On a stormy night, I dreamed of Sid Vicious
In the days after the Chelsea Hotel
He said I’m running out of time
And I’ve got a story to tell
Of how he went by Simon or sometimes John
And the things mum had done to get by
He spoke of heroin and homelessness
I let him talk and didn’t reply
But then he said that it was Rotten
Who’d first called him Sid
And Rotten is as Rotten does
But it was Malcolm who decided what they did
He looked tired, but he could tell
That there was something on my mind
He paused and looked straight at me
I said, Sid, I’ve got to ask why
Why, he replied, and I wished I’d not started
But he said, spit it out, kid
Why, I repeated, finally
Why the swastikas, Sid?
He looked at his boots and said, you gotta understand
The Pistols had to be a hit
We needed all the shock that we could muster
To shake them all up a bit
Malcolm was a pervert and we were cartoons
The war was over and the bad guys had lost
We made good telly, you know how it is
No one really counted the cost
And it’s not like we were actually Nazis
Just by sporting the kit
Not even Lemmy, he added
And he really loved that shit
Quite the collection of memorabilia
Uniforms, knives, flags and belts
But Lemmy wasn’t a Nazi
He just thought he was better than everyone else
But I’ll tell you this, his voice was fading
I would never wear one now
It was a bit of punk fun in ‘77
But you’ve just got to look around
We had the NF pantomime fascists
In coopted braces and boots
But never politicians and billionaires
Throwing up Nazi salutes
No, I wouldn’t ever wear one now, Sid said
Because someone will wear it and mean it
Don’t tell me you never watch TV
Don’t tell me you’ve never seen it
I would never wear one now, he said
I would never wear one now
One stormy night, I dreamed of Sid Vicious
Though he was long since dead
It was the days after the Chelsea Hotel
And this is what he said
Tag: politics
Model T Music (Slop In/Slop Out)
You are what you read but all you read is your feed
You are what you watch just YouTube and Tiktoks
You are what you listen to, Model T music
Written by robots, use it or lose it
Slop in, slop out
Slop in, slop out
Slop in, slop out
They sold the lifestyle, you bought the tat
Broken tomorrow, never mind that
They sold the sizzle, but you bought the sausage
Stare at the screen, that’s where the slop is
Slop in, slop out
Slop in, slop out
Slop in, slop out
You know where this ends
In the arms of your virtual girlfriend
Slop in, slop out, Model T music
Slop in, slop out, Model T music
Slop in, slop out Model T music
A date with Suno, where will you go
She steals the tunes, just so you know
It’s all a remix, Model T music
Written by robots, use it or lose it
Slop in, slop out
Slop in, slop out
Slop in, slop out
You know where this ends
In the arms of your virtual girlfriend
Slop in, slop out, Model T music
Slop in, slop out, Model T music
Slop in, slop out Model T music
The Bad Guys Are Winning
You can be a bad guy
And just redact your sins
Or find a new god
Who says that bad guys win
Like Little Tommy
In Trafalgar square
Preaching Hey Jesus
Hey look over there
Tommy singing carols
Saying Jesus is born
To a bunch of far-right racists
Sharing kiddie porn
Like Nigel Farage
His Judaeo-Christian values
What he means is anti-Islam
Those are his rules
The bad guys are winning
Make no mistake
The bad guys are winning
Bad guys on the take
Oh woe is me G Beebees
They’re cancelling Christmas
Like it’s only for white folk
It deliberately missed us
The bad guys are winning
It’s hard to deny it
Even Russell the rapist
Says that God made him try it
The bad guys are winning
Here’s the incoming stitch
They say that God don’t say
That you should tax the rich
Thou shalt not tax the rich
Man shalt not lie with man
Thou shalt not scratch that itch
Or worship Islam
The bad guys are winning
Claiming God on their side
But there ain’t no heaven
For their racist pride
Project 2025
Is only the beginning
Donald’s on the case
The bad guys are winning
Go for the trans folk
And rights for women
It’s a simple formula
The bad guys are winning
Gold leaf in the White House
No votes for women
Everything is binary
The bad guys are winning
Just wait for Donny
His bible and his smile and
Saying he found Jesus
On Epstein’s island
The bad guys are wining
Make no mistake
The bad guys are winning
Bad guys on the take
The bad guys are winning
Claiming God on their side
But there ain’t no heaven
For their racist pride
Nazi Steve Bannon says
Tell them it’s God’s will
Make them scared of immigrants
March up the culture hill
The identity playbook
Don’t need a bible
It knows what it’s opposed
Jesus sue ‘em for libel
Jesus the refugee
From Nazareth in Palestine
Jesus with a cool trick
Turning water into wine
Jesus the refugee
Who gave to the poor
Jesus would say what the fuck
Is nationalism even for
The bad guys are wining
Make no mistake
The bad guys are winning
Bad guys on the take
