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Yes I know, I’ve perhaps been reading too much of Mark Fisher of late, but I really do think he was on to something. Perhaps it’s because I’m a child of the 90s, maybe because my first ever proper job gave me a front row seat in the ever-accelerating juggernaut of neoliberal appropriation of the arts and culture via the creative industries, but the more of his work (and those that have built upon it) I encounter, the more it becomes clear that the 90s were a pivotal time in the ossification of capitalist realism.  

And what cultural product epitomised the 90s in Britain more than The Big Breakfast? Amidst a landscape dominated by traditional morning programs that were more-often-than-not old white dudes in suits chatting to politicians of sofas, Channel 4 launched The Big Breakfast in 1992. Not only was it set in a real house (not a TV studio), it was incredibly audacious, eclectic, anarchic at times, and didn’t just disrupt the broadcasting norm, it smashed it to bits with a bright, hyperactive, unpredictable, and overly shouty team of young savvy media types, all on live TV. It was on air for most of the 90s, and its rapid decline in 2001 after a rebrand perhaps speaks even more to its specific relevance as a cultural moment that vanished with the dawn of the twenty first century.

Because for me, The Big Breakfast arguably formulated the cultural conditions of Cool Britannia, the socio-political movement that swept Tony Blair into power in 1997. And as we all know (and Fisher did most ardently), Blair’s political cementing of the neoliberal governance of culture via the creative industries (and their global proliferation as a policy of capitalist accumulation) signalled the death knell of any form of cultural rebellion that was present in the subversive art and mediascapes of 90s Britain. In essence, the brash, anti-establishment and potentially revolutionary subcultures and media artefacts of the 90s became very much part of the capitalist machine of pastiche, nostalgia and desire (a process lampooned so brilliantly and effortlessly by Charlie Brooker and Chris Morris’ Nathan Barley).

The Big Breakfast was a radical departure from the norm of morning TV and resonated with a younger, more dynamic audience who were getting ready for school and university. The show’s informal and spontaneous nature clearly mirrored the burgeoning sense of cultural liberation that was bubbling under the surface of British society, notably it’s ready association with lads’ mag culture (not least via its hosts). It was not just a television program; it was a cultural artifact that captured the zeitgeist of a nation desperate for change from the stuffy Conservatism that Major was trying, and failing, to hold together after Thatcher’s demise.

The eclecticism of the program, and its use of music, art and oddly, shellsuit-wearing puppets showcased emerging British talent in music, fashion, and arts, often featuring bands like Oasis and Blur, who were at the forefront of the Britpop explosion. It catapulted many of its presenters into media mogul status (not least Chris Evans) and celebrated a new wave of British media cool that was confident, eclectic, and unapologetically modern (it is no coincidence that it was on Channel 4, who were pioneering this new form of TV, not least with The Word that started in 1990). This cultural renaissance was not confined to television; it permeated music, fashion, and art, creating a cohesive and influential cultural narrative that was quintessentially British.

However, as Fisher often noted (and I attempted to in my book Against Creativity) the very success of these subversive cultural forms meant they were swiftly absorbed into the mainstream capitalist culture they originally sought to critique, or at least lampoon. The Big Breakfast‘s radical energy was eventually co-opted, its innovations becoming part of the new norm, just as Cool Britannia itself was subsumed by the very neoliberal forces it once seemed to challenge. The transformation of The Big Breakfast from revolutionary to relic is a microcosm of the broader cultural, political and social shifts of the pervasive 90s, where the potential for genuine cultural rebellion was ultimately stifled by the relentless advance of capitalist realism.