Hosts: Neil & Chris

Neil and Chris take an affectionate dive into Feeder's 1997 debut Polythene, a record that made zero immediate impact but eventually went gold anyway. This is album-as-time-capsule material, the kind of British rock that defined the late 90s for anyone who wasn't fixated on Britpop. Neil admits he never owned it back then despite knowing people who loved it, but listening now, he's completely fallen for its fuzzy guitars, organic flow, and total lack of pretension. Chris shares memories of playing Final Fantasy 7 at his mate Martin's house, listening to this exact record, right before accidentally deleting 72 hours of Martin's saved game. The forgiveness was surprisingly quick, apparently, but resentment may still be brewing decades later.

Recorded for just £50,000 at Great Linford Manor with producer Chris Sheldon, the band had full creative freedom, which shows. This feels like three guys working out who they are in real time, borrowing bits from Smashing Pumpkins and filtering American alternative rock through a distinctly British lens. Grant Nicholas writes most of the material, but the collaborative arrangements give everything a live, unforced energy. The album cover remains a mystery, complete with unexplained numbers no one can decode, not even ChatGPT. It's abstract, very 90s, and possibly depicting someone drowning in polythene, a metaphor for isolation and protection that runs through the whole record. Despite debuting at number 65 on the UK charts and never really charting at all, Polythene eventually sold 300,000 copies once later hits like Buck Rogers brought audiences back to discover where Feeder started.

High dominates the conversation, Neil's go-to acoustic cover song whether audiences like it or not, built on suspended chords and an intro that echoes Wonderwall's second-fret shimmer but with a drum beat closer to the Eels. Tangerine and Cement explore being stuck, paralyzed, overwhelmed, concrete shoes and can't swim imagery running through both tracks. Stereo World is pure escapism, drifting from reality into music, while Crash tackles life's sudden twists. The production is bright, clinical, sparse, minimal compression creating dynamic range rare for mid-90s loudness wars. Chris Sheldon's work here parallels his productions on Therapy's Troublegum and Biffy Clyro's Blackened Sky, giving everything room to breathe rather than crushing it flat.

Neil emphasizes how this album flows, each song's beginning and end designed to complement the next, not like Manic Street Preachers or Iron Maiden records where you could jumble the order without losing anything. This curated sequencing makes Polythene feel like proper album craft, something Neil finds increasingly rare. Tracks like Descend and My Perfect Day showcase Grant Nicholas's melodic sensibility, tasteful guitar work that never shreds, placing lead melodies in unexpected structural positions. The Big Muff fuzz tones remind Neil of Napalm Death's guitar sound, that thick fuzzy distortion cutting through without overwhelming. Influences bleed through, Smashing Pumpkins comparisons abound, echoes of Today, Quiet, Bodies scattered throughout, but Feeder's songs go different places, never copying, just absorbing the gene pool.

Polythene represents British rock's quiet confidence, the album that didn't need immediate commercial success because it had substance audiences would eventually discover. While it peaked at number 65 on UK charts upon release, it went gold anyway, an incredibly rare achievement for a non-charting album. Metal Hammer voted it their number one album of 1997, unusual for a record that leans more alternative rock than metal, but the crossover appeal made sense in that era. Reviews gushed then and continue gushing now on anniversary reissues, critics praising its authentic live feel and organic songwriting. This is the debut that showed where Feeder would go, the fledgling work before they found massive success with Echo Park, Yesterday Went Too Soon, Comfort in Sound, all charting in the top ten as they conquered mainstream radio.

Chris Sheldon's production philosophy shines here, refusing to compress everything into oblivion like American rock records of the era, letting dynamics breathe, creating space rather than filling every gap. The bright, clinical, glary sound contrasts sharply with Oasis's Definitely Maybe or the Morning Glory compression that stripped detail away. Polythene feels recorded five years earlier, retaining that early 90s dynamic edge when quiet bits stayed quiet and loud bits hit hard. This album exists alongside 1997 giants like OK Computer, Urban Hymns, In It for the Money, but carved its own lane, the British Pumpkins finding their voice before becoming the anthem-writing machine of Buck Rogers and Just a Day. Neil's right, this is underappreciated, a diamond from the era when discovering music felt special because you had to seek it out rather than streaming everything instantly.

Perfect for: Anyone who lived through 90s British guitar rock and wants to revisit the records that sold quietly but endured, fans of organic debut albums where bands are still learning who they are, producers studying dynamic range and minimal compression techniques, Chris Sheldon admirers who know his work on Therapy and Biffy Clyro, listeners fascinated by albums that charted poorly but went gold anyway through word-of-mouth discovery, people nostalgic for the era when MTV played videos and touring actually sold records, students of Smashing Pumpkins influences filtered through British sensibilities, anyone who needs convincing that Feeder's story didn't start with Buck Rogers, and festival toilet design enthusiasts waiting for Neil to finally book that Sunday Times expert for a proper deep dive.