Excellent Dublin newspaper/blog Rabble has an interesting piece on the Public Dance Halls Act 1935 in Ireland, which remains in force to this day. The Act requires a licence from the state for any dancing 'which is open to the public and in which persons present are entitled to participate actively' and applies broadly not just to pubs and clubs but to any 'place' defined as 'a building (including part of a building), yard, garden, or other enclosed place, whether roofed or not roofed and whether the enclosure and the roofing (if any) are permanent or temporary'. In practice, the police have historically used this even to apply to private houses in some cases.
As Rabble points out, the Act was originally passed on the back of a moral panic about jazz undermining traditional Irish culture - but ironically its implementation undermined that very culture as it was used to stop country dances too.
The future regulation of drinking and dancing in Ireland is a live political subject, with a Sale of Alcohol Bill currently under discussion (see Rabble article).
Showing posts with label Ireland. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ireland. Show all posts
Saturday, April 06, 2013
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Summer rave madness
It's getting hot - time to take the fields and beaches people.
Wicklow (Ireland) - Herald.Ie 18 July 2012
Raves are regularly taking place on the outskirts of the capital, it has emerged.The illegal parties in remote rural and wooded areas in Wicklow have become commonplace despite efforts by gardai to stop them.The raves have been held in areas such as Devil's Glen and Mahermore Beach since 2001 and there have been several already this summer according to one organiser, who spoke on condition of anonymity.
Gardai are working with locals to prevent these raves but are "playing catch-up" according to Rathnew councillor John Snell. "What you're trying to deal with now is social media. Word spreads so quickly that in more cases than not the event is over before the gardai get a handle on them."
He described the nature of the parties as "cloak and dagger kind of stuff...There aren't any posters for these events. Unless you're mixing in these circles, the normal public are not aware until some rural cottages hear the music and alert gardai."
One of Cllr Snell's key concerns was the danger of drug-taking in such remote areas. "There's no medical expertise at these raves. It's a recipe for disaster. It's only a matter of time before life is lost."
Rathdrum Councillor O'Shaughnessy wants tougher action against ravers."The Government needs to bring in stricter sanctions, maybe zero tolerance measures like high fines or custodial sentences," he said.
A rave organiser from the Roundhill area defended the events saying that licensing laws "are prehistoric..They go back to the ballroom days. Clubs here have to close at 2.30 or 3am whereas in Europe they are open until 6am. We are forced to take it into our own hands." He says ravers resent the bad name the Phoenix Park debacle has given them. "There has never been any trouble at these parties. The record speaks for itself, there have never been any assaults"
Dartmoor (England) - BBC 3 June 2012
A suspected illegal rave involving hundreds of people has been stopped on Dartmoor, police have said.
Police said more than 1,200 people and up to 500 cars gathered at Bellever Woods, near Postbridge.
Devon and Cornwall Police said they were called to the site, owned by the Forestry Commission, at about 00:30 BST.Police stopped the gathering and set up road bocks to prevent more people from attending.
A Devon and Cornwall Police spokesman said: "The land is owned by the Forestry Commission and no permission has been sought or granted by them to hold this rave."He added: "We're encouraging those there to leave, and we're certainly preventing any other people from attending."
Norfolk (England) - EDP 17 July 2012
Two vans containing audio equipment and mixing decks were also seized after officers were called to farmland off Yarmouth Road at about 12.35am.More than 200 people were found at the rave with about 60 vehicles, as officers worked to disrupt the event which was safely concluded by midday.
Seven men aged between 20 and 24 were arrested at the scene on suspicion of organising an unlicensed music event and were taken to Wymondham police investigation centre for questioning. One of the suspects was also arrested for taking a motor vehicle without the owners’ consent.
Three more people were arrested for offences relating to the incident. A 25-year-old man was arrested on suspicion of being unfit to drive through drugs while officers arrested a 22-year-old man on suspicion of criminal damage after a fence was damaged by a vehicle.
A 20-year-old woman was arrested in connection with assault after a man suffered minor injuries after being involved in a collision with a car.
Sunday, June 03, 2012
This Feast of Flunkeyism - Agitate, Educate & Organise
On the occasion of Queen Elizabeth's Diamond Jubilee, I am reminded of James Connolly's denunciation of Queen Victoria's Diamond Jubilee in 1897:
'“The great appear great to us, only because we are on our knees: LET US RISE.”
Fellow Workers, The loyal subjects of Victoria, Queen of Great Britain and Ireland, Empress of India, etc., celebrate this year the longest reign on record. Already the air is laden with rumours of preparations for a wholesale manufacture of sham ‘popular rejoicings’ at this glorious (?) commemoration. Home Rule orators and Nationalist Lord Mayors, Whig politicians and Parnellite pressmen, have ere now lent their prestige and influence to the attempt to arouse public interest in the sickening details of this Feast of Flunkeyism...
During this glorious reign Ireland has seen 1,225,000 of her children die of famine, starved to death whilst the produce of her soil and their labour was eaten up by a vulture aristocracy, enforcing their rents by the bayonets of a hired assassin army in the pay of the –best of the English Queens’; the eviction of 3,668,000, a multitude greater than the entire population of Switzerland; and the reluctant emigration of 4,186,000 of our kindred, a greater host than the entire people of Greece. At the present moment 78 percent of our wage-earners receive less than £1 per week, our streets are thronged by starving crowds of the unemployed, cattle graze on our tenantless farms and around the ruins of our battered homesteads, our ports are crowded with departing emigrants, and our poorhouses are full of paupers. Such are the constituent elements out of which we are bade to construct a National Festival of rejoicing!'.
Connolly goes on: 'To you, workers of Ireland, we address ourselves. AGITATE in the workshop, in the field, in the factory, until you arouse your brothers to hatred of the slavery of which we are all the victims. EDUCATE, that the people may no longer be deluded by illusory hopes of prosperity under any system of society of which monarchs or noblemen, capitalists or landlords form an integral part. ORGANISE, that a solid, compact and intelligent force, conscious of your historic mission as a class, you may seize the reins of political power whenever possible and, by intelligent application of the working-class ballot, clear the field of action for the revolutionary forces of the future. Let the ‘canting, fed classes’ bow the knee as they may, be you true to your own manhood, and to the cause of freedom, whose hope is in you, and, pressing unweariedly onward in pursuit of the high destiny to which the Socialist Republic invites you' (full text here).
Agitate, Educate and Organise
I am intrigued by Connolly's use of the Agitate, Educate, Organise meme, a phrase that became common in 20th century radicalism. I wonder about its origins - the earliest reference I have found is from 1882, when the Knights of Labor (a trade union) held what was in effect the first Labor Day parade in New York: 'on Sep 15, 1882, a handful of laborers, organized by Peter McGuire, began a march uptown through lower Manhattan, carrying signs that read Agitate, Educate, Organize and Less Work, More Pay. Mocked by fashionable New Yorkers they continued their trek as more and more laboring men, women, and children joined them. By the time they reached what is now called Union Square, there were over 10,000 strong and cheered by thousands more in the Square. It was the first real Labor Day' (article here). Irish emigrants played a key role in the formation of the Knights of Labor, and later Connolly himself became involved in US radical politics in the 1900s.
Of course the phrase made its way on to 1980s dancefloors via 'How we gonna make the black nation rise' ('we're gonna agitate, educate and organize') by Brother D with The Collective Effort (1980) - one of the earliest explicitly political rap tracks.
In 1987, Irish band (with American singer) That Petrol Emotion used the phrase in their track 'Big Decision' with its rap section 'What you`ve gotta do In this day and age. You gotta agitate, educate, organize'. The track was no doubt influenced more by Brother D than Connolly, but its references to the use of plastic bullets in Ireland put the band in Connolly's republican tradition.
'“The great appear great to us, only because we are on our knees: LET US RISE.”
Fellow Workers, The loyal subjects of Victoria, Queen of Great Britain and Ireland, Empress of India, etc., celebrate this year the longest reign on record. Already the air is laden with rumours of preparations for a wholesale manufacture of sham ‘popular rejoicings’ at this glorious (?) commemoration. Home Rule orators and Nationalist Lord Mayors, Whig politicians and Parnellite pressmen, have ere now lent their prestige and influence to the attempt to arouse public interest in the sickening details of this Feast of Flunkeyism...
During this glorious reign Ireland has seen 1,225,000 of her children die of famine, starved to death whilst the produce of her soil and their labour was eaten up by a vulture aristocracy, enforcing their rents by the bayonets of a hired assassin army in the pay of the –best of the English Queens’; the eviction of 3,668,000, a multitude greater than the entire population of Switzerland; and the reluctant emigration of 4,186,000 of our kindred, a greater host than the entire people of Greece. At the present moment 78 percent of our wage-earners receive less than £1 per week, our streets are thronged by starving crowds of the unemployed, cattle graze on our tenantless farms and around the ruins of our battered homesteads, our ports are crowded with departing emigrants, and our poorhouses are full of paupers. Such are the constituent elements out of which we are bade to construct a National Festival of rejoicing!'.
Connolly goes on: 'To you, workers of Ireland, we address ourselves. AGITATE in the workshop, in the field, in the factory, until you arouse your brothers to hatred of the slavery of which we are all the victims. EDUCATE, that the people may no longer be deluded by illusory hopes of prosperity under any system of society of which monarchs or noblemen, capitalists or landlords form an integral part. ORGANISE, that a solid, compact and intelligent force, conscious of your historic mission as a class, you may seize the reins of political power whenever possible and, by intelligent application of the working-class ballot, clear the field of action for the revolutionary forces of the future. Let the ‘canting, fed classes’ bow the knee as they may, be you true to your own manhood, and to the cause of freedom, whose hope is in you, and, pressing unweariedly onward in pursuit of the high destiny to which the Socialist Republic invites you' (full text here).
Agitate, Educate and Organise
I am intrigued by Connolly's use of the Agitate, Educate, Organise meme, a phrase that became common in 20th century radicalism. I wonder about its origins - the earliest reference I have found is from 1882, when the Knights of Labor (a trade union) held what was in effect the first Labor Day parade in New York: 'on Sep 15, 1882, a handful of laborers, organized by Peter McGuire, began a march uptown through lower Manhattan, carrying signs that read Agitate, Educate, Organize and Less Work, More Pay. Mocked by fashionable New Yorkers they continued their trek as more and more laboring men, women, and children joined them. By the time they reached what is now called Union Square, there were over 10,000 strong and cheered by thousands more in the Square. It was the first real Labor Day' (article here). Irish emigrants played a key role in the formation of the Knights of Labor, and later Connolly himself became involved in US radical politics in the 1900s.
Of course the phrase made its way on to 1980s dancefloors via 'How we gonna make the black nation rise' ('we're gonna agitate, educate and organize') by Brother D with The Collective Effort (1980) - one of the earliest explicitly political rap tracks.
