar), Nick O’Malley (bass), and Matt Helders (drums)—delivered some of their finest performances to date, with O’Malley’s tight basslines and Helders’s inventive, propulsive drumming forming the backbone of the record’s groove. They were joined by longtime collaborator James Ford on keyboards, production, and percussion, and Josh Homme (Queens of the Stone Age), who contributed backing vocals on several tracks. Bill Ryder-Jones, formerly of The Coral, also played guitar on parts of the album, adding subtle textures to its sound. Notably, the band originally planned to have Haim feature on 'Do I Wanna Know?', an idea that ultimately didn’t happen, but which inadvertently gave birth to the “space choir boys,” a group vocal arrangement featuring Helders and O’Malley that became a signature part of the album’s sound. Their collective talent and chemistry drive the album’s sleek, nocturnal atmosphere.
None of it would have been possible without the transformative detour into the California desert during the 'Humbug' era. This trip broadened the band's minds and horizons. But 'AM' wasn't 'Humbug's' darker sibling; it was something sleeker, sharper, and far more ambitious. Gone were the grimy streets of Sheffield and the pint-fuelled tales of the Northern night. In their place came nocturnal stories of obsession and allure, of after-hours loneliness and magnetic desire. 'AM' was Arctic Monkeys in leather and sunglasses, soundtracking a generation's growing pains with velvet riffs and whispered truths. No longer indie boys from a Northern English town, they were bonafide rock superstars.
Their decision to headline Glastonbury's Pyramid Stage in June 2013, just two months before 'AM's' release, was a bold move. For Arctic Monkeys, this wasn't just another festival slot; it was a global statement of intent. They took to the stage as the Friday night headliner, in front of a crowd stretching as far as the eye could see, and a television audience of millions. Opening with 'Do I Wanna Know?', a song that was barely known outside the most dedicated fan circles, they set the tone for what would be one of the most significant Glastonbury performances of the decade. Alongside 'Mad Sounds' and 'R U Mine?', the band played three virtually brand new songs, showcasing a confidence in their new material that few acts would dare.
The audience, at first curious, was quickly drawn in by the heavy swagger and sultry grooves of the new tracks, instantly sensing that something special was happening. The set was both a celebration of their journey and a teaser for what was to come. This audacious performance didn't just build anticipation for the album's release; it positioned Arctic Monkeys as the defining British band of their era, able to command the biggest stage in the world with ease and style.
But it wasn’t just the new material that made the performance unforgettable. They treated the crowd to a set that perfectly balanced evolution and nostalgia. There was a raucous, stripped-down version of ‘Mardy Bum’, performed acoustically, a quiet reminder of their Sheffield roots, and a rare festival moment of intimacy. ‘A Certain Romance’ brought the emotional climax, the song that arguably started it all, played like a love letter to the fans who’d been there since the beginning. And then there was ‘505’, performed with Miles Kane onstage, just as they had done in 2007.
They also tore through fan favourites like ‘Brianstorm’, ‘Dancing Shoes’, ‘Crying Lightning’, and ‘I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor’, each delivered with a new kind of swagger. Gone was the wiry, frenetic energy of their early gigs; this was a band in complete control, exuding style and confidence, with Turner’s greased-back hair and leather jacket cementing the aesthetic of the AM era.
That night, they became the biggest band in the world.
AM' didn’t just elevate Arctic Monkeys; it inspired a cultural shift. It brought guitar music back into the conversation during a time when pop, EDM, and hip-hop dominated the charts. It was an album that made rock relevant again without needing to shout about it. It quietly smouldered its way into teenage bedrooms, pre-drinks playlists, and indie nightclubs, over a decade later it's still a cornerstone (excuse the pun).
For many of us, this was the first band that genuinely felt like ours, a group we discovered at the perfect moment, when music was starting to mean everything. They weren’t just soundtracking our youth; they were defining it.
The impact of 'AM' was immense. Commercially, it debuted at number one in the UK, produced multiple chart-topping singles, and achieved global acclaim. Culturally, it redefined how a modern rock band could sound, blending genres, embracing new influences, and never standing still. Its aesthetic and sounds fueled a resurgence of guitar music, inspiring a new wave of artists and giving British rock a fresh sense of relevance. 'AM' didn’t just influence other bands; it set a new standard for what guitar music could be.
