Let’s face it: 3 p.m. is the cruellest time of the workday. The morning latte has worn off, and the post-lunch crash has you staggering around like an extra from a George A. Romero flick. That’s why, each weekday at 3:01 p.m., we present you with a video hand-picked to kick-start your heart.
The Coachella lineup was announced today, prompting every dingbat with a Twitter account to ask, "Who are the Stone Roses?"
Allow us to field this one.
In the many decades between the industrial revolution and 1989, Britain was an imploding sewer of unrest, violence, misery, and bands like Johnny Hates fucking Jazz.
Yes, there were some moments of levity and relief, like the sudden appearance of the Beatles or that time the IRA blew up the Conservative Party conference in Brighton.
But for the most part, the life of the average Briton was an endless shit sandwich-with-chips made even worse by the constant gnawing fear that you might be killed in your home by Chelsea FC supporters.
Then the Stone Roses released their self-titled debut album, and everything changed.
The entire country dropped a big tab of the purest E, football violence ended overnight, Thatcher was kicked to the fucking curb, and Great Britain was briefly restored to glorious sun-dappled Albion.
A blissful nationwide thaw took hold. An unparalleled appetite for love, life, laughter, and nothing less than the salvation of the British soul was upon all of us; man, woman, child, and beast alike.
It didn't last, of course. In fact it was all over about 40 minutes later. But still.
That's who the Stone Roses are.
Their second album was shit, by the way.