Something is enduring about The Bluetones. Formed in Hounslow in 1993, the four-piece — Mark Morriss, Adam Devlin, Scott Morriss, and Eds Chesters — rode the Britpop wave without ever being swept up in its swagger. Their melodic guitar pop and quietly intelligent lyrics offered a thoughtful counterpoint to the louder icons of the era, crafting songs that were more reflection than bravado. With their 1995 breakthrough “Are You Blue or Are You Blind?” leading to the chart-topping “Expecting to Fly”, they delivered era-defining singles like “Bluetonic” and “Slight Return” — music that captured the spirit of the times while standing gracefully apart from it.

While others burned brightly and faded, The Bluetones evolved with calm assurance. Records such as “Return to the Last Chance Saloon”, “Science & Nature”, and “Luxembourg” showed a band maturing with style — melodic, witty, and unhurried by trends. After a brief farewell in 2011, their return reignited affection from old fans and introduced their catalogue to new ones, with Mark Morriss’s solo work carrying the same charm and clarity. Calling them “Britpop survivors” undersells their legacy; they transcended it. Three decades on, The Bluetones remain proof that melody, grace, and intelligence never go out of tune.

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Bristol has a habit of turning chaos into culture, and My First Time is its latest proof. The quartet of Isaac Stroud-Allen, Jordanna Forsey, James Mellen, and Niamh “Naia” Jones make noise with purpose — part satire, part social study, all swagger. Their self-styled “post-pop” isn’t just post-punk with polish; it’s a sharp, funny, three-minute snapshot of modern absurdity. Debut single “Wind Up Merchant” crashed the airwaves on BBC Radio 1 and 6 Music, and by 2025, they’d gone from student gigs to a Parlophone deal without losing their grin. Beneath the bite is intent — songs that pick apart hustle culture, online vanity, and the contradictions of growing up digital.

Their sound pulls from Elastica, Nirvana, and LCD Soundsystem, yet feels distinctly their own: scuffed guitars, jump-cut rhythms, and choruses that punch and wink in equal measure. Live, they’re a glorious mess — sweat, laughter, and a synth player who may or may not exist. Recent single “Much Better” skewers the myth of “making it” with lines that bite at the industry’s glossy surface, while their shows remind you why music still matters at ground level. My First Time might joke about selling out, but right now they’re too busy shaking things up — and if there’s any justice, they’ll do it on much bigger stages soon.