For British leisure and those things it fosters (music, fashion, advertising, concepts of "youth"), the 1990s have been explosive. Following a renaissance of the club and the dancefloor came mass rave culture and the 'E Generation' - named not merely for the drug known as Ecstasy, but for their fresh and pan-European focus.

What began with kids on cheap package holidays has entirely re-drawn the map of youthful leisure. It now leads from the West End to Eastern Europe, from the beaches of Jamaica to Berlin's Love Parade. Its celebrates many different sorts of star, from DJs like Sven Väth to ensembles like The Orb; from figures like musician Bally Sagoo to footballer Eric Cantona. What their ascent can reveal to culture pundits is a watershed change in communications.

For decades, pop and style have been global and multinational. But they are now linked around the world by something else: digitization, or content reduced to bytes. Existing industry structures continue to favour packages - hence the success of Oasis and the Spice Girls. But most industries are learning from digital change. It sends UK newspapers around the world on the Web; it makes superstars out of suburban DJs.

In 1994, the critic Hugh Gallagher wrote, "There are different DJs for every music style - techno, acid, jazz, hip-hop, ambient - but all of them are essentially doing the same thing: manipulating information. Recorded music is stored information and the best DJ has the best information."

"In a world where information plus technology equals power, those who control the editing rooms run the show. DJs are editors of the street, using technology to structure an alternate sonic reality. They are the first musicians to turn a medium into an instrument - a natural step for a society that spends increasing time interfacing with communications technology."

In the '90s, "interfacing with communications technology" means more than capturing your 21st on a camcorder. It means using automatic cash dispensers, passing through electronic Tube barriers and - for a growing number of young Britons - communicating with the world via satellite, e-mail and the World Wide Web.

It also means learning how these things have changed your neighbours. Journalist Gavin Hills once told me, "My first visit to Sarajevo seemed to like going to Peckham. Everyone was just smoking dope and talking about the football. Plus, they all had bloody great attack dogs. I was more afraid of those dogs than the snipers." There are also DJs spinning in Bosnia, just as there are nightclubs and bands with 'punkish' names such as "Fuck Off". Most of them know the sound they want to imitate. But it's not Oasis; it's Seattle's Nirvana.

In many ways, digital progress and its changes have emanated from the United States more than elsewhere. Certainly, rapacious US conglomerates - from Time-Warner to Disney, Microsoft to MCI - are aiming to conquer Europe. But the tools of digital revolution are unusual, in that they empower more than they limit.

Thus, the "social imperialism" Europeans have loathed for years is beginning, albeit slowly, to change. England, long a depthless fount of style and image, has discovered these assets can be very valuable exports. In the '90s, there are even different role models. John Galliano and "Lee" McQueen rule Paris; Kate Moss and Naomi Campbell have become icons. So, in different ways, have musician Goldie, actor Ewan McGregor, even Prime Minister Tony Blair.

The music for Hollywood's "MTV-era" Romeo & Juliet came from Nellee Hooper, once of Soul II Soul. The cult movie of 1995 - the decade's half-point - was Trainspotting, a double-edged tale of down-and-out Scottish junkies. The '90s fashion editor of America's Vibe magazine is Derrick Procopé, once a window-dresser for London's Woodhouse chain.

Young Britons now clearly feel more "in the world"; part of a single scene which moves from Seattle to Spain, from Amsterdam to Manhattan's Amsterdam Avenue. Yet they are proud (and aware) of what it means to be British. In this respect, many are far ahead of their elders.

This book traces a few paths by which some Britons got there. It mentions some antecedents, and tells a few stories which happened as the 1990s flowered.

More importantly, it aims to listen - as separate kinds of talents tell their histories and detail their strategies. Whether they are making fashion or furniture, political statements or pop records, all have something in common: a special brand of imagination. It is one which fuses style and music with pragmatism, hard work and attitude.

It is a wonderful and very British quality. In the years to come, I hope it continues to flourish.