In 1987, Irish band (with American singer) That Petrol Emotion used the phrase in their track 'Big Decision' with its rap section 'What you`ve gotta do In this day and age. You gotta agitate, educate, organize'. The track was no doubt influenced more by Brother D than Connolly, but its references to the use of plastic bullets in Ireland put the band in Connolly's republican tradition.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Dancing Questionnaire (24): Coz, Dublin
Today is St Patrick's Day, and by complete coincidence the latest respondent to the Dancing Questionnaire is Dublin-based Coz who describes himself as '39, Male, Community Radio DJ (on Near FM), Community Worker and Anti-fascist dance lover'.
Can you remember your first experience of dancing?
No, but I can recall my earliest memory of dancing. One of my paternal uncle's had a friend who was a huge Elvis fan and was known on the local club circuit (in Barnsley) for paying tribute to the King. We were fortunate as kids in the famlily to get much closer to the King than those occupying Clubland ever could have and having a mother and father who liked to sing and party in equal measure ensured we were ever present at family get togethers. Naturally, Trevor (The King) would take the stage (front room) at some point and receive the Holy Spirit (Elvis), writhing in contorted ecstasy while he moaned and groaned his way through a repertiore of The King classics. Invariably the kids in the room, who were not yet old enough to be inhbited by the presence of others were implored to provide rhythmic accompaniament by various mothers, fathers, aunts and uncles. So, there I'd be, trying for all I was worth to swing my pre-pubescent hips to the Blue Suede Shoes, Jailhouse Rock and Moody Blue... and I've been swinging em ever since.
What's the most interesting/significant thing that has happened to you while dancing?
Hmm, probably too many to settle on as definitive, but certainly one that will live with me until I die (or develop memory loss) was during a Henry McCullough gig (relatively unknown to me at the time) at the Menagerie in Belfast... just about to swagger onto the dancefloor I was stunned then hugely gratified to see him leap of the stage and whack somone with his guitar who was apparently pissing him off (I knew the protagonist and can certainly vouch for his annoying temperament). It all happened in slo-mo and the ensuing collapse of the PA and the swift ejection of the suitably chastised all added to the surreal moment... and I swear Henry still had his slippers on. Quite remarkable and all I could say to my mate for the rest of the night was, “Now that's fucking rock n roll fella!”
You. Dancing. The Best of times...
Turning 16 in 1989, leaving school and embarking on my first year at college (studying shit you'd never get to study at school) and accompanied by the very 'OST' of an emerging Manchester sound blaring out of the stacks at the Baths Hall in Scunthorpe. For the next 3-4 years I mouched my way across the dancefloors of some pretty grim northern pubs, clubs and parties while the Stone Roses, Charlatans, Happy Mondays, Soup Dragons, Blur, The Farm, EMF, et al made every one of them shine like beacons in what were invariably violent, grubby, and dirty-drug soaked nights out. Hot on their heels came Britpop, personified by the arrogance and egotism of Luke Haines (Auteurs), Brett Anderson (Suede) and Liam Gallagher. Sure, they were mostly aresholes then (and some still are) but my God did they make you feel like there was more to life! And of course, there was and still is. Being young, embarking on life's meandering path and all accompanied by some fantastic anthems... well, I couldn't help but dance.
You. Dancing. The Worst of times...
If I can't dance to it I'm just not dancing... unfortunately that basic standard doesn't apply to a lot of others. The worst offenders? Clearly the pill popping, 2 left feet owning and chequed shirt wearing white (invariably) boys from the estates, whom you'd think would be saved by the simplicity of repetitive beats. But not for some lads (and lasses)... the dance scene undoubtedly brought some Halcyon moments (and still does), but these were often accompanied by some less savoury sites of wide-eyed astonishment. Unfortunatley I joined them on far to many occassions.
Can you give a quick tour of the different dancing scenes/times/places you've frequented?
As a young teen it revolved primarily around the informal self made nights that we created either at people's houses or off the beaten tracks of our estates (local woods were always popular, where you could build a fire from the pallets of the nearby Asda and drink/sniff glue/smoke blow without worrying about being seen by all and sundry). Music was provided through 8-12 battery ghetto blasters and was usually hard rock in them days (ACDC/Maiden/Crue/RATT/G'n'R), with a liberal dosing of punk (Clash/Pistols/Tenpole Tudor/Jam/Stiffs) and something a little bit more commercial (Housemartins/Smiths/New Order/Erasure)... and we pretty must just threw oursleves around whichever house/field/wood we were occupying at the time. Once the doors of pubs and clubs were thrown open to me (at far too early and age it must be said) I entered the world of commercial dross in most cases (chart topping hits and the like) and where girls played second fiddle to the music. Still. I managed to stumble upon the odd decent 'alternative' night/club for a dismal northern town, who regaled me with new and unkown sounds (Joy Division/Wire/Chumbawamba/CRASS/Cure/Television Personalities) that at the very least didn't seem to require any particular knowldege or skill related to fancy footwork. Again, throwing myself around a lot seemed to be the order of the night (or day).
Cue 'baggy' and Acid House and all of a sudden everyone's getting on the nouveau retro bandwagon and suddenly you not only needed to look good on the dancefloor but you needed to know the moves to... needless to say I just kept throwing myself around a lot. It didn't seem to matter... 25 years on and such club nights as Bop Yestrum in Belfast prove that you can play whatever the fuck you like and the primary desire for most people is to just throw themselves about a lot.... while I could always generally find a beat to bop to, the only one I could never get and will probably always regret was the smooth moves of the Northern Soul scene... making a bit of a comeback as a slight post-script to the Acid Jazz scene in Belfast in the mid 90s I was always envious of those old enough to have made sojourns across the country to the Weekenders/All Nighters around legendary places like Wigan Casino. Nothing delights me more than watching the effortless shuffles of those adept at moving to a classic Northern Soul number.
And in the 15 odd years since I've gravitated from one alternative disco/club/shebeen to the next... and pretty much still do. Too cynical to ever become truly immersed in a scene/place I've always thought of my dancing experiences as like brief flirtations, where I get to dip my toe in and feel the beat for a while, but I'll never make a mistress of ya! And having lived in Ireland for the last 20 years many of those 'alt' nights/places have included experiences you wouldn't just tell anybody about... particularly the Rozzers! These days, most dancing takes place at any gig I'm fortunate enough to get at where the cool factor hasn't induced everybody into a steady sway at best. No Means No being a more recent example of how gigs should be enjoyed by a crowd.
When and where did you last dance?
Funky Seomra (pictured below) at the RDS in Dublin – a regular monthly night of dancing with a strong emphasis on the absence of alcohol and the rewards of physical expression. Daunted on arrival, but soon realising it was really a night for 'alt festival' goers without the tents, field, cider, rain/wind/sun/, cheap burgers but still plenty of 'free spirits' trying to commune with their inner child. Despite my inherent cynicism I embraced it whole heartedly and danced my ass off to some real classics (Yeke Yeke/Insomnia/Blue Monday)... so much so I might just do it all again on Paddys Day, which will be a significant achievement in Dublin when drinking till you die appears to be a minimum expectation.
You're on your death bed. What piece of music would make you leap up for one final dance?
Soooo many, but truth be told it'd be a toss up between RATMs Killing in the Name Of and System of a Downs BYOB and Band of Horse's Funeral . I reckon that in most cases I feel like trashing whatevers around me when 2 of these songs are on and given I'd be on my deathbed I might just get away with it on this occasion! The thirds seems apt...
All questionnaires welcome, just answer the same questions - or even make up a few of your own - and send to transpontine@btinternet.com (see previous questionnaires).
Can you remember your first experience of dancing?
No, but I can recall my earliest memory of dancing. One of my paternal uncle's had a friend who was a huge Elvis fan and was known on the local club circuit (in Barnsley) for paying tribute to the King. We were fortunate as kids in the famlily to get much closer to the King than those occupying Clubland ever could have and having a mother and father who liked to sing and party in equal measure ensured we were ever present at family get togethers. Naturally, Trevor (The King) would take the stage (front room) at some point and receive the Holy Spirit (Elvis), writhing in contorted ecstasy while he moaned and groaned his way through a repertiore of The King classics. Invariably the kids in the room, who were not yet old enough to be inhbited by the presence of others were implored to provide rhythmic accompaniament by various mothers, fathers, aunts and uncles. So, there I'd be, trying for all I was worth to swing my pre-pubescent hips to the Blue Suede Shoes, Jailhouse Rock and Moody Blue... and I've been swinging em ever since.
What's the most interesting/significant thing that has happened to you while dancing?
Hmm, probably too many to settle on as definitive, but certainly one that will live with me until I die (or develop memory loss) was during a Henry McCullough gig (relatively unknown to me at the time) at the Menagerie in Belfast... just about to swagger onto the dancefloor I was stunned then hugely gratified to see him leap of the stage and whack somone with his guitar who was apparently pissing him off (I knew the protagonist and can certainly vouch for his annoying temperament). It all happened in slo-mo and the ensuing collapse of the PA and the swift ejection of the suitably chastised all added to the surreal moment... and I swear Henry still had his slippers on. Quite remarkable and all I could say to my mate for the rest of the night was, “Now that's fucking rock n roll fella!”
You. Dancing. The Best of times...
Turning 16 in 1989, leaving school and embarking on my first year at college (studying shit you'd never get to study at school) and accompanied by the very 'OST' of an emerging Manchester sound blaring out of the stacks at the Baths Hall in Scunthorpe. For the next 3-4 years I mouched my way across the dancefloors of some pretty grim northern pubs, clubs and parties while the Stone Roses, Charlatans, Happy Mondays, Soup Dragons, Blur, The Farm, EMF, et al made every one of them shine like beacons in what were invariably violent, grubby, and dirty-drug soaked nights out. Hot on their heels came Britpop, personified by the arrogance and egotism of Luke Haines (Auteurs), Brett Anderson (Suede) and Liam Gallagher. Sure, they were mostly aresholes then (and some still are) but my God did they make you feel like there was more to life! And of course, there was and still is. Being young, embarking on life's meandering path and all accompanied by some fantastic anthems... well, I couldn't help but dance.
You. Dancing. The Worst of times...
If I can't dance to it I'm just not dancing... unfortunately that basic standard doesn't apply to a lot of others. The worst offenders? Clearly the pill popping, 2 left feet owning and chequed shirt wearing white (invariably) boys from the estates, whom you'd think would be saved by the simplicity of repetitive beats. But not for some lads (and lasses)... the dance scene undoubtedly brought some Halcyon moments (and still does), but these were often accompanied by some less savoury sites of wide-eyed astonishment. Unfortunatley I joined them on far to many occassions.
