The Britpop Show with Marc Burrows – The Stand, Glasgow

Timed to coincide with last year’s Oasis reunion and tapping into a broader wave of nostalgia for the 1990s, Marc Burrows’ tour is a fond reminiscence of the formative music that shaped the 45-year-old, his enthusiasm exemplified by, and indeed, amplified when he straps on his Union Jack guitar.

However, this part of the show emphasises how backward-looking and, frankly, plagiarising the era was. And Burrows is sufficiently clear-eyed and cynical enough about Britpop to only occasionally stray into hagiography, even if he semi-seriously underpins his pop culture history with a great man theory that declares three of its central figures to be “geniuses”.

The sometime bassist in steampunk band The Men That Will Not Be Blamed For Nothing, featuring fellow comic Andrew O’Neill, and a widely published music journalist, Burrows hasn’t fully made the transition from accomplished, amusing hack to stand-up. His desire to be balanced, even-handed and comprehensive still too often trumps his need to be mercilessly funny above all else.

Two of his more memorable routines showcase the rough, robust wit of Liam Gallagher and the flailing stage charisma of Jarvis Cocker, appropriations of established artists’ talents. And as Burrows acknowledges, there’s often a slender, almost imperceptible line between homage and rip-off.

Still, he’s an amiable presence at the mic. And unquestionably soaked in his subject. Besides, there’s something resolutely noble in his efforts to persuade his disinterested, 16-year-old stepdaughter of music’s life-enhancing joy.

His nerdery can be schematic to a fault, seeking to define which bands were and weren’t Britpop and what audience members’ favourite acts reveal about their sex life. But these are predominantly self-mocking, diverting tangents. And the latter displays a reasonable capacity to ad-lib and a catholic knowledge of music in its varied forms. He also makes some difficult-to-refute points, such as Britpop’s musical diversity not being reflected in its ethnic or gender make-up.

Such overview, Sunday supplement arguments are frequently stronger than his more personal, anecdotal sections. Having interwoven his sexuality with music, there’s an intriguing tale about him visiting an STD clinic and absorbing an epiphany of Freddie Mercury’s that closes out the first half. Yet it establishes a potentially grim cliff-hanger that’s not referenced post-interval, leaving you bewildered as to its inclusion.

Illustrating the rivalry between Blur and Oasis with compelling trivia and gossip, forensically dissecting the angular frontman moves of Cocker, The Britpop Show is a slow walk down the hall of passable entertainment for those who were there and likewise immersed. I’m just not sure if it holds wider appeal to convert former refuseniks or succeeding generations, Burrows’ endearing meeting of minds with his stepdaughter notwithstanding.