Billy Bragg – Opher’s World pays tribute to a genius.

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Billy Bragg – Opher’s World pays tribute to a genius.

Billy burst upon the unsuspecting public in in the post-punk vacuum of 1983. After the acerbic vitriol of Punk it had all gone daft with neo-romantic silliness. The politics and nihilism had burnt itself out.

Billy was an unlikely Rock star and a strange conundrum as a political figure. He was ex-army and opposed to war, a working-class kid from Barking with avowed left-wing politics. Motivated and energised by Punk, particular the stance of the band Clash, he had set out to plough his own furrow oblivious to trends, fashion or the market. He stood out as a voice against inequality, the Tories, racism and the Falklands war. He hit out at the press and the establishment with no punches pulled.

The first time I heard Billy was a short burst on TV of him busking around with a shoulder harness with two speakers, a distorted guitar spitting violence and a nasally voice with a strong North London accent that was never going to make the chorus of any opera. It was forceful and exciting. The lyrics were meaningful and barbed. I was smitten. This was just my cup of tea.

It was no surprise that his raw, aggressive sound appealed to John Peel. He always went for the real stuff as opposed to the overproduced and sophisticated. He supported Billy and gave him a platform. What was surprising was that this unlikely formula of unrefined sound and unleashed politics appealed to a wider audience. His albums began to sell and he even stormed the charts with Between the Wars – a great song about the Falkland travesty. Billy had credibility. He could sing about war because he’d been in the army. He had the perspective.

Far from initially ameliorating his caustic posture his new-found fame was put to use supporting the causes that he felt close to his heart. He put his guitar where his mouth was and got out there supporting the Miners in their struggle against the political machinations of Thatcher and the Tory government and the lies of the media. He took up with Red Wedge to support the Labour Party against the hated Tories. He supported the anti-racist groups. Billy used his fame to promote the causes and views he believed in, performed numerous benefit concerts, news conferences and TV appearances and spoke intelligently with a firm grasp of history and the current political debate. He carved himself a reputation and gathered a following though it alienated a number in the process.

I saw him perform at this time in the Trade & Labour Hall in Hull as part of the Red Wedge tour. There were the Labour MPs Tam Dalyell and John Prescott. This was the time of the Teachers strike action and as a NUT Rep I was organising strike action in my school and speaking at the regional executive. I button-holed Prescott and had a go about the state of education and was he and the Labour Party going to support the teachers. He seemed to think that all teachers were Tory voting middle-class fully fledged members of the enemy. In an expletive laden diatribe, at maximum volume, he said he’d be prepared to give the teacher’s a pay rise in line with the percentage that voted Labour. He was a bit out of touch with reality. Billy, on the other hand, was right on the money. His voice barked, words hit home and guitar scorched with distorted fury. It warmed the blood, sent the neurones buzzing with electricity and sent you home with newfound idealistic fervour. It was a rattling concert.

For me the next series of albums were disappointing. Billy seemed to have watered down his zeal, adopted a more sophisticated approach, learnt to play the guitar so that it sounded normal, toned down his lyrics to deal more with relationships, bought better equipment so that the distortion was no longer there and come up with a more Poppy style. It might have proved more popular. It might have broadened his appeal so that it brought in people from outside his normal sphere of influence but I craved the raw, radical fire-breather.

Fortunately the live concerts were not so watered down and the raw Billy was still there to be heard in all his might and fury. At the end of a concert he was always there to talk and sign albums. There was none of that star posturing and distance. He was the same.

It was no surprise when the Woody Guthrie estate, who were looking for people to put music to, and record, Woody Guthrie lyrics from the large archive Woody had left, that they should turn to Billy. Who better was there? Billy Bragg had been playing and living the same political stance as Woody. He’d stood up there in the face of hostility, on the picket lines and fought for freedom and justice just as Woody had done. The result was magical. Billy brought those Woody Guthrie lyrics to life and captured the spirit of Woody Guthrie perfectly. If Woody had been alive to hear it he would have delighted in the job well done.

Not that Billy had chosen to go back to his early brutal manner; he has done the work with tenderness, sophistication and style but the sincerity and emotion set it apart. This was full of melody and beauty as well as passion and was equal to the best of Billy.

I was delighted to find Billy, with his band featuring Ian McLaughlin of the Smallfaces, doing as rousing performances as even Billy did in his early days. We roared out ‘You fascists bound to lose’ with gusto and left buoyed and energised.

Billy is one of those rare breed who has been true to himself and an inspiration to all around him. His music touches the parts other choruses can’t reach. He continues to knock me out.

The Ballad of Spycatcher – Leon Rosselson

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The more I hear about the antics of the establishment the more chilling it becomes. They actively plot to prevent a Labour government. They even believed Wilson to be a Russian spy and planned a coup! Incredible.

The link to the song is at the end. Give it a listen.