Can you give a quick tour of the different dancing scenes/times/places you've frequented?
As a young teen it revolved primarily around the informal self made nights that we created either at people's houses or off the beaten tracks of our estates (local woods were always popular, where you could build a fire from the pallets of the nearby Asda and drink/sniff glue/smoke blow without worrying about being seen by all and sundry). Music was provided through 8-12 battery ghetto blasters and was usually hard rock in them days (ACDC/Maiden/Crue/RATT/G'n'R), with a liberal dosing of punk (Clash/Pistols/Tenpole Tudor/Jam/Stiffs) and something a little bit more commercial (Housemartins/Smiths/New Order/Erasure)... and we pretty must just threw oursleves around whichever house/field/wood we were occupying at the time. Once the doors of pubs and clubs were thrown open to me (at far too early and age it must be said) I entered the world of commercial dross in most cases (chart topping hits and the like) and where girls played second fiddle to the music. Still. I managed to stumble upon the odd decent 'alternative' night/club for a dismal northern town, who regaled me with new and unkown sounds (Joy Division/Wire/Chumbawamba/CRASS/Cure/Television Personalities) that at the very least didn't seem to require any particular knowldege or skill related to fancy footwork. Again, throwing myself around a lot seemed to be the order of the night (or day).
And in the 15 odd years since I've gravitated from one alternative disco/club/shebeen to the next... and pretty much still do. Too cynical to ever become truly immersed in a scene/place I've always thought of my dancing experiences as like brief flirtations, where I get to dip my toe in and feel the beat for a while, but I'll never make a mistress of ya! And having lived in Ireland for the last 20 years many of those 'alt' nights/places have included experiences you wouldn't just tell anybody about... particularly the Rozzers! These days, most dancing takes place at any gig I'm fortunate enough to get at where the cool factor hasn't induced everybody into a steady sway at best. No Means No being a more recent example of how gigs should be enjoyed by a crowd.
When and where did you last dance?
Funky Seomra (pictured below) at the RDS in Dublin – a regular monthly night of dancing with a strong emphasis on the absence of alcohol and the rewards of physical expression. Daunted on arrival, but soon realising it was really a night for 'alt festival' goers without the tents, field, cider, rain/wind/sun/, cheap burgers but still plenty of 'free spirits' trying to commune with their inner child. Despite my inherent cynicism I embraced it whole heartedly and danced my ass off to some real classics (Yeke Yeke/Insomnia/Blue Monday)... so much so I might just do it all again on Paddys Day, which will be a significant achievement in Dublin when drinking till you die appears to be a minimum expectation.
You're on your death bed. What piece of music would make you leap up for one final dance?
Soooo many, but truth be told it'd be a toss up between RATMs Killing in the Name Of and System of a Downs BYOB and Band of Horse's Funeral . I reckon that in most cases I feel like trashing whatevers around me when 2 of these songs are on and given I'd be on my deathbed I might just get away with it on this occasion! The thirds seems apt...
All questionnaires welcome, just answer the same questions - or even make up a few of your own - and send to transpontine@btinternet.com (see previous questionnaires).
Monday, January 30, 2012
Remembering Bloody Sunday 1972
On January 30th 1972, the British state killed 13 unarmed demonstrators on the streets of Derry (a 14th died as a result of their injuries a few months later). The dead, who included seven teenagers, were:
Report of 1991 London Bloody Sunday demo from An Phoblact, 7th February 1991. The march went from Kilburn to Hyde Park, stopping at the Paddington Green police station in Edgware Road, notorious as the place where many people were taken after being arrested under the Prevention of Terrorism Act. Speakers included Paul Hill, one of the Guildford Four who has been framed for bombings in the 1970s and released after a long campaign in 1989.
Bloody Sunday March in Manchester 1995
John (Jackie) Duddy (aged 17)
Patrick Joseph Doherty (31)
Bernard McGuigan (41)
Hugh Pious Gilmour (17)
Kevin McElhinney (17)
Michael Gerald Kelly (17)
John Pius Young (17)
William Noel Nash (19)
Michael M. McDaid (20)
James Joseph Wray (22)
Gerald Donaghy (17)
Gerald (James) McKinney (34)
William Anthony McKinney (27)
John Johnston (59)
The Bloody Sunday massacre of 30 January 1972 came after four years of popular insurgency in the north of Ireland, sparked by the civil rights marches of 1968. The immediate lead up to the day was described in the text 'From Bloody Sunday to Trafalgar Square' which I had a hand in producing following the 1990 London poll tax riot:
"What became known as Bloody Sunday then has often been, and frequently still is believed to have been, an act of undisciplined slaughter perpetrated by blood-crazed Paras. This assumption though is wrong and to a large extent lets the British establishment off the hook. By assuming that soldiers "ran amok" it puts the blame on individual soldiers who pulled triggers and killed people. Bloody Sunday was a planned, calculated response to a demand for civil rights, designed to terrify organised protesters away from protesting. It fits easily into the catalogue of British involvement in Ireland as a quite logical and even natural event" (Fred Holroyd, ex-British Army Intelligence Officer.)
In August 1971 internment without trial was introduced. On the tenth, Operation Demetrius was launched. 342 people were arrested and nine people killed by troops. In this period experiments in sensory deprivation torture were carried out on some people arrested, with the aim of psychologically breaking them. With hoods placed over their heads, they were made to stand spread-eagled against a wall balanced on their fingertips. They were kept like this for four or five days, being bombarded with white noise and beaten if they moved, denied food, drink, sleep, or access to toilets. At intervals they were taken up in a helicopter and thrown out while just a few feet off the ground having been told that they were hundreds of feet up (they were still wearing their hoods).
In protest at internment, a rent and rates strike was organised which attracted the support of some 40,000 households. By October this had escalated to non-payment of TV, radio, car licences, road tax, ground rent, electricity, gas and hire purchase (this a good idea that we should imitate- after all why stop at not paying the poll tax?). In response to this crisis the Payments of Debt Act was passed, allowing debts to be deducted directly from benefits- no doubt our rulers remembered this idea when they dreamt up the poll tax.
The introduction of internment was accompanied by a 12-month ban on all demonstrations. Despite this, on January 30 1972 tens of thousands of people attended a demonstration in Derry. The state's response to this act of defiance was a cold-blooded massacre. CS Gas and water cannon had already been used by the time the Parachute Regiment came onto the streets and opened fire on the crowd. The Army claimed that they were returning fire, but forensic tests on the 14 people killed showed that none of them had had contact with weapons and no weapons were found anywhere near the bodies'.
The official Bloody Sunday Inquiry eventually concluded in 2010 that the dead were innocent. But for years, the authorities attempted to hide the truth, with an earlier official investigation (the 1972 Lord Widgery report) including all kinds of smears and false claims that the soldiers had come under attack from gunfire and bombs. The fight for the truth was carried on for years by the victims' relatives and their supporters in the Bloody Sunday Justice Campaign.
1990s Bloody Sunday Marches in London
For many years the main mobilisation of the Irish solidarity movement in Britain was for the annual Bloody Sunday commemoration march each January. I went on these marches in the 1990s, they typically attracted between two and five thousand people and started or finished in a north London area with a high Irish population like Kilburn or Archway.
 |
| Report of 1991 demonstration - Troops Out, March 1991 |
A feature of the Bloody Sunday marches was that the far right (BNP etc.) often mobilised to oppose them, so that in the pubs and streets surrounding the demonstrations there would be skirmishes between anti-fascists and racists. In 1990 for instance, three Anti Fascist Action (AFA) members were jailed after notorious Nazi skinhead Nicky Crane was dragged out of a taxi in Kilburn in the vicinity of the Bloody Sunday march. The biggest trouble was on the Bloody Sunday march in 1993, when hundreds of fascists attempted to attack the march at the assembly point in Hyde Park and then again along Edgware Road. 376 fascists were arrested before the march made it to Kilburn where the speakers included Gerry Duddy, whose brother Jack was killed in 1972.
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| 1993 flyer for march called by Bloody Sunday March Organising Committee (Troops Out Movement, Irish in Britain Representation Group, Women & Ireland Network, Black Action and the Wolfe Tone Society) |
Report of the 1993 Bloody Sunday March in London
(written at the time by European Counter Network, London)
'On Saturday 30 January 1993 around 2000 people took part in the annual Bloody Sunday march in London. The march commemorates the day in 1972 when 14 unarmed civil rights demonstrators were shot dead by British paratroopers in Derry in the north of Ireland.
This year the British National Party and other fascist groups had announced their intention to stop what they called an "IRA march". For weeks before the march they leafleted football matches and other venues in an attempt to mobilise support.
On the day more than 350 fascists were arrested by the police, although only five were subsequently charged. The police delayed the start of the Bloody Sunday march, supposedly because of the fascist presence along the route. Eventually the march organisers informed the police that the demonstration was going to start, whether the police allowed it or not. At this point the police backed down and made no further attempt to stop the march.
As the march made its way from Hyde Park to Kilburn, small groups of fascists made occasional pathetic attempts to attack and provoke the march. However nobody was injured, and no demonstrators were arrested.
At the rally at the end of the march there were a number of speakers. These included the brother of one of those killed on Bloody Sunday, a speaker from Sinn Fein, Jim Kelly from the Casement Accused Relatives Committee (whose son is serving life imprisonment in relation to the killing of two soldiers at a Belfast funeral in 1988), and a speaker from the Campaign Against Racism and Fascism who compared the situation in Ireland to the rise in fascist attacks in Germany and elsewhere'.
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| Report from Troops Out, March 1993. Speakers on 1993 London Bloody Sunday demo included Jim Kelly of the Casement Accused Relatives Committeee, Unmesh Desai (Campaign Against Racism and Fascism), Ken Livingstone MP, Mick Conlon (Sinn Fein) and Gerry Duddy whose 17 year old brother Jack was shot dead on Bloody Sunday |
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| 1994 demo leaflet |
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| The 1994 London Bloody Sunday demonstration |
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| Report of 1994 demo with speakers including Ken Livingstone MP, Jeremy Corbyn MP and Hossein Zahir of Campaign Against Racism and Fascism (from An Phoblact, 4 February 1991) |
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1998 London demo flyer
 Martin McGuinness speaks in London on 1998 Bloody Sunday demo |
In 1995 the national Bloody Sunday march took place in Manchester. I noted at the time: ‘The march went well, it was as big as any of the recent London ones (about 2000), and there were four flute bands from Scotland. Two of them were right next to each other which made an amazing soundclash especially when we stopped under bridges'. There were clashes between AFA and fascists in the Clarence pub and along Oxford Road.