The ripple effects of AM were enormous. Bands like Royal Blood, Catfish and the Bottlemen, and even The 1975 owe something to the doors that Arctic Monkeys kicked back open. They made guitar bands cool again. But more than that, they proved that reinvention was possible, that evolution was essential, and that British guitar music still had new stories to tell. The old guard hadn't gone away either.
Foals would continue to evolve with each subsequent release, refusing to stay in one place creatively. In 2013, they released 'Holy Fire', a breakthrough both commercially and artistically. It struck a powerful balance between danceable grooves and heavier rock textures. Lead single 'Inhaler' was a bruising, riff-heavy anthem that announced a more aggressive side to the band.
At the same time, 'My Number' became one of their biggest hits. This euphoric, funk-driven indie banger filled dance floors and festival fields alike. The album also featured deeper cuts like 'Milk & Black Spiders', a slow-building, emotionally rich track that exemplified the band’s ability to craft atmosphere and grandeur without losing their edge. 'Holy Fire' cemented Foals' reputation as a top-tier live act and set the stage for even bolder work.
Then, in 2015, came 'What Went Down', perhaps their most intense and visceral album to date. The title track opened the album with a thunderous roar, showcasing frontman Yannis Philippakis’s raw vocal power and the band’s muscular instrumentation. But alongside the fury were moments of beauty and introspection, such as 'Mountain at My Gates', an explosive yet melodic anthem and 'Give It All', a slow-burning ballad full of ache and restraint. The album closed with 'A Knife in the Ocean', an emotional epic that unfolded with cinematic depth, layering Foals’ signature guitar textures over melancholic lyrics and a tidal wave of sound. The track remains one of their most powerful closers, showing their ability to balance the intimate with the expansive. 'What Went Down' saw Foals embracing a darker, more primal identity, pulling it off with complete confidence.
'What Went Down' would also propell Foals forward live, in 2016 they would headline Reading & Leeds for the first time. A real triumph for a band who less than ten years before had played the festival before they'd even released a record. The huge show also gave the band to showcase their evolution, 'What Went Down' was one of the sets highlights. With monstorus riffs and a massive drum build up. Foals proved why they'd earnt the headline spots but more importantly showed audiences that this is where they were staying.
It was a real showcase of the bands eclectic discogrpahy, songs from their debut 'Cassius' and 'Olympic Airways' slotted in alongside 'Mountain at My Gates' and indie classic 'My Number'. 'Two Steps Twice' ended the set with a sea of confetti, pyro and two drummers on stage, Guy from Disclosure joined Jack Bevan in the setting the beat, as Yannis Philippakis, conducted the mosh pits.
Those two nights at Reading & Leeds gave Britain the first of the next generation of festival headliners.
Following the success of 'AM', guitar music was undeniably back in the mainstream, and 2014 saw the emergence of two powerhouse debut albums that would shape the sound of rock for years to come. Royal Blood and Catfish and the Bottlemen both burst onto the scene, each in their own way reviving the spirit of guitar-driven music but with a modern twist.
Royal Blood took the riff-heavy foundation laid by AM and pushed it to its raw, primal limits. Where Arctic Monkeys leaned into swagger and groove, Royal Blood went straight for the jugular. Mike Kerr and Ben Thatcher, as a two-piece, created a colossal sound that felt almost impossible to believe came from just bass and drums. Their 2014 self-titled debut album was loud, bold, and unapologetically aggressive, a full-frontal assault of distorted bass riffs, thunderous drumming, and no-nonsense songwriting. It felt like rock music being stripped down to its bare essentials and then cranked to maximum volume.
From the opening notes of ‘Out of the Black’, it was clear that Royal Blood weren’t interested in subtlety; they wanted to rattle your bones. The record charged through with relentless energy, barely letting up. ‘Little Monster’, ‘Figure It Out’, and ‘Come On Over’ became instant festival staples, their riffs tailor-made for massive crowds and raised fists. ‘Ten Tonne Skeleton’ in particular stood out, dark, brooding, and thunderous; it showed that the band could shift gears and build tension without losing their edge.