The bad guys are winning
Claiming God on their side
But there ain’t no heaven
For their racist pride
The bad guys are winning
The bad guys are wrong
If you wanna stop them winning
Just keep singing this song
Don’t let the bad guys win…
The Difference Between You And Your Grandad
Your grandad shot at nazis
taxed the rich and built the NHS
You mum fought for equality
and fairness, nonetheless
we sleepwalked into the arms
of bastard billionaires
Now you hang flags from lampposts
and mouth pantomime prayers
Peter The Homeless Santa – Live At Steve’s House
Oh Tommy. F**k Off! – Live at Steve’s House
In Eleanor’s vineyard, Tommy’s on his knees, pretending to pray
He holds his bible upside down and wonders what Charlie would say
His god washed Islamophobic endeavour gains new followers every day
But he’s a coked up criminal grifter who’s going away
And they sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’
They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’
They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’
Sometimes you just got to get it off your chest
They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’
They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’
They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’
Sometimes you just got to get it off your chest
You can’t write everybody off, some folk are just taken in
The difference between influenced and influencers is written on the tin
But when the fascists are at the door be sure to not let them in
And he’s a coked up criminal grifter who should be in the bin
And they sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’
They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’
They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’
Sometimes you just got to get it off your chest
They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’
They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’
They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’
Sometimes you just got to get it off your chest
Now Jesus of Nazareth was many things
But nationalism won’t win you your angel wings
Your patriotic cross is just so much toss
So you can Oh Tommy Tommy off
When they sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’
They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’
They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’
Sometimes you just got to get it off your chest
They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’
They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’
They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’
Sometimes you just got to get it off your chest
Put The Christ Back Into Christmas
Put the Christ back into Christmas
The Islam back into Islamophobia
The bigot back into bigotry
The my back into myopia
Put the St. George back into the cross
Put the hat back into Santa
Put the race back into racism
Put the coke back into Fanta
Put the him back into hymns
Put the nation back into nationalism
Put the Christ back into Christmas
Put the Robinson back into prison
Evidence-Based Punk Rock Is Attila The Stockbroker’s Album Of The Year
You can read it in the paper, here.
The First Of The Fallen
He died for his country
The first of the fallen
From Operation Raise The Colours
The tributes came pouring in
From football hooligans
And casual sisters and brothers
Banned for life from Bristol City
Now he’s banned in Bristol City from life
He leaves behind Michele, his wife
He leaves his ladders to the flag committee
His life was colourful, it’s said
Like the roundabouts he painted red
And the thoughts rushing through his head
With the pavement straight ahead
He died for his country
The first of the fallen
From Operation Raise The Colours
My advice: don’t hang the flags at all
But if you do, get some footed help from others
“This is music made by people who believe art can matter, that songs can change minds, that punk was always about more than three chords and a mohawk.” Evidence-Based Punk Rock Reviewed by Indie Dock Music Blog
There’s a particular breed of British protest music that refuses to die quietly, despite every attempt by algorithms and streaming platforms to suffocate it with playlists and bite-sized consumption. Steve White & The Protest Family’s Evidence-Based Punk Rock belongs to this stubborn lineage, standing defiantly at the crossroads where Billy Bragg’s righteous fury meets the Manic Street Preachers’ conceptual ambition.
What ultimately elevates Evidence-Based Punk Rock above mere agitprop is its refusal to wallow in despair. The press release’s declaration that “things might be grim, but better world is possible” isn’t just marketing copy—it’s the album’s beating heart. In an era where cynicism masquerades as sophistication, there’s something genuinely punk about maintaining hope while clear-eyed about the obstacles.
Read the full review here.
Steve White & The Protest Family 