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| 'Justice for the Casement Accused' banner in Manchester - an infamous miscarriage of justice case in Belfast. |
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Derry 1992: the twentieth anniversary
In Ireland, one of the biggest remembrance mobilisations was in Derry itself in 1992 on the 20th anniversary. I was there and wrote this report for the 56a Info Shop Bulletin (May 1992):
'My first real taste of the British military presence came when the bus bringing us from Blefast was stopped at an army checkpoint outside of Derry. Troops boarded the bus, with one soldier walking slowly up the bus pointing his rifle at the heads of passengers. In Derry itself the 'security forces' were keepong a low profile (by Irish standards), presumably because of the large international press presence. A low profile involved three helicopters in the sky, armoured police land rovers following the march and heavily armed RUC officers overlooking the route.
The march, organised by the Bloody Sunday Initiative, came at the end of a week of events in the city on the them 'One World, One Struggle' to mark the anniversary of the massacre. Thousands of people marched from the Creggan Estate, through the Bogside and into the Guildhall Square in the City Centre - the planned destination of the 1972 demonstration. As well as contingents from different parts of Ireland, there were supporters from Britain, Germany and elsewhere. A huge 50-foot long banner proclaimed 'We are the people of struggle, ours is the culture of chnage'. Relatives of those killed in 1972 marched at the front, and pictures of the dead were carried by marchers, as well as being displayed on murals along the route). At the end of the route a large crowd listened to speeches from Gerry Adams and Bernadette McAliskey.
Young children threw bottles and stones at the police vehicles (already colourfully decorated by paint bombs), but apart from this traditional local custom there was no trouble. However on the way back to Belfast, a window was smashed in our bus by Loyalists. Two people had to go to hospital to have their eyes examined for glass injuries. Within ten days of the demo three people had been killed by an RUC officer at Sinn Fein's Falls Road offices in Belfast, and five more people had been killed by a pro-British loyalist gang in a bookmakers shop in Belfast's Ormeau Road'.
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| Relatives lead the 1992 Derry march |
So is Bloody Sunday now only of historic interest? No, it is a reminder of the murderous ruthlessness of the establishment when it thinks it may be losing. Prime Minister Edward Heath and the top brass of the army sent the soldiers in that day, and none of them were ever held to account. And in these times when we are supposed to believe that all soldiers are 'heroes' and to welcome the army without question into our schools and our streets, we should not forget that one of their historic functions is to kill civilians when the police lose control.
Bernadette McAliskey told the 1992 rally: ' I remember coming down that hill on that day 20 years ago. People were thinking "What can they do to us?", we are still here after internment and after gassing. But Billy Gallagher said to me "There will be murder in this town before the day is out'. And there was... On that day we knew real, naked fear for the first time. When the bullets were fired, people dived to the ground and crawled away like dogs in fear of their masters... Something else, an innocence died on Bloody Sunday. It was then that we realised that governments kill people'.
Sunday Bloody Sunday
The best known song referring to the events is U2's somewhat ambivalent Sunday Bloody Sunday. John Lennon and Yoko Ono recorded a different song with the same name on their 1972 album Some Time in New York City:
Is there any one amongst you
Dare to blame it on the kids?
Not a soldier boy was bleeding
When they nailed the coffin lids
Is there any one amongst you
Dare to blame it on the kids?
Not a soldier boy was bleeding
When they nailed the coffin lids
Bloody Sunday (This is a Rebel Song) by Hot Ash (1991):
At the Free Derry Corner the slaughter began
Some people fell and some people ran
Our civil rights banner was stained bloody red
At the barricades there they shot three people dead
[post updated 10 June 2022 with additional photos - I have donated photos, leaflets etc. to the Mayday Rooms archive, who are collecting material related to the Troops Out Movement and related Irish solidarity organisations].
More posts on Ireland
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Bobby Sands & The Rhythm of Time
I've been meaning to post for a while on the Irish hunger strike in 1981, an event that had a big impact on me when I was growing up. 30 years ago the hunger strike was in its final weeks - Mickey Devine had been the tenth and last to die on 20 August, and the protest came to an end on 3 October. One thing that makes it hard to write about, at least for me, is that it is hardly ever mentioned in Britain now - even in leftist/anarchist circles. Most people who weren't around at the time are thus unware of what it was all about or the context in which it took place. To try and explain all that is beyond me right now, let alone to convey the feeling of living through these times.
One observation I will make for now is that contrary to the often unengaged nature of art in Britain, the art world is one of the few places where the memory of the hunger strike has lingered, albeit in only a few places. I was reminded of that recently when I saw Richard Hamilton's The Citizen in Tate Britain [top], a painting depicting Bobby Sands (the first hunger striker to die). I was reminded of that again when reflecting on this week's death of Hamilton. His partner Rita Donagh also produced work referencing the H-Blocks, the prison blocks where the protest took place [Single Cell Block, 1982,below].
I also recently watched Steve McQueen's film Hunger, an outstanding meditation on the events with Michael Fassbender playing the part of Sands. It is very evocative of the time, the sound of prison officers' truncheons banging out a rhythm on riot shields (and on the flesh of prisoners) echoed by the sound of dustbin lids being banged on the streets outside by the prisoners' supporters. And the chilling sound of Thatcher's voice...
Of course Bobby Sands was a writer himself, penning the lyrics to Back Home in Derry - most famously recorded by Christy Moore.
Sands' poem The Rhythm of Time mentions, among other things, Wat Tyler, Wounded Knee and Spartacus. I like this version of it set to music by Hot Ash:
Monday, May 09, 2011
Classic Party Scenes (8): The Girl with Green Eyes
The Girl with Green Eyes, starring Rita Tushingham and Lynn Redgrave, is a 1964 film based on Edna O'Brien's novel The Lonely Girl about a brief affair between a working class shop girl up from the country and an older landowner.
It might not win too many prizes for its Irish accents, but it does retain some interest for its Dublin street scenes, and a great episode based around a night out dancing in a nightclub. Dancers are seen twisting on the floor to a live showband, and later in couples.
The scene is the Four Provinces Ballroom (or as it says on the sign 4 Provinces), which was apparently in Dublin's Harcourt Street and later became known as the Television Club before it was demolished in around 1990.
The nightclub scene kicks in around 6:30 into the film.
Lots more Dublin music and cultural history at Come here to me!
It might not win too many prizes for its Irish accents, but it does retain some interest for its Dublin street scenes, and a great episode based around a night out dancing in a nightclub. Dancers are seen twisting on the floor to a live showband, and later in couples.
The scene is the Four Provinces Ballroom (or as it says on the sign 4 Provinces), which was apparently in Dublin's Harcourt Street and later became known as the Television Club before it was demolished in around 1990.
The Rita Tushingham character has to sit out the dancing, as she's forgotten her dancing shoes, but I love her modish look in this scene with button down collar, tie and braces.
The nightclub scene kicks in around 6:30 into the film.
Lots more Dublin music and cultural history at Come here to me!
Monday, March 14, 2011
Birmingham 6
Twenty years ago today - Thursday 14 March 1991 - I was standing in a crowd outside the Old Bailey in London waiting for the release of the Birmingham 6. It was very moving to see the six finally released from prison after 16 years, three months and 21 days in prison for crimes they hadn't committed, but also sad to see these grey haired men who had spent so much of their lives behind bars.
'The news took a minute or two to reach the street - but when it did there was an explosion of noise that sent the pigeons fluttering away in a panic. Some 500 campaigners and friends were wild with joy; there was dancing in the street. They quickly pushed police barriers aside to swarm the Old Bailey's entrance, hugging any relative of the Six they could spot' (Independent, 15 March 1991).
Their's was just one of a number of high profile 'miscarriage of justice' cases from that era in which Irish (Birmingham 6, Guildford 4, Maguire 7) and black people (Tottenham 3) were framed by police and courts. Sure those were different times - with the Irish conflict leading to terrible events on all sides, not least the IRA bombings of the Mulberry Bush and Tavern in the Town pubs in Birmingham in November 1974, in which 21 people died (for which the B6 were wrongly convicted). But in the last couple of years we have seen a man killed by the police and nobody charged (Ian Tomlinson on the G20 protests) and today comes news that 'The policing watchdog is investigating claims that officers colluded in the false arrest of a protester during last year's student demonstrations in London. The Independent Police Complaints Commission confirmed today that it is looking into the circumstances in which a man, who has not been named, suffered a facial injury and was arrested last December'. So keep on your guard.
The Pogues famously released a song Streets of Sorrow/Birmingham 6 that was banned from the airwaves in 1988 under the Conservative government's recently introduced Broadcasting Ban. Home secretary Douglas Hurd used powers under the BBC's Licence and Agreement and the 1981 Broadcasting Act which governs ITV companies, to forbid TV and radio from carrying interviews or direct statements from the IRA, Sinn Féin, and those who 'support or invite support for these organisations'. The Pogues were judged to fall into the latter category and the 'Independent Broadcasting Authority' ruled that the song alleged that "convicted terrorists are not guilty, the Irish people were put at a disadvantage in the courts of the United Kingdom and that it may have invited support for a terrorist organisation such as the IRA".
There were six men in Birmingham
In Guildford there's four
That were picked up and tortured
And framed by the law
And the filth got promotion
But they're still doing time
For being Irish in the wrong place
And at the wrong time
In Ireland they'll put you away in the Maze
In England they'll keep you for seven long days
God help you if ever you're caught on these shores
The coppers need someone
And they walk through that door
You'll be counting years
First five, then ten
Growing old in a lonely hell
Round the yard and the stinking cell
From wall to wall, and back again
A curse on the judges, the coppers and screws
Who tortured the innocent, wrongly accused
For the price of promotion
And justice to sell
May the judged by their judges when they rot down in hell
May the whores of the empire lie awake in their beds
And sweat as they count out the sins on their heads
While over in Ireland eight more men lie dead
Kicked down and shot in the back of the head
(the final two lines refer to the Loughall ambush of 1987 in which seven IRA members and a civilian were executed by the SAS)
'The news took a minute or two to reach the street - but when it did there was an explosion of noise that sent the pigeons fluttering away in a panic. Some 500 campaigners and friends were wild with joy; there was dancing in the street. They quickly pushed police barriers aside to swarm the Old Bailey's entrance, hugging any relative of the Six they could spot' (Independent, 15 March 1991).
Their's was just one of a number of high profile 'miscarriage of justice' cases from that era in which Irish (Birmingham 6, Guildford 4, Maguire 7) and black people (Tottenham 3) were framed by police and courts. Sure those were different times - with the Irish conflict leading to terrible events on all sides, not least the IRA bombings of the Mulberry Bush and Tavern in the Town pubs in Birmingham in November 1974, in which 21 people died (for which the B6 were wrongly convicted). But in the last couple of years we have seen a man killed by the police and nobody charged (Ian Tomlinson on the G20 protests) and today comes news that 'The policing watchdog is investigating claims that officers colluded in the false arrest of a protester during last year's student demonstrations in London. The Independent Police Complaints Commission confirmed today that it is looking into the circumstances in which a man, who has not been named, suffered a facial injury and was arrested last December'. So keep on your guard.
