Horrified last November by images of the burning effigy of Grenfell Tower, I resorted to song and recorded Nice/Not Nice.
Today we learn that in defence of one of the perpetrators, Paul Bussetti, his lawyer claims his actions to be no worse than those of the Prime Minister, directly quoting Johnson’s “flag-waving piccaninnies” and more.[1]
We warned you in 2008, and again in 2014. He’s not a harmless fool, he’s a dangerous ideologue. The Prime Minister’s racism validates racists. We live in dangerous times.
It was a week for all tastes and pockets,[1]: Trump’s state visit, the second phase of Theresa May’s resignation (announce a date, stay on as caretaker, actually go), Elvis Costello accepting an OBE and blaming his mum; I couldn’t really let it pass without comment. With a nod to one of the characters in The Brexit Trilogy[2], here it is: Donald’s In Town.
It was her birthday
The kids made a card
With folded paper
And fading felt tips
No gifts
No money for gifts
No gifts
No money for gifts
It was demo day
Lots of paint and card
Hoping to go viral
For the Insta crowd
Home made
Witty placard parade
Home made
Witty placard parade
And Theresa sobbed
When she left the job
But it never really made the news
‘Cos Donald’s in town
He was too early
For her birthday
Didn’t bring a card
It’s all about him
This trip
A massive ego trip
This trip (‘s)
A massive ego trip
(It’s got)
Dinner with a duchess
Supper with a princess
Downing Street too
21-gun salute
All missed
21 guns all missed
All missed
21 guns all missed
And Theresa sobbed
When she left the job
But it never really made the news
‘Cos Donald’s in town
On her birthday
Elvis took his place
In the Empire’s order
Tramp the dirt down
In a crown
How do you tramp the dirt down?
In a crown
You can’t tramp the dirt down
(Well)
She smiled at the kids’ card
Laughed at the placard
Mocking the blowhard
Funny as milkshakes
Milkshakes
Running down Tommy’s face
Milkshakes
Running down Tommy’s face
(Save your outrage)
And Theresa sobbed
When she left the job
But it never really made the news
‘Cos Donald’s in town
Steve
[1] Hat-tip: Joe Durston
[2] Doesn’t mean I won’t write more about them
Theresa May’s Brexit deal is dead in the water of her crocodile tears. A fresh Tory leader with the charisma to succeed in Brussels where she has failed seems unlikely; no-deal versus no-Brexit is now the pundit’s favoured battleground, with or without a second referendum.
Dying with May’s career is my Brexit Prayer, performed once at the Fish & Bicycle Club, but there’s renewed interest in former London mayor and foreign secretary Johnson, as the wholly unrepresentative rump that is the Conservative Party membership elects a new prime minister.
Does Johnson have what it takes to make the deal that May failed to, or does Brussels see him for the loathsome charlatan[1] that he is? Speculation at Protest Towers is that the job’s going to an outlier with Johnson waiting to pick up the post-exit pieces once the dust has settled.
In any event, we know a song (or two) about him.
Steve
Hat tip to Jonathan Freedland, writing in the Guardian.
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
From the euro to the pound, it’s debt that makes the wheels go ’round.
If my inbox bulged a little with enquiries as to where my Brexit song was, I can only imagine what Billy Bragg’s looked like as he headed out on the Shine A Light tour with Joe Henry. We know his answer now, it’s Full English Brexit, addressing not his own feelings about the outcome of the EU referendum but attempting to deal with the increasing polarisation of British society that the result has brought. In his own words:
“Brexit and Trump are manifestations of the failure to build a society that works for everyone. Both offer answers, but only to their own supporters. I believe that if we are to overcome the mistrust and disdain that has divided us, to take the first steps towards building that inclusive society that reflects both the traditions and diversity of our country, we need to have some understanding about where our opponents are coming from.
My new song “Full English Brexit” was written in that spirit.”
And that’s the thing. I have no intention of re-hashing the longest essay that I ever wrote on social media, my reasons for voting how I did, or your reasons for voting how you did, but the polls suggest that we’re becoming entrenched, people’s opinions are unchanged and unchanging, and how do we progress as a society when the 48% are writing the 52% off as racists and the 52% are complaining that the 48% are just bad losers? So I’m with Billy here, our response as artists needs to be about building bridges and understanding, and re-discovering our common cause.
To be honest, the whole of the next album was written in the shadow of Brexit. That is to say the shadow of the outcome of the referendum, not the shadow of leaving the EU, which we haven’t even done yet, and it’s presence is felt obliquely in several of the new songs. To deal with what I wanted to deal with meant more of a departure for my songwriting though. The funny-but-true lampooning of people with power, staying true to the axiom of always punching up, wasn’t going to work here.
“Welcome to postcapitalism”
Writing characters happened almost accidentally. Having written a verse and most of a chorus sketching out her life (inspired in part by something that Paul Mason says in PostCapitalism about how “a single mum on benefits, forced into the world of payday loans and buying household goods on credit, can be generating a much higher profit rate for capital than an auto industry worker with a steady job”), I spent a sleepless night wondering where the father of her children had got to. Getting up with the second verse already written in my head, I got it down on paper and thought about where I wanted to go next.
My intention was to make some more general points about debt and the EU which made Greece the obvious setting, but the characters weren’t letting go, and the third verse became her memories of a family holiday in better times. The fourth wrote itself moments later and wrapped up the tale, such as it is, in one line.
They don’t have names yet, this couple. I don’t know if they ever will, but I do know a great deal about them: their looks, attitudes, character, and some of their past. I feel as though I’ve got to know them as they’ve written themselves, with a little help from me.
I have no tune to share with you at the moment. There is one, but I’ll let The Protest Family work their magic on it before setting it free. I can, however, let you have a read of the lyrics:
She drops her eldest at school Old enough to remember when her dad still lived at home Sticks the younger in her buggy In no kind of hurry as she wheels her into town Looking for another payday loan A bit of credit for her phone Looking for a stay of execution While she finds a solution For the payments on the washing machine Before the money’s all gone
But she’s the engine of the economy She’s the grease in the machine Every fiver that she borrows Is a tenner on a banker’s screen Forget about productivity In a greed-based society From the euro to the pound It’s debt that makes the wheels go round
It was a decent enough job Until redundancy came his and his mates way It’s easy to blame the migrant worker When you’re called a shirker by the paper that you buy every day Looking for someone else to blame Drinking away his pain But when the words won’t come But the punches will It’s the ones you love Who are standing in the way
Now he’s the engine of the economy He’s the grease in the machine Every fiver that he borrows Is a tenner on a banker’s screen Forget about productivity In a greed-based society From the euro to the pound It’s debt that makes the wheels go round
There was that holiday in Greece They had a bit of money for a place in the sun, if only for two weeks They were better times She wonders about the people that they met in foreign climes Looking for some happy memories But the pictures on the TV Say they’re struggling And just as broken As she feels on days On days like these
They’re the engine of the economy They’re the grease in the machine Every fiver that they borrow Is a tenner on a banker’s screen Forget about productivity In a greed-based society From the euro to the pound It’s debt that makes the wheels go round
There was that holiday in Greece He had a bit of money to take the family to the beach They were happy times And the people that they met all seemed fine Looking for the reason it all changed Still looking for someone to blame In all the wrong places In all the wrong faces And wondering Is she still the same?
They’re the engine of the economy They’re the grease in the machine Every fiver that they borrow Is a tenner on a banker’s screen Forget about productivity In a greed-based society From the euro to the pound It’s debt that makes the wheels go round
Steve White & The Protest Family 