The Ballad of Spycatcher – Leon Rosselson

Now listen children while I sing

this ballad I’ve just made

About a Peter (Wright, not Rabbit), a spycatcher by trade

I’ll sing of how he joined a special gang called MI5

Who guard the nation’s secrets so that liberty may thrive

And of how young Peter, quick to learn, soon got to know the ropes

The trick of picking locks

The art of opening envelopes

And of how the senior officers began their working day

By trying to solve the crossword… in The Times (needless to say) [Chorus]

But of all the strange things I’ll relate

The strangest thing to me

Is that this doggerel I am singing contravenes the Rule of Free

For Nanny (God bless Nanny) Thinks it wouldn’t do

For you to know about the naughty things that grown-up people do [Interlude]

S.F. (Special Facility) was Peter’s favourite toy

And night and day he played with it like any little boy

For bugging rooms and tapping ‘phones were things he loved the best

‘Five years’ said Wright ‘we bugged and burgled at the state’s behest’

We bugged the Russian embassy which wasn’t very chique

So we bugged the French, the Chinese, the Egyptians and the Greek

Bugged Khrushchev’s rooms in Clarriages and listened in with care

While ‘K’ decided on his tie and how to part his hair [Chorus]

But of all the strange things I relate

The strangest thing to me

Is that this doggeral I am singing contravenes the Rule of Free

For Nanny (God bless Nanny) Thinks it wouldn’t do

For you to know about the naughty things that grown-up people do

They bugged colonial conferences

Then they turned their minds to keeping tabs on millitants

and ‘lefties’ of all kinds

Trade-unionists and studens where the targests of their whiles

They burgled C.P. member’s homes and stole the party’s files

And what did it add up to?

And what did it avail?

All this bugging and burgling and intercepting mail

Did it save us from the Russians?

Did it help to keep us free?

Did it keep this country green and pleasant?

Did it buggery!

But of all the strange things I relate

The strangest thing to me

Is that this doggeral I am singing contravenes the Rule of Free

For Nanny (God bless Nanny) Thinks it wouldn’t do

For you to know about the naughty things that grown-up people do

‘The trouble was’ said Wright ‘That we often were mislead’

‘And the Russians always seemed to be a step or two ahead’

‘For what ever MI5 knew, the Russians knew it too’

‘And when we knew they knew we knew, they knew we knew they knew’

Penkovsky, was he theirs or ours? A triumph or a con?

So back-and-forth and round-and-round the maisy dance went on

While Peter set up operations Sunshine, Pigroot, Choir

Dew-worm, Mole (what lovely names!) and saw them all mis-fire

But of all the strange things I relate

The strangest thing to me

Is that this doggeral I am singing contravenes the Rule of Free

For Nanny (God bless Nanny) Thinks it wouldn’t do

For you to know about the naughty things that grown-up people do

‘I fear the worst’ says Peter G ‘And this I can’t fogive:’

‘For years the Secret Service has been leaking like a seive’

‘The evidence is growing there is someone placed on-high’

‘Who’s tipping-off the Russians’

‘A traitor and a spy’

Was it Mitchell?

Was it Hollice (The outfit’s own D.G.)?

‘Incredible!’ I hear you say

But Wright would not agree

His finger points to Hollice

‘I’ll unmask him if I can’

‘He’s ex-public school and Oxford, and I’ve never liked the man’

And now my tales grows farcicle

And should we laugh or cry?

For the C.I.A man Angleton names Wilson as a Spy

And Cecil King in ’68 decides to lead a coup

Against the Wilson government

So strange it must be true

And certain shady businessmen asked Peter for the gen

To do the dirt on Wilson and keep him out of Number 10

And a group of senior officers tell Wright of their intent

To save us from the clutches of a Labour government

But of all the strange things I relate

The strangest thing to me

Is that this doggeral I am singing contravenes the Rule of Free

For Nanny (God bless Nanny) Thinks it wouldn’t do

For you to know about the naughty things that grown-up people do

Now I haven’t time to tell you of those other dirty tricks

Like the plot to bump-off Nasser (but that was MI6)

And of how the C.I.A planned in 1965 to open up their sharky mouth

And swallow MI5 alive

But one more thing I feel that I should bring to your attention:

For all his pains poor Peter never got his propper pension

So why not buy his book yourself and do the man some good

So he can die comfort as ex-spycatchers should

But of all the things I’ve told you

The strangest thing to me

Is that this doggeral I am singing contravenes the Rule of Three

For Nanny (God bless Nanny) Thinks it wouldn’t do

For you to know about the naughty things that spycatchers do

Phil Ochs – I Ain’t Marching Anymore – Great anti-war song lyrics.

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Phil Ochs – I Ain’t Marching Anymore – Great anti-war song lyrics.

Phil Ochs was one of the great ‘Protest’ singers from the sixties. His music was topical with a social and political message.

I’m reclaiming the word ‘Protest’ because it was used pejoratively as a put down by the establishment. There is nothing wrong with protest and dissidence. We need our voices speaking out about madness. They make you stop and think and maybe re-evaluate. Is there a better way? Is this a knee-jerk reaction? Is war the best option?