The Pogues famously released a song Streets of Sorrow/Birmingham 6 that was banned from the airwaves in 1988 under the Conservative government's recently introduced Broadcasting Ban. Home secretary Douglas Hurd used powers under the BBC's Licence and Agreement and the 1981 Broadcasting Act which governs ITV companies, to forbid TV and radio from carrying interviews or direct statements from the IRA, Sinn Féin, and those who 'support or invite support for these organisations'. The Pogues were judged to fall into the latter category and the 'Independent Broadcasting Authority' ruled that the song alleged that "convicted terrorists are not guilty, the Irish people were put at a disadvantage in the courts of the United Kingdom and that it may have invited support for a terrorist organisation such as the IRA".
There were six men in Birmingham
In Guildford there's four
That were picked up and tortured
And framed by the law
And the filth got promotion
But they're still doing time
For being Irish in the wrong place
And at the wrong time
In Ireland they'll put you away in the Maze
In England they'll keep you for seven long days
God help you if ever you're caught on these shores
The coppers need someone
And they walk through that door
You'll be counting years
First five, then ten
Growing old in a lonely hell
Round the yard and the stinking cell
From wall to wall, and back again
A curse on the judges, the coppers and screws
Who tortured the innocent, wrongly accused
For the price of promotion
And justice to sell
May the judged by their judges when they rot down in hell
May the whores of the empire lie awake in their beds
And sweat as they count out the sins on their heads
While over in Ireland eight more men lie dead
Kicked down and shot in the back of the head
(the final two lines refer to the Loughall ambush of 1987 in which seven IRA members and a civilian were executed by the SAS)
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Electric Eden
Rob Young’s Electric Eden: Unearthing Britain’s Visionary Music is an ambitious, accomplished and entertaining survey of 100 years of music-making and its associated literature and counter-cultures. Its focus is on the pastoral dream of evergreen Albion, with its core the story of folk music since Cecil Sharp began collecting rural song at the turn of the 20th century. Folk’s various revivals and re-inventions are encompassed, from the use of folk themes in English classical music (e.g. Ralph Vaughan Williams and Peter Warlock), through the proletarian focus of Ewan McColl and A.L. Lloyd and on to folk rock and beyond.
Young is less interested though in ‘folk’ as a specific musical genre, than in the vision he sees underlying it - the use of music as a form of ‘imaginative time travel’ to the ‘succession of golden ages’ (both semi-historical and entirely fictional), found in British culture – Merrie England, Albion, Middle Earth, Avalon, Narnia. As he states in the introduction ‘The ‘Visionary Music’ involved in this book’s title refers to any music that contributes to this sensation of travel between time zones, of retreat to a secret garden, in order to draw strength and inspiration for facing the future’.
This is not a characteristic solely of what is normally defined as ‘folk music’ and he includes within it dreamy English psychedelia, and the work of later visionary musical outsiders such as Kate Bush and Julian Cope.
The stories of Cecil Sharp and Ewen McColl have already been well documented, for me the most interesting parts of the book deal with the subsequent trajectories of late 1960s/1970s folk rock and ‘acid folk’, with their infusions of both Early Music and futuristic psychedelia. As well as covering the obvious reference points (Fairport Convention, Pentangle, Incredible String Band, Nick Drake), Young gives space to many less well known artists such as Bill Fay, Comus and Mr Fox.
After languishing in relative obscurity for many years, some of these have only recently secured the listeners denied them at the time. In another form of time travel, it’s almost as if some of the albums recorded in the late 1960s/70s were set down as ‘time capsules’, to be unheard in their present but acting as a gift to the future that would appreciate them. The paradigmatic examples are of course Nick Drake, who only achieved posthumous fame when his fruit was in the ground, and Vashti Bunyan, whose Just Another Diamond Day sold only a few hundred copies in 1970s and who has only really gained widespread recognition in the last five years or so. I saw her give one of her first major performances at the Folk Britannia 'Daughters of Albion' event at the Barbican in London in 2006, alongside Eliza Carthy, Norma Waterson, Kathryn Williams, Sheila Chandra and Lou Rhodes.
Places and Spaces
Young is very good on place – both the specific landscapes that influenced particular musicans, and the spaces where music was performed. In relation to the former he mentions for instance Maiden Castle in Dorset, inspiration for John Ireland’s Mai-Dun (as well as incidentally the novel Maiden Castle by John Cowper Powys, an author with a similar take on the visionary landscape).
In relation to the latter, he mentions clubs such as Ewen McColl’s Ballads and Blues club/Hootennanay upstairs in the Princess Louise pub in Holborn (founded in 1957) and its later evolution into The Singers Club at the Pindar of Wakefield on Grays Inn Road. In Soho, Russell Quaye’s Skiffle Cellar at 49 Greek Street (1958-60), was replaced at the same address in 1965 by ‘the poky palace of Les Cousins, where the folk monarchy held court, audiences of no more than 150 were routinely treated to mystically revelatory performances. The club never got around to applying for a liquor licence, so patrons consumed tea and sandwiches in a haze of hash smoke, straining to hear the soloists over percussive effects from the cash register’. Denizens included Bert Jansch, Davy Graham, Simon & Garfunkel, John Martyn, Martin Carthy and Roy Harper.
Outside of London in the 1960s, ‘Hertfordshire was already one of the most influential hotbeds of the new folk movement outside of Soho… Herts heads keen for a lungful of marijuana and subterranean entertainment would gather at the Cock in St Albans… Down the road from The Cock brooded the Peahen, where a more traditional, MacColl-style folk-revival club was held’. In nearby Hemel Hempstead, singer Mick Softley ran the Spinning Wheel, while at the Dolphin Coffee Bar, Pete Frame opened Luton Folk Club in 1965.
There's also a good chapter on free festivals, 'Paradise Enclosed', as 'a serious attempt to stake out and remake Utopia in an English field. The temporary tented villages of Britain's outdoor festivals represented a practical attempt to live out the dream of Albion' two hundred years after the Inclosures Act of 1761 and the enclosure of common land.
Some criticisms
In a work of this scale and scope there are bound to be some factual errors of geography (Luton is in Bedfordshire not Hertfordshire) and history (Aleister Crowley was not the founder, or even a founder, of the Golden Dawn). But these are minor quibbles.
There are though a few problems with the framework Young uses for all this rich material. The chief one is its use of the term ‘Britain’s visionary music’ when it is clear that what he is describing is primarily an English phenomenon. Of course there has been plenty of folk music from other parts of the British Isles, but Young barely mentions it. In any event, it has often had a different aesthetic, concerned precisely to differentiate itself from Englishness and commemorating historical conflicts with the 'English' state from Bannockburn to the clearances (in the case of Scottish music).
Although Ireland is clearly not part of Britain, its influence on English folk is also largely unacknowledged here. Did the raucous Dubliners influence those who wanted to take folk in a more rocky direction? Did Irish rebel song envy inspire English political song (Dominic Behan was a key figure in the Singers Club)? Wasn't Thin Lizzy's Whiskey in the Jar one of the biggest folk rock hits? This is left unexplored, and arguably the greatest London folk band of all time - The Pogues - don't even get mentioned.
Young is a better musicologist than a folklorist, and while he is clearly aware that claims of an unbroken folk music tradition stretching back into the mists of time are highly questionable, he seems to want to hold on to some notion of 'pagan survivals' in folk. Despite citing Ronald Hutton in the footnotes, he disregards Hutton's findings that we know very little about the pre-Christian beliefs of the British Isles. Instead he repeats the whole Golden Bough/Wasteland mythology of ritual sacrifice as it if were fact: ‘The gods controlling these cycles needed to be appeased with sacrifices. At first, the leader of the pack, the king himself, was slaughtered before his vital energies began to die off, and a new healthy replacement was appointed in his place’.
Finally, Young does not really explore the potential dark side of all this dabbling with blood and soil. He may be right that many of those working within the folk idiom ‘have been radical spirits, aligned with the political left or just fundamentally unconventional and progressive in outlook’ – something that applies not just to the post-1950s Communist Party revivalists but to earlier pioneers such as Holst and Vaughan Williams who, as Young mentions, hung out with William Morris’s socialist circle in Hammersmith. But it is also true that this look backwards to a pre-capitalist idyll can be profoundly reactionary, and potentially very right wing. In a brief survey of current trends, Young mentions the post-industrial 'neo-folk' scene, but does not refer to the controversies over some of the neo-fascist elements involved (see the new Who Makes the Nazis? blog for more on that).
Now I've read the book (all 664 pages), I will no doubt be spending the rest of the year tracking down some of the music in it that I haven't heard yet.
(see also review at Transpontine of some of the South East London connections)
Young is less interested though in ‘folk’ as a specific musical genre, than in the vision he sees underlying it - the use of music as a form of ‘imaginative time travel’ to the ‘succession of golden ages’ (both semi-historical and entirely fictional), found in British culture – Merrie England, Albion, Middle Earth, Avalon, Narnia. As he states in the introduction ‘The ‘Visionary Music’ involved in this book’s title refers to any music that contributes to this sensation of travel between time zones, of retreat to a secret garden, in order to draw strength and inspiration for facing the future’.
This is not a characteristic solely of what is normally defined as ‘folk music’ and he includes within it dreamy English psychedelia, and the work of later visionary musical outsiders such as Kate Bush and Julian Cope.
The stories of Cecil Sharp and Ewen McColl have already been well documented, for me the most interesting parts of the book deal with the subsequent trajectories of late 1960s/1970s folk rock and ‘acid folk’, with their infusions of both Early Music and futuristic psychedelia. As well as covering the obvious reference points (Fairport Convention, Pentangle, Incredible String Band, Nick Drake), Young gives space to many less well known artists such as Bill Fay, Comus and Mr Fox.
After languishing in relative obscurity for many years, some of these have only recently secured the listeners denied them at the time. In another form of time travel, it’s almost as if some of the albums recorded in the late 1960s/70s were set down as ‘time capsules’, to be unheard in their present but acting as a gift to the future that would appreciate them. The paradigmatic examples are of course Nick Drake, who only achieved posthumous fame when his fruit was in the ground, and Vashti Bunyan, whose Just Another Diamond Day sold only a few hundred copies in 1970s and who has only really gained widespread recognition in the last five years or so. I saw her give one of her first major performances at the Folk Britannia 'Daughters of Albion' event at the Barbican in London in 2006, alongside Eliza Carthy, Norma Waterson, Kathryn Williams, Sheila Chandra and Lou Rhodes.