Despite the stripped-down setup, the band never felt limited. Kerr’s innovative bass rig allowed him to split his signal into both bass and guitar amps, giving their music the bite of a power trio even though there were only two of them onstage. And Ben Thatcher’s drumming gave everything the foundation it needed, tight, muscular, and constantly propelling things forward with controlled chaos.
The debut wasn’t just a success; it was a statement. It went straight to No.1 in the UK and earned them critical acclaim, major festival slots, and comparisons to everyone from Queens of the Stone Age to The White Stripes. But more importantly, it reasserted that rock music could still be exciting, heavy, and relevant in a decade dominated by pop, electronic, and indie sounds. In an era where rock was often written off as dead or stagnant, Royal Blood felt vital, a band bringing back volume and danger without ever sounding retro or nostalgic.
This album didn’t just announce Royal Blood as a band to watch; it reenergised the British rock scene entirely. Their rise felt like proof that a new generation still had time for riffs, and that heaviness and hooks could still go hand in hand.
On the other hand, Catfish and the Bottlemen took a more classic approach to guitar-driven music, delivering a debut album brimming with youthful exuberance and raw, unfiltered energy. 'The Balcony' is the sound of late nights, reckless friendships, and the kind of unfiltered emotion that comes with being young and desperate to live. Its infectious hooks and emotionally charged lyrics captured the highs and lows of young love, lust, heartbreak, and the chaos of your twenties. Critics may have dismissed it as derivative or formulaic, but fans connected with it on a visceral level. There was something honest about its lack of irony, its willingness to wear its heart on its sleeve. In an era when indie music was becoming increasingly introspective or experimental, 'The Balcony' was a much-needed jolt of sincerity and swagger.
The album’s signature anthems, like 'Kathleen' and 'Cocoon', quickly became festival staples. 'Cocoon' in particular stands out for the way it borrows from the relentless drive of Stereophonics' 'Bartender and the Thief', channelling that same punchy riff and call-and-response energy but with a modern indie gloss. 'Pacifier' and 'Fallout' revealed the band’s darker edge, tracks that thrum with frustration, longing, and a sense of emotional fallout, their choruses built for sweaty, communal singalongs in packed venues. Then there’s 'Sidewinder', a song that aches with bittersweet nostalgia and restless yearning, while album closer 'Tyrants' erupts into a cathartic, explosive finale. 'Tyrants' is a slow-burn epic: what starts as a simmering groove explodes into one of the decade’s most euphoric indie outros, a song custom-built for arms-aloft moments at the front of the crowd
For many, this album was their introduction to guitar music, a gateway record that pulled a new generation into the world of indie rock. These were songs built for long nights with friends, for shouting from car windows, for festival fields and the feeling of belonging to something bigger than yourself. 'Kathleen', 'Homesick', and 'Cocoon' each spark with a kind of reckless optimism that only youth can muster, their choruses instantly familiar and ready-made for communal singalongs. Van McCann’s lyrics, often simple and direct, have the feel of diary entries, raw, relatable, and never overthought.
Yet beneath the lad-rock bravado, there’s a surprising vulnerability: tracks like '26', 'Hourglass', and 'Fallout' expose the doubts and insecurities that run beneath the surface, adding real depth to the band’s appeal. It's this blend of honesty, anthemic songwriting, and emotional immediacy that makes 'The Balcony' endure as more than just a soundtrack to a moment; it’s become a rite of passage for a whole generation.
Live, these songs truly came to life. Catfish built their reputation on high-energy gigs and a relentless touring schedule, and 'The Balcony' was the fuel that powered them. From tiny clubs to packed festival tents, fans screamed every lyric like their lives depended on it. The sense of connection between band and audience, between strangers in the crowd, was electric. It’s easy to forget just how dominant they became in the mid-2010s, especially in the UK, where their gigs became rites of passage for a whole generation of indie fans.
While the band's direction may have shifted in the years that followed, the 11 songs on 'The Balcony' remain some of the most iconic indie anthems of the decade. The album didn’t reinvent the wheel, and it wasn’t trying to. What it did was speak directly to a generation, capturing the emotional highs and lows of youth in a way that felt immediate, authentic, and thrilling. It was a snapshot of a moment, and for many, an unforgettable first love with guitar music. 'The Balcony's' impact on indie music cannot be overstated, as it resonated with a generation and left an indelible mark on the music scene.