Tag Archives: music

Pirate President Trump

The people of Barbados
Were buying ventilators
They had all the papers
That they were bought-and-paid-fors
But they were seized
‘Fore they hit the high seas
By the president’s decree
He’s a pirate now

The German police
Had their face masks seized
It’s hard to believe
From a plane in Thailand
Robbed on the tarmac
They just want their masks back
They just got a wisecrack
He’s a pirate now

And it’s a yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum
Here comes Pirate President Trump
Lock up your medicines, here he comes
Its President Trump
He’s a pirate now

He’ll steal your medication,
Your PPE
‘Cos his recovery’s
A month behind the Chinese
He’ll offer big money
For your remedies
Or he’ll take ‘em for free
He’s a pirate now

And it’s a yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum
Here comes Pirate President Trump
Lock up your medicines, here he comes
Its President Trump
He’s a pirate now

Goats!

What happens, when you stay in your room?
What happens, when everyone else does too?
What happens, in the doom and gloom?
You know that nature abhors a vaccum

Goats! Standing on our cars
Goats! Eating stuff that ours
Goats! Great Orme goats at large
In Llandudno, the goats are in charge.

What happens, by the Welsh seaside?
What happens, when everyone stays inside?
What happens, when you’re forced to hide?
A vacuum that nature can’t abide

Goats! Standing on our cars
Goats! Eating stuff that ours
Goats! Great Orme goats at large
In Llandudno, the goats are in charge.

What happens, by the Summit Hotel?
What happens, outside your house as well?
What happens, what’s that farmyard smell?
It’s Mother Nature starting to rebel

Goats! Standing on our cars
Goats! Eating stuff that ours
Goats! Great Orme goats at large
In Llandudno, the goats are in charge.

Goats! An imported species
Goats! From the hills visiting the beaches
Goats! With their Kashmiri fleeces
In Llandudno, the goats are in charge

Goats! Standing on our cars
Goats! Eating stuff that ours
Goats! Great Orme goats at large
In Llandudno, the goats are in charge.

goats

Fly ‘Em Home

They were on the beach when the border closed
The trip of a lifetime they supposed
Cut short when the lockdown
Was imposed

Can they get to the airport, get on a plane?
Someone official needs to explain
Someone official needs to help
To get’em home

Fly ‘em home, to a country that won’t test ‘em
Home, to a country that knows best, and
Home to a country, stressed
By captivity

Fly ‘em home to lousy isolation
Home, to a divided nation
Home, to friends, relations
That they can’t see

Masked and gloved the driver came
At the airport they were all dressed the same
Waiting for a flight
To the infected zone

Tuned in to the expert’s soothing words
And the journalist’s questions dodged, deferred
The death toll’s rising
But they’re going home

Fly ‘em home, to a country that won’t test ‘em
Home, to a country that knows best, and
Home to a country, stressed
By captivity

Fly ‘em home to lousy isolation
Home, to a divided nation
Home, to friends, relations
That they can’t see

We Shall Overcome at What’s Cookin’

“This is about stopping the Tories killing people. We’ll stop them with a raised fist: in the streets, on demonstrations and by organising in our trade unions, our workplaces and our communities. Tonight we’re going to stop them with a helping hand. All tonight’s acts are playing for free, all the money will go to people on the front line of stopping Tories killing people: a food bank, a soup kitchen, and a charity that supports disabled survivors of abuse and hate crime.”

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Picture: Alison Foster

Well, we all needed that after this week: some joy, some solidarity. Never underestimate the healing power of music.

There is perhaps no better band to lift your post-election blues than Commie Faggots, no better R’n’B to dance the night away to than The Beatpack’s, book-ending our favourite ever pub rockers Graham Larkbey & The Escape Committee, the irrepressible Efa Supertramp, our hero Robb Johnson thanking the audience for lifting his spirits and, of course, us, debuting Air Miles Andy and leading a rousing chorus of Bring the Bastards Down.

We emerge this morning bleary-eyed but calmer, with a renewed sense of purpose.

We shall overcome.