Places and Spaces
Young is very good on place – both the specific landscapes that influenced particular musicans, and the spaces where music was performed. In relation to the former he mentions for instance Maiden Castle in Dorset, inspiration for John Ireland’s Mai-Dun (as well as incidentally the novel Maiden Castle by John Cowper Powys, an author with a similar take on the visionary landscape).
In relation to the latter, he mentions clubs such as Ewen McColl’s Ballads and Blues club/Hootennanay upstairs in the Princess Louise pub in Holborn (founded in 1957) and its later evolution into The Singers Club at the Pindar of Wakefield on Grays Inn Road. In Soho, Russell Quaye’s Skiffle Cellar at 49 Greek Street (1958-60), was replaced at the same address in 1965 by ‘the poky palace of Les Cousins, where the folk monarchy held court, audiences of no more than 150 were routinely treated to mystically revelatory performances. The club never got around to applying for a liquor licence, so patrons consumed tea and sandwiches in a haze of hash smoke, straining to hear the soloists over percussive effects from the cash register’. Denizens included Bert Jansch, Davy Graham, Simon & Garfunkel, John Martyn, Martin Carthy and Roy Harper.
Outside of London in the 1960s, ‘Hertfordshire was already one of the most influential hotbeds of the new folk movement outside of Soho… Herts heads keen for a lungful of marijuana and subterranean entertainment would gather at the Cock in St Albans… Down the road from The Cock brooded the Peahen, where a more traditional, MacColl-style folk-revival club was held’. In nearby Hemel Hempstead, singer Mick Softley ran the Spinning Wheel, while at the Dolphin Coffee Bar, Pete Frame opened Luton Folk Club in 1965.
There's also a good chapter on free festivals, 'Paradise Enclosed', as 'a serious attempt to stake out and remake Utopia in an English field. The temporary tented villages of Britain's outdoor festivals represented a practical attempt to live out the dream of Albion' two hundred years after the Inclosures Act of 1761 and the enclosure of common land.
Some criticisms
In a work of this scale and scope there are bound to be some factual errors of geography (Luton is in Bedfordshire not Hertfordshire) and history (Aleister Crowley was not the founder, or even a founder, of the Golden Dawn). But these are minor quibbles.
There are though a few problems with the framework Young uses for all this rich material. The chief one is its use of the term ‘Britain’s visionary music’ when it is clear that what he is describing is primarily an English phenomenon. Of course there has been plenty of folk music from other parts of the British Isles, but Young barely mentions it. In any event, it has often had a different aesthetic, concerned precisely to differentiate itself from Englishness and commemorating historical conflicts with the 'English' state from Bannockburn to the clearances (in the case of Scottish music).
Although Ireland is clearly not part of Britain, its influence on English folk is also largely unacknowledged here. Did the raucous Dubliners influence those who wanted to take folk in a more rocky direction? Did Irish rebel song envy inspire English political song (Dominic Behan was a key figure in the Singers Club)? Wasn't Thin Lizzy's Whiskey in the Jar one of the biggest folk rock hits? This is left unexplored, and arguably the greatest London folk band of all time - The Pogues - don't even get mentioned.
Young is a better musicologist than a folklorist, and while he is clearly aware that claims of an unbroken folk music tradition stretching back into the mists of time are highly questionable, he seems to want to hold on to some notion of 'pagan survivals' in folk. Despite citing Ronald Hutton in the footnotes, he disregards Hutton's findings that we know very little about the pre-Christian beliefs of the British Isles. Instead he repeats the whole Golden Bough/Wasteland mythology of ritual sacrifice as it if were fact: ‘The gods controlling these cycles needed to be appeased with sacrifices. At first, the leader of the pack, the king himself, was slaughtered before his vital energies began to die off, and a new healthy replacement was appointed in his place’.
Finally, Young does not really explore the potential dark side of all this dabbling with blood and soil. He may be right that many of those working within the folk idiom ‘have been radical spirits, aligned with the political left or just fundamentally unconventional and progressive in outlook’ – something that applies not just to the post-1950s Communist Party revivalists but to earlier pioneers such as Holst and Vaughan Williams who, as Young mentions, hung out with William Morris’s socialist circle in Hammersmith. But it is also true that this look backwards to a pre-capitalist idyll can be profoundly reactionary, and potentially very right wing. In a brief survey of current trends, Young mentions the post-industrial 'neo-folk' scene, but does not refer to the controversies over some of the neo-fascist elements involved (see the new Who Makes the Nazis? blog for more on that).
Now I've read the book (all 664 pages), I will no doubt be spending the rest of the year tracking down some of the music in it that I haven't heard yet.
(see also review at Transpontine of some of the South East London connections)
Friday, June 18, 2010
Loughinisland 1994
All over the world, pubs and bars are full of people watching the World Cup, drinking, singing, celebrating, commiserating. On this particular day I would like to remember some people who went out to do the same during a previous competition and never came home.
On 18 June 1994, people were watching Ireland play Italy in the Heights bar/O'Toole's, Loughinisland, a small village in County Down in the North of Ireland. Two masked gunmen from the loyalist Ulster Volunteer Force burst in and opened fire, killing six men: Eamon Byrne (aged 39), Barney Green (87), Malcolm Jenkinson (53), Daniel McCreanor (59), Patrick O Hare (35) and Adrian Rogan (34). Five others were injured:
"It was in the second half of the match about 10.20 pm and Ireland were leading 1-0 when the two UVF assassins entered the small bar. There was one available entrance and exit and having effectively trapped their victims inside, two members of the death squad started to fire their automatic weapons. Survivors recounted how the masked UVF men moved from one person to another shooting each between two and five times before running out of ammunition. More than 30 shots were fired from the two assault rifles with almost every bullet striking someone at point blank range... On leaving the bar, one of the UVF death squad was heard by one of he survivors shouting 'Well done boys, good job'" (An Phoblact/Republican News, 23 June 1994).
Nobody was ever convicted, and relatives of the victims have campaigned up to the present to find out the truth, with consistent allegations of the involvement of British security force agents in the attack. At the very least, it seems that some police agents knew that the attack was planned, and it also appears that the police destroyed evidence, in particular the getaway car.
More posts on Ireland
Thursday, February 25, 2010
My Agit Disco mix
Stefan Szczelkun asked me to put together a selection for his Agit Disco series of mixes of political music. You can read my effort at his site as well as previous mixes by the likes of Simon Ford, Stewart Home and Tom Vague. I recommend that you spend some time browsing the whole site and its related blog.
The mix might not win any prizes for DJing, for a start there is no consistent sound as it covers everything from folk to techno via punk. But I can guarantee that there's some stuff here that you won't have heard before - some of it from old cassette tapes of stuff that has never been released.
Tracklisting:
1. UK Decay – For my Country (1980)
2. Karma Sutra – Wake the Red King (1985)
3. No Defences - Keep Running (1985)
4. Bikini Kill – Rebel Girl (1993)
5. Chumbawamba – Fitzwilliam (1985)
6. Hot Ash - Bloody Sunday – This is a Rebel Song (1991)
7. Planxty – Arthur McBride (1973)
8. Half a Person – The Last of England (2006)
9. McCarthy – The Procession of Popular Capitalism (1987)
10. Joe Smooth – Promised Land (1987)
11. Atmosfear – Dancing in Outer Space (1979)
12. Roteraketen – Here to Go (1999)
13. Metatron – Men Who Hate the Law (1993)
14. Lochi – London Acid City (1996)
15. Galliano – Travels the Road (Junglist Dub Mix) (1994)
16. Roy Rankin & Raymond Naptali - New Cross Fire (1981)
17. Afrikan Boy – Lidl (2006)
18. 99 Posse – Salario Garantito (1992)
18. The Ballistic Brothers – London Hooligan Soul (1995)
Introduction
I’ve spent many years cogitating on the politics of music and the music of politics so wasn’t quite sure where to start with an Agitdisco mix. So I’ve decided to loosely follow an autobiographical thread of tracks that I associate with politically significant moments in my life.
UK Decay – For my Country (1980)
I grew up in Luton, where UK Decay were the best of the first wave punk bands. ‘For My Country’ is an anti-war song clearly influenced by the First World War poets (Wilfred Owen’s Dulce et Decorum Est in particular). I was at school when this came out and getting involved in politics for the first time, helping to set up Luton Peace Campaign which became the local branch of the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament, resurgent in the face of plans to locate Cruise nuclear missiles in Britain.
Karma Sutra – Wake the Red King (1985) download
In the mid-1980s I was very involved in the anarcho-punk scene in Luton. Political songs were ten a penny in this milieu, but I guess more significantly the singers (mostly) really meant it – there was no real separation between ‘entertainers’ and ‘activists’. The people going to gigs, forming bands, doing zines, were the same people going hunt sabbing and on Stop the City. At that time I seemed to spend large parts of my life in the back of a van, between gigs, demos and animal rights actions.
The main local band in this scene was Karma Sutra. For a little while I took my Wasp synthesiser down to their practices but it didn’t really work out, so I never played with them live. However, this demo tape version of their track Wake the Red King has my rumbling synth tone at the beginning. The title refers to Alice in Wonderland, I can’t make out all the lyrics but it sounds like the kind of situationist-influenced diatribe they specialised in – they later released an album, Daydreams of a Production Line Worker.
No Defences – Keep Running (1985) download
When people think about anarcho-punk they often have in mind lots of identikit sub-Crass/Conflict thrash punk bands. There was plenty of that – and some of it was really good – but there was also quite a lot of musical diversity, from more melodic humourists like Blyth Power to mutant funksters like Slave Dance. One of the most interesting bands on the whole scene were No Defences, who as far as I know never released a record apart from a track on a compilation album. They were mesmerising live, delivering monotone litanies of abuse and rage over sophisticated time signatures. I saw them at squat gigs in London (including at the Ambulance Station, Old Kent Road), and they came to Luton to play at a hunt sabs benefit gig we put on at Luton Library Theatre, also featuring Chumbawamba. This track was recorded that night (30.5.1985). – ‘we don’t live anywhere, no sense of being in the world…’
Bikini Kill – Rebel Girl (1993)
I was lucky enough to see some of the great post-punk women-led bands live, including The Slits, The Raincoats, Essential Logic, Au Pairs and the Delta 5. The feminism and sexual politics of that time have had a life long influence on me. Ten years later, these bands started getting their critical dues again with the birth of the Riot Grrrl and Queercore scenes. I used to go and see my late friend Katy Watson (of Shocking Pink and Bad Attitude feminist zines) DJing at London queercore clubs including Up to the Elbow and Sick of it All. Bikini Kill were the key US Riot Grrrl band: ‘when she talks I hear the revolution…’.
