The return of landfill indie

This month marks the 20th anniversary of Razorlight’s self-titled album, erm, Razorlight.

It’s understandable if this moment wasn’t marked on your calendars. It was, after all, nominated for 'Worst Album' at the 2007 NME Awards, before being narrowly beaten out for the questionable honour by Robbie Williams’ Rudebox.

But the album is notable for being heralded as the start of the landfill indie trend. 

For anyone not lucky enough to be immersed in that particular scene, landfill indie was first coined by music journalist Andrew Harrison to describe a proliferation of formulaic and uninspired British guitar bands. However, it wasn’t Harrison that credited Razorlight with opening the floodgates. That would be Jonny Borrell, Razorlight’s frontman.

Beyond the basic definition, landfill indie was also a vibe. In a retrospective, UK newspaper The Independent described it as “sticky dancefloors, sweaty side-fringes and jeans so skinny they cut off your circulation.” 

These were the days of Two Door Cinema Club, The Pigeon Detectives, The Enemy, The View, The Twang, and Milburn (who, somehow, still have 32,000 monthly listeners on Spotify). There was a formula for sure, but the formula worked.

Why does this matter now? Well, we may be on the verge of a reemergence of this particular cultural trend. 

It fits Gen Z’s lust for anemoia (nostalgia for a time you never really experienced) and analog, with many of those bands releasing their debut albums just before the launch of Spotify and when NME still held sway.

Australia will this year welcome the likes of The Cribs and Razorlight themselves for sentimental tours. 

And just try listening to Charli xcx’s new album and not hearing an echo of 2007. The ultimate cultural tastemaker has pivoted from dancefloor bangers to the jangly guitars that defined landfill indie.

Some eras should stay well and truly in the past. But landfill indie deserves another go round. Bring on the skinny jeans.