But without the chronological propellant that might dramatise the cultural acceleration, this book feels rather too much like an annotated list of stuff that happened. New York Times and Sunday Times bestselling author Dylan Jones has written or edited over twenty books. Decades tend to crest halfway through, and 1995 was the year of the Nineties: peak Britpop (Oasis v Blur), peak YBA (Tracey Emin’s tent), peak New Lad (when Nick Hornby published High Fidelity, when James Brown’s Loaded detonated the publishing industry, and when pubs were finally allowed to stay open on a Sunday).

There's before and after and the 12 months of 1995 encapsulated through different areas and trends of the year that came to define the decade. It's an illuminating volume equating the 90s to a retread of the swinging 60s, but a further three decades removed it appears as the last time young working class Britain made its voice properly heard, but I would certainly acknowledge it was a predominantly white led furore, but we were selling exciting ideas in a raw form that we can no longer do given the corporatisation of all facets of life and the squeaky clean sheen given to everything. But then the chapter would be devoted to a particular topic that focused more on the decade at large than the isolated year.

Faster Than A Cannonball starts out by aiming to focus on the year 1995 arguing that the central point of any decade is it's defining feature, the point where all that has come before it accumulates at it's peak. There was an attempt at a critical evaluation towards the end of the book but it was a case of too little, too late in what was otherwise a one sided view. From the YBAs to Britpop to Football, politics, easy listening and The Beatles we discovered what made the 90s tick (besides copious amounts of cocaine) and stick in our collective conscience.

It wasn't for me but that's not to say it won't be enjoyed by others, give it a go if you enjoy this kind of book and have an interest in 1990's culture.You will read more here about David Bailey and Michael Caine than Goldie and Tricky; the Beatles loom larger than club culture.