Chumbawamba – Fitzwilliam (1985)
I was living in Kent when the 1984-5 miners strike started and helped set up a Miners Support Group linked to strikers at the three local pits (now all closed). I was also in Ramsgate in 1985 on the day the Kent miners voted to return to work, ending the strike. It was an intense year for me of pickets, demonstrations, collections and many, many arguments. Chumbawamba played an important role in swinging the anarcho-punk scene behind the strike – initially some people had the ludicrous line of ‘why should I support meat eating men working in an environmentally unsound industry?’. Fitzwilliam describes the end of the strike in a Yorkshire mining village – ‘it won’t be the same in Fitzwilliam again…’ This song was released on ‘Dig This – A Tribute to the Great Strike’. Some years later, I was involved in the Poll Tax Prisoners Support Group (Trafalgar Square Defendants Campaign) and we threw a party at our Brixton flat for a couple of people acquitted of charges relating to the 1990 poll tax riot – one of them an ex-miner from that part of Yorkshire.
Hot Ash - Bloody Sunday - This is a Rebel Song (1991)
I went to Derry in 1992 and took part in the demonstration to mark the 20th anniversary of Bloody Sunday, when 13 people were killed by British troops. This song, from the 1991 Hot Ash album Who Fears to Speak, is about that event. At the start of this track there is a recording of the Jim O’Neill/Robert Allsopp Memorial Flute Band from New Lodge Road in Belfast. I was involved in the Troops Out Movement and prisoner support at this time and went on lots of Irish marches in London and Belfast. There were always flute bands on the march, giving rise to one of my pet theories (which may have no basis whatsoever) that there is a connection between the popularity of bass drum-led republican and loyalist flute bands in N.Ireland and Scotland and the popularity of bass drum-led variants of electronic dance music in these places (e.g happy hardcore and gabber in the late 1990s).
Planxty – Arthur McBride (1973)
Around this time I started to learn to play the mandolin, and began taking part in music sessions in pubs playing mainly Irish and some Scottish tunes. This was a new kind of collective music making for me, more fluid and inclusive than a band format, with less of a boundary between performers and audience – but with each session having its own unwritten rules of operation. The first song I sang on my own, at a party near Elephant and Castle, was the anti-recruiting song Arthur McBride. I learnt it from the version recorded by Planxty on their 1973 debut album. I saw Planxty play in Dublin in 1994, at a big May Day festival to mark the 100th anniversary of the Irish Congress of Trade Unions.
Half a Person – The Last of England (2006) - download
… from here it was a step to writing my own songs. This is a demo version of a little anti-nationalist ditty I have performed a few times, most recently in my ‘Half a Person’ guise at a benefit last year for the Visteon workers at Rampart Social Centre.
McCarthy - The Procession of Popular Capitalism (1987)
I enjoyed the indie-pop jingly jangly guitar scene in the second half of the 1980s and had some great nights at the Camden Falcon, a music pub at its heart. There was little in the way of explicit politics, although the cultivation of a ‘twee’ subjectivity also represented a refusal of ‘adult’ roles of worker/housewife/consumer and (for boys) of macho posturing. Bands like Talulah Gosh were later cited as an influence on the Riot Grrrl scene. McCarthy weren't really part of that scene but they had a similar sound combined with the much more overtly political lyrics of Malcolm Eden. This song is a typically Brechtian tale of penniless pickpockets and wealthy ‘Captains of Industry’, the latter singing ‘This is your country too! Join our procession, that's marching onwards to war’.
Joe Smooth – Promised Land (1987)
In the early 1990s I started going to squat raves and then to a whole range of techno and house clubs. This turned my conception of music and politics upside down, along with other aspects of my life. As a result I have come to see the political significance of a musical event as arising from the relations between people rather than the content of a song or performance. So, for instance, a crowd dancing together in a field to a commercial pop record might be more subversive than an audience in a concert hall listening to socialist songs. Dancefloors and festivals can be important for the constitution of communities and political subjects, almost regardless of the soundtrack. Promised Land is a Chicago house classic that combines this affirmation of community with a hope for a better world, articulated in the religious language frequently used in Black American music: ‘Brothers, Sisters, One Day we will be free. From Fighting, Violence, People Crying in the Streets’. I once heard Chicago legend Marshall Jefferson play this track at a club in Shoreditch.
Atmosfear – Dancing in Outer Space (1979)
I was involved in the Association of Autonomous Astronauts (AAA) from 1995 to 2000. My node of the network was Disconaut AAA, and I was particularly interested in the way space had been used as a speculative playground in jazz, disco and funk, a zone into which could be projected utopian visions of life beyond gravi-capital, racism and poverty (think Sun Ra's Space is the Place or George Clinton's Mothership mythos). Atmosfear's Dancing in Outer Space is a lesser known UK disco/jazz funk classic – this is a Masters at Work remix of the track.
Roteraketen – Here to Go (1999) download
The AAA put out a Rave In Space compilation, and I contributed to this track on it with Jason Skeet (DJ Aphasic). Actually my contribution was mainly supplying the sample and the name. Rote Raketen (red rockets) was the name of a communist cabaret troupe in 1920s Germany. The sample is from Yuri Gagarin's first space flight. I have an ambivalent attitude to the US and Soviet space programmes, undoubtedly rooted in Cold War industrial militarism, but also representing a period of optimism in the possibility of the continual expansion of human subjectivity. One day community-based spaced exploration will be a reality!
Metatron – Men Who Hate the Law (1993)
I was involved with various projects at the 121 Centre in Brixton in the 1990s, and regularly attended the Dead by Dawn nights in the basement playing some of the hardest techno and breakcore to be heard anywhere. Again it was the crowd, the conversations and the antagonistic sonic attitude that constituted the music’s political dimension rather than any lyrical content. Praxis records was the driving force behind the night, this track is from Christoph Fringelli’s Metatron EP, Speed and Politics.
Lochi – London Acid City (1996)
There was a cycle of struggles in the 1990s UK that encompassed the anti-road movement (Twyford Down, Claremont Road, Newbury…), squat parties and Reclaim the Streets. The soundtrack was often a particular variant of hard trance/acid techno associated with the Liberator DJs and Stay Up Forever records. This track was the scene’s ultimate anthem, I believe it was the first record played on the famous Reclaim the Streets party on the M41 motorway in London in 1996. I took part in the party and later was involved in the RTS street party in Brixton in 1998.
Galliano – Travels the Road, Junglist Dub Mix (1994)
The various radical movements of the early 1990s coalesced in the campaign against the government’s Criminal Justice Act in 1994, which brought in new police powers to deal with protests and raves. The high point was a huge demonstration/party/riot in London’s Hyde Park, which I documented in a Practical History pamphlet at the time, ‘The Battle for Hyde Park: Radicals, Ruffians and Ravers, 1855-1994’. This track is from an anti-CJA compilation album called Taking Liberties.
Roy Rankin & Raymond Naptali - New Cross Fire (1981)
In the last few years I have been doing a lot of research into the radical history of South East London. This has included helping put on the Lewisham '77 series of events commemorating the 30th anniversary of the anti-National Front demonstrations, and marking the wider history of racism and resistance in the area. A key historical event was the New Cross Fire in 1981, in which 13 young people died. This is one of a number of reggae tracks about the fire, demonstrating how sound system culture functioned at the time as a means of alternative commentary on current events.
Afrikan Boy – Lidl (2006)
… today that alternative commentary is still alive in grime. I was involved for a while in No Borders and became very aware of the experience of those living at the sharp end of the regime of immigration raids, detention centres and forced deportations. Afrikan Boy, from Nigeria via Woolwich, gives voice to that experience on this track, as well as shoplifting adventures in Lidl and Asda!
99 Posse – Salario Garantito (1992)
I have been influenced a lot over the years by radical ideas and practice from Italy and have visited a few times, most recently last year when I took part in the Electrode festival at the Forte Prenestino social centre in Rome. I first visited in the early 1990s, when I went to the Parco Lambro festival in Milan and visited Radio Sherwood in Padua. 99 Posse are an Italian reggae band named after the Officina 99 social centre in Naples; the title of this song relates to the autonomist demand for a guaranteed income for all, working and unemployed. It comes from a compilation tape called Senza Rabbia Non Essere Felice (Without anger, no happiness) put out in around 1992 by the Centro di Communicazione Antagonista in Bologna.
The Ballistic Brothers – London Hooligan Soul (1995)
Released in 1995, this is a look back over 20 years by the Junior Boys Own posse. It’s their history rather than mine, but there are several points where it overlaps with my own… house music, Ibiza, ‘old bill cracking miners heads’, ‘The Jam at Wembley’, ‘A poll tax riot going on’.
The mix might not win any prizes for DJing, for a start there is no consistent sound as it covers everything from folk to techno via punk. But I can guarantee that there's some stuff here that you won't have heard before - some of it from old cassette tapes of stuff that has never been released.
Tracklisting:
1. UK Decay – For my Country (1980)
2. Karma Sutra – Wake the Red King (1985)
3. No Defences - Keep Running (1985)
4. Bikini Kill – Rebel Girl (1993)
5. Chumbawamba – Fitzwilliam (1985)
6. Hot Ash - Bloody Sunday – This is a Rebel Song (1991)
7. Planxty – Arthur McBride (1973)
8. Half a Person – The Last of England (2006)
9. McCarthy – The Procession of Popular Capitalism (1987)
10. Joe Smooth – Promised Land (1987)
11. Atmosfear – Dancing in Outer Space (1979)
12. Roteraketen – Here to Go (1999)
13. Metatron – Men Who Hate the Law (1993)
14. Lochi – London Acid City (1996)
15. Galliano – Travels the Road (Junglist Dub Mix) (1994)
16. Roy Rankin & Raymond Naptali - New Cross Fire (1981)
17. Afrikan Boy – Lidl (2006)
18. 99 Posse – Salario Garantito (1992)
18. The Ballistic Brothers – London Hooligan Soul (1995)
Introduction
I’ve spent many years cogitating on the politics of music and the music of politics so wasn’t quite sure where to start with an Agitdisco mix. So I’ve decided to loosely follow an autobiographical thread of tracks that I associate with politically significant moments in my life.
UK Decay – For my Country (1980)
I grew up in Luton, where UK Decay were the best of the first wave punk bands. ‘For My Country’ is an anti-war song clearly influenced by the First World War poets (Wilfred Owen’s Dulce et Decorum Est in particular). I was at school when this came out and getting involved in politics for the first time, helping to set up Luton Peace Campaign which became the local branch of the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament, resurgent in the face of plans to locate Cruise nuclear missiles in Britain.