The final fundraising figures aren’t in yet, but the legendary What’s Cookin’ whip-round won’t have let us down. If you couldn’t make it but would like to make a contribution, here are the links:

Eat or Heat

The Christian Kitchen

Stay Safe East

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Picture: Dave Craig

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Picture: Dave Craig

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Picture: Dave Craig

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Picture: Dave Craig

Steve

Furry Little Fuckers

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Chicken Squawk pricked my conscience but not enough to make me change. My quiet admiration for vegan friends didn’t push me over the edge. The road to “ethical” meat-eating had been taken via organic and healthy, but the route abandoned on financial grounds. In the end it was a dog, and I stopped looking the other way.

He really loves you, but he’s just a dog
His love is real, as real as analogue
But the pigs share complex emotional responses too
And the cows to do much more than just go “moo”
So before your conscience recovers
Let’s kill and eat the furry little fuckers

Her name’s Daisy and she’s a sheep
The lucky one the farmer decided to keep
Bringing joy to the kids visiting the petting zoo
Who don’t associate her with being food
So before you think about her sisters and her brothers
Let’s kill and eat the furry little fuckers

Or you could tread a little lighter through this world

Her name’s Frankie, his name is Smudge
Grateful for the culture, the home, the love
But the goats and chickens ain’t got that kind of luck
They’re food not friends, their short lives kinda suck
So before your dinner ups and does a runner
Let’s kill and eat the furry little fucker

He likes pork chops and a steak or two
Maccy D’s and KFC too
Shrink-wrapped, pre-packed, juicy, meaty, fleshy food
Doesn’t think about a time when it had hooves
So before he starts to think about his suppers
Let’s kill and eat the furry little fuckers

Or you could tread a little lighter through this world

Furry

Steve

Wanstead Tap

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In front of me is a list of songs that is too long.

Some say that’s a good problem to have, that the converse is worse, but I want to tell a story of a couple embroiled in modern British life under the shadow of Brexit. I want to visit their past and future in happier and sadder songs. I want to sing a pop song about the struggle of our trans comrades. I want to laugh at debate without experts and rage at a system that burns people in their homes. I want to play punk for the animals and tell the tale of a revolution in a small Essex village that grew legs and marched on the capital. I want to mock an institution with its boot still on our necks, and genuinely laud their gardeners.

And I haven’t even started on Little Tommy and his crew.

A bill this good requires compromise, there’s only so much time and some crossing out to do. What gets left behind will get carried over, more on that later.

Steve

The Wakes

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So, who are your influences?

I hate that question and it catches me out every time even though I know it’s coming. Answer that and stay fashionable. I’m a songwriter and I write about what’s going on around me, politically often,  from experience usually,  trying to see things through someone else’s eyes occasionally. I want to write a song with an opening line that tells a whole story in a few words (influence: Billy Bragg), I want to write a song with a clever, funny, persistent rhyme scheme (influence: Ian Dury), I want to write a song that the whole band comes in with a bang right at the beginning (influence: The Clash), I want to write a modern acapella folk song (influence Chumbawamba), I want to write a song about Brexit (influence: David Cameron, Nigel Farage, Boris Johnson, EU directives, the electorate), I want to write a song that exorcises my rage and frustration (influence: Future Of The Left, Christian Fitness), I want to write a song with a killer hook and an immediate singalong chorus (influence The Wildhearts),  I want to write a song about the second-fastest milkcart in the West……

But enough about me.

The Wakes cite The Pogues, Dick Gaughan, The Clash, Dropkick Murphys and Bob Dylan, wisely using the word “including” to avoid making an exhaustive list, which should be enough to give you some idea. Proudly Glaswegian and anti-fascist, I was blown away the first time I saw them live and they come highly recommended by The Family.

You can make your own mind up at the end of the month. The Wakes are opening for Billy Bragg at Islington Assembly Hall on the 25th, and we’re lucky enough to be opening for them on the 26th at the New Cross Inn. If that wasn’t tempting enough, we’ll be joined by our good friend and Bragg favourite, Paddy Nash.

Philosophy Football are already calling it the gig of the year, and you can still get a ticket here.

I suspect that The Wakes’ and Protest Family’s influences Venn diagram has actually got more than one name in the bit where the circles intersect, so who’s going to edit their Wikipedia page and add Uncle Bill?