"Common People" (Pulp)

I never really got into the Britpop movement of the 90s.  I think it's because its poster boys, the Gallagher brothers of Oasis, always came off as self-important pricks who had fashioned themselves as the second coming of Lennon/McCartney.  (They wish.)
Likewise, other members of the movement seemed to revel in a "it's British or it's crap" attitude, which felt less akin to what was happening in Seattle at the time and more like the "proud to be an Amerrikkan" vibe that always permeated mainstream country music--a genre that I just have no time or patience for.  (Pap for people with pablum brains.)  
Britpop purposely didn't feel like it was made for me.
Sure, college radio played "Wonderwall" until it made me want to find a so-called wonderwall and jump off it.  Same with the irritatingly jaunty "Parklife" by Blur (although, I now have a fair amount of respect for Damon Albarn).  I couldn't hear that track without picturing Dick Van Dyke as Bert in Mary Poppins, dancing around the park with those damned penguins.  Only, in this case, Bert was wearing purple-tinted shades with round frames, lifted straight from the pics of the Fab Four in Revolver's liner notes.  
Although, none of the music felt very Beatles-esque to me.  At best, some of the more clever lyrics and tuneful melodies recalled lesser invasion bands, like Herman's Hermits.  Or, at best, the Stones circa 1966-8, when Jagger/Richards were chasing the Fabs and churning out songs that sounded like Lennon/McCartney's jetsam instead of perfecting their own funky soul-blooze stew.
Anyway, one of the other bands that frequently gets lumped into the Britpop genre is Pulp, even though its leader, Jarvis Cocker, never really embraced that label.  Back in college, a friend once commented that Pulp's "Common People" was her all-time favorite song.  She played it for me a couple of times, and I kind of glazed over--to my detriment.  It wasn't until years later, sitting at a karaoke bar in suburban Washington, DC, listening to a group of people caterwauling through Cocker's brilliant lyrics, that I realized she was right: it is an awesome, monumental song.
And it's not really Britpop in my opinion.  It's totally devoid of self-importance; it's a very humble and humbling song (more on that in a sec).  It is distinctly British, though, with its classic exploration of division of the classes: a working class schlub meets this upper class art school chick, who only is interested in him because she wants to have a fling with someone "common."  So what does our hero do?  He takes her to a supermarket for a first date.  (Brilliant, as the Brits would say.)
The song continues to wittily explore this fated relationship over the course of the next few minutes with our hero eventually realizing that the girlfriend can always run to daddy once she tires of her faux Bohemian lifestyle, whereas he's pretty much stuck being "common."  
It's at this point our hero stops seeing the humor in the whole affair and unleashes a scathing indictment that people like her will never understand what it means to truly struggle or fail in life.  Suddenly, the music ramps up and hits you with this Spector-like wall-of-sound, and Cocker shifts from his understated near-whisper that he uses for almost the entire song to an operatic cry that sounds simultaneously triumphant and anguished.   It sends chills down my spine every damn time.
And however you want to classify it (Britpop, alternative, whatever), it is simply one of the best songs written and recorded in the past 20 years.