Karma Sutra – Wake the Red King (1985) download
In the mid-1980s I was very involved in the anarcho-punk scene in Luton. Political songs were ten a penny in this milieu, but I guess more significantly the singers (mostly) really meant it – there was no real separation between ‘entertainers’ and ‘activists’. The people going to gigs, forming bands, doing zines, were the same people going hunt sabbing and on Stop the City. At that time I seemed to spend large parts of my life in the back of a van, between gigs, demos and animal rights actions.
The main local band in this scene was Karma Sutra. For a little while I took my Wasp synthesiser down to their practices but it didn’t really work out, so I never played with them live. However, this demo tape version of their track Wake the Red King has my rumbling synth tone at the beginning. The title refers to Alice in Wonderland, I can’t make out all the lyrics but it sounds like the kind of situationist-influenced diatribe they specialised in – they later released an album, Daydreams of a Production Line Worker.
No Defences – Keep Running (1985) download
When people think about anarcho-punk they often have in mind lots of identikit sub-Crass/Conflict thrash punk bands. There was plenty of that – and some of it was really good – but there was also quite a lot of musical diversity, from more melodic humourists like Blyth Power to mutant funksters like Slave Dance. One of the most interesting bands on the whole scene were No Defences, who as far as I know never released a record apart from a track on a compilation album. They were mesmerising live, delivering monotone litanies of abuse and rage over sophisticated time signatures. I saw them at squat gigs in London (including at the Ambulance Station, Old Kent Road), and they came to Luton to play at a hunt sabs benefit gig we put on at Luton Library Theatre, also featuring Chumbawamba. This track was recorded that night (30.5.1985). – ‘we don’t live anywhere, no sense of being in the world…’
Bikini Kill – Rebel Girl (1993)
I was lucky enough to see some of the great post-punk women-led bands live, including The Slits, The Raincoats, Essential Logic, Au Pairs and the Delta 5. The feminism and sexual politics of that time have had a life long influence on me. Ten years later, these bands started getting their critical dues again with the birth of the Riot Grrrl and Queercore scenes. I used to go and see my late friend Katy Watson (of Shocking Pink and Bad Attitude feminist zines) DJing at London queercore clubs including Up to the Elbow and Sick of it All. Bikini Kill were the key US Riot Grrrl band: ‘when she talks I hear the revolution…’.
Chumbawamba – Fitzwilliam (1985)
I was living in Kent when the 1984-5 miners strike started and helped set up a Miners Support Group linked to strikers at the three local pits (now all closed). I was also in Ramsgate in 1985 on the day the Kent miners voted to return to work, ending the strike. It was an intense year for me of pickets, demonstrations, collections and many, many arguments. Chumbawamba played an important role in swinging the anarcho-punk scene behind the strike – initially some people had the ludicrous line of ‘why should I support meat eating men working in an environmentally unsound industry?’. Fitzwilliam describes the end of the strike in a Yorkshire mining village – ‘it won’t be the same in Fitzwilliam again…’ This song was released on ‘Dig This – A Tribute to the Great Strike’. Some years later, I was involved in the Poll Tax Prisoners Support Group (Trafalgar Square Defendants Campaign) and we threw a party at our Brixton flat for a couple of people acquitted of charges relating to the 1990 poll tax riot – one of them an ex-miner from that part of Yorkshire.
Hot Ash - Bloody Sunday - This is a Rebel Song (1991)
I went to Derry in 1992 and took part in the demonstration to mark the 20th anniversary of Bloody Sunday, when 13 people were killed by British troops. This song, from the 1991 Hot Ash album Who Fears to Speak, is about that event. At the start of this track there is a recording of the Jim O’Neill/Robert Allsopp Memorial Flute Band from New Lodge Road in Belfast. I was involved in the Troops Out Movement and prisoner support at this time and went on lots of Irish marches in London and Belfast. There were always flute bands on the march, giving rise to one of my pet theories (which may have no basis whatsoever) that there is a connection between the popularity of bass drum-led republican and loyalist flute bands in N.Ireland and Scotland and the popularity of bass drum-led variants of electronic dance music in these places (e.g happy hardcore and gabber in the late 1990s).
Planxty – Arthur McBride (1973)
Around this time I started to learn to play the mandolin, and began taking part in music sessions in pubs playing mainly Irish and some Scottish tunes. This was a new kind of collective music making for me, more fluid and inclusive than a band format, with less of a boundary between performers and audience – but with each session having its own unwritten rules of operation. The first song I sang on my own, at a party near Elephant and Castle, was the anti-recruiting song Arthur McBride. I learnt it from the version recorded by Planxty on their 1973 debut album. I saw Planxty play in Dublin in 1994, at a big May Day festival to mark the 100th anniversary of the Irish Congress of Trade Unions.
Half a Person – The Last of England (2006) - download
… from here it was a step to writing my own songs. This is a demo version of a little anti-nationalist ditty I have performed a few times, most recently in my ‘Half a Person’ guise at a benefit last year for the Visteon workers at Rampart Social Centre.
McCarthy - The Procession of Popular Capitalism (1987)
I enjoyed the indie-pop jingly jangly guitar scene in the second half of the 1980s and had some great nights at the Camden Falcon, a music pub at its heart. There was little in the way of explicit politics, although the cultivation of a ‘twee’ subjectivity also represented a refusal of ‘adult’ roles of worker/housewife/consumer and (for boys) of macho posturing. Bands like Talulah Gosh were later cited as an influence on the Riot Grrrl scene. McCarthy weren't really part of that scene but they had a similar sound combined with the much more overtly political lyrics of Malcolm Eden. This song is a typically Brechtian tale of penniless pickpockets and wealthy ‘Captains of Industry’, the latter singing ‘This is your country too! Join our procession, that's marching onwards to war’.
Joe Smooth – Promised Land (1987)
In the early 1990s I started going to squat raves and then to a whole range of techno and house clubs. This turned my conception of music and politics upside down, along with other aspects of my life. As a result I have come to see the political significance of a musical event as arising from the relations between people rather than the content of a song or performance. So, for instance, a crowd dancing together in a field to a commercial pop record might be more subversive than an audience in a concert hall listening to socialist songs. Dancefloors and festivals can be important for the constitution of communities and political subjects, almost regardless of the soundtrack. Promised Land is a Chicago house classic that combines this affirmation of community with a hope for a better world, articulated in the religious language frequently used in Black American music: ‘Brothers, Sisters, One Day we will be free. From Fighting, Violence, People Crying in the Streets’. I once heard Chicago legend Marshall Jefferson play this track at a club in Shoreditch.
Atmosfear – Dancing in Outer Space (1979)
I was involved in the Association of Autonomous Astronauts (AAA) from 1995 to 2000. My node of the network was Disconaut AAA, and I was particularly interested in the way space had been used as a speculative playground in jazz, disco and funk, a zone into which could be projected utopian visions of life beyond gravi-capital, racism and poverty (think Sun Ra's Space is the Place or George Clinton's Mothership mythos). Atmosfear's Dancing in Outer Space is a lesser known UK disco/jazz funk classic – this is a Masters at Work remix of the track.
Roteraketen – Here to Go (1999) download
The AAA put out a Rave In Space compilation, and I contributed to this track on it with Jason Skeet (DJ Aphasic). Actually my contribution was mainly supplying the sample and the name. Rote Raketen (red rockets) was the name of a communist cabaret troupe in 1920s Germany. The sample is from Yuri Gagarin's first space flight. I have an ambivalent attitude to the US and Soviet space programmes, undoubtedly rooted in Cold War industrial militarism, but also representing a period of optimism in the possibility of the continual expansion of human subjectivity. One day community-based spaced exploration will be a reality!
Metatron – Men Who Hate the Law (1993)
I was involved with various projects at the 121 Centre in Brixton in the 1990s, and regularly attended the Dead by Dawn nights in the basement playing some of the hardest techno and breakcore to be heard anywhere. Again it was the crowd, the conversations and the antagonistic sonic attitude that constituted the music’s political dimension rather than any lyrical content. Praxis records was the driving force behind the night, this track is from Christoph Fringelli’s Metatron EP, Speed and Politics.
Lochi – London Acid City (1996)
There was a cycle of struggles in the 1990s UK that encompassed the anti-road movement (Twyford Down, Claremont Road, Newbury…), squat parties and Reclaim the Streets. The soundtrack was often a particular variant of hard trance/acid techno associated with the Liberator DJs and Stay Up Forever records. This track was the scene’s ultimate anthem, I believe it was the first record played on the famous Reclaim the Streets party on the M41 motorway in London in 1996. I took part in the party and later was involved in the RTS street party in Brixton in 1998.
Galliano – Travels the Road, Junglist Dub Mix (1994)
The various radical movements of the early 1990s coalesced in the campaign against the government’s Criminal Justice Act in 1994, which brought in new police powers to deal with protests and raves. The high point was a huge demonstration/party/riot in London’s Hyde Park, which I documented in a Practical History pamphlet at the time, ‘The Battle for Hyde Park: Radicals, Ruffians and Ravers, 1855-1994’. This track is from an anti-CJA compilation album called Taking Liberties.
Roy Rankin & Raymond Naptali - New Cross Fire (1981)
In the last few years I have been doing a lot of research into the radical history of South East London. This has included helping put on the Lewisham '77 series of events commemorating the 30th anniversary of the anti-National Front demonstrations, and marking the wider history of racism and resistance in the area. A key historical event was the New Cross Fire in 1981, in which 13 young people died. This is one of a number of reggae tracks about the fire, demonstrating how sound system culture functioned at the time as a means of alternative commentary on current events.
Afrikan Boy – Lidl (2006)
… today that alternative commentary is still alive in grime. I was involved for a while in No Borders and became very aware of the experience of those living at the sharp end of the regime of immigration raids, detention centres and forced deportations. Afrikan Boy, from Nigeria via Woolwich, gives voice to that experience on this track, as well as shoplifting adventures in Lidl and Asda!
99 Posse – Salario Garantito (1992)
I have been influenced a lot over the years by radical ideas and practice from Italy and have visited a few times, most recently last year when I took part in the Electrode festival at the Forte Prenestino social centre in Rome. I first visited in the early 1990s, when I went to the Parco Lambro festival in Milan and visited Radio Sherwood in Padua. 99 Posse are an Italian reggae band named after the Officina 99 social centre in Naples; the title of this song relates to the autonomist demand for a guaranteed income for all, working and unemployed. It comes from a compilation tape called Senza Rabbia Non Essere Felice (Without anger, no happiness) put out in around 1992 by the Centro di Communicazione Antagonista in Bologna.
The Ballistic Brothers – London Hooligan Soul (1995)
Released in 1995, this is a look back over 20 years by the Junior Boys Own posse. It’s their history rather than mine, but there are several points where it overlaps with my own… house music, Ibiza, ‘old bill cracking miners heads’, ‘The Jam at Wembley’, ‘A poll tax riot going on’.
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