War – what does it solve? There’s no money to solve poverty or rebuild our slums. Yet miraculously there’s always money for stealth bombers. We built our cities up. We knock ’em down.

We elect psychopaths because they are strong, black and white and clear. We love strong leadership. We react emotionally and hit out instead of rationally and thoughtfully with diplomacy and communication. We like to be strong. We will not be pushed around!

We build them up. We knock ’em down.

Lives are destroyed.

Phil was a voice who spoke out against the madness of war. He thought there was a better way.

I Ain’t Marching Anymore

Oh, I marched to the battle of New Orleans
At the end of the early British war
The young land started growing
The young blood started flowing
But I ain’t marching anymore

For I’ve killed my share of Indians
In a thousand different fights
I was there at the Little Big Horn
I heard many men lying, I saw many more dying
But I ain’t marching anymore

It’s always the old to lead us to the war
It’s always the young to fall
Now look at all we’ve won with the saber and the gun
Tell me is it worth it all

For I stole California from the Mexican land
Fought in the bloody Civil War
Yes, I even killed my brothers
And so many others
But I ain’t marching anymore

For I marched to the battles of the German trench
In a war that was bound to end all wars
Oh, I must have killed a million men
And now they want me back again
But I ain’t marching anymore

It’s always the old to lead us to the war
It’s always the young to fall
Now look at all we’ve won with the saber and the gun
Tell me is it worth it all

For I flew the final mission in the Japanese sky
Set off the mighty mushroom roar
When I saw the cities burning I knew that I was learning
That I ain’t marching anymore

Now the labor leader’s screamin’
When they close the missile plants
United Fruit screams at the Cuban shore
Call it, Peace, or call it, Treason
Call it, Love, or call it, Reason
But I ain’t marching anymore
No, I ain’t marching anymore

Leon Rosselson – Palaces of Gold – Meaningful lyrics.

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Leon Rosselson – Palaces of Gold – Meaningful lyrics.

 

I love Leon Rosselson. I think he is one of Britain’s greatest song writers, perceptive, astute and intelligent.
In this age where the Tories are intent on bringing their dogma to bear and using austerity as an excuse to slash public services (While giving tax hand-outs to the rich) we desperately need people like Leon to point out the inequality and what it means.
Leon and I stand for fairness.
I saw what the Tory cuts did to education first hand as both a teacher and Headteacher.
They are heartless and uncaring when it comes to ordinary people. As far as they are concerned the money could be better spent on larger profits for business.
Their own sons and daughters have the privilege of Public schools, private health-care and gated communities. They have no need for the public services and despise the majority who do. They resent every penny spent on them. If they had to use the same public services the rest of us do there would be a miraculous improvement.
Leon says it better in his song.

Palaces of Gold

If the sons of company directors,
And judges’ private daughters,
Had to got to school in a slum school,
Dumped by some joker in a damp back alley,
Had to herd into classrooms cramped with worry,
With a view onto slagheaps and stagnant pools,
Had to file through corridors grey with age,
And play in a crackpot concrete cage.
Chorus (after each verse):Buttons would be pressed,
Rules would be broken.
Strings would be pulled
And magic words spoken.
Invisible fingers would mould
Palaces of gold.
If prime ministers and advertising executives,
Royal personages and bank managers’ wives
Had to live out their lives in dank rooms,
Blinded by smoke and the foul air of sewers.
Rot on the walls and rats in the cellars,
In rows of dumb houses like mouldering tombs.
Had to bring up their children and watch them grow
In a wasteland of dead streets where nothing will grow.

I’m not suggesting any kind of a plot,
Everyone knows there’s not,
But you unborn millions might like to be warned
That if you don’t want to be buried alive by slagheaps,
Pit-falls and damp walls and rat-traps and dead streets,
Arrange to be democratically born
The son of a company director
Or a judge’s fine and private daughter.

Billy Bragg and Leon Rosselson – World turned upside Down! The Story of the Diggers of St George’s Hill.

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Billy Bragg and Leon Rosselson – World turned upside Down! The Story of the Diggers of St George’s Hill.

I lived down the road from St George’s Hill and even had a girlfriend who lived there but I did not realise anything about its history until much later.

St George’s hill was the centre of a great political struggle. A group of poor people defied the land owners. They claimed that the land was no-ones to own; that is was free. They claimed the right to farm the common land and live in peace.

The land had been seized by the powerful aristocrats. The King and his barons laid claim to it all and parcelled it up between them. They sold it to their cronies. The common people had no rights.

The Diggers on St George’s Hill were attacked by the army and killed and dispersed. Their homes and crops were burnt and they were driven off.

The cruel incident was described in song by Leon Rosselson and covered by Billy Bragg.

The World Turned Upside Down – Leon Rosselson

In 1649
To St. George’s Hill,
A ragged band they called the Diggers
Came to show the people’s will
They defied the landlords
They defied the laws
They were the dispossessed reclaiming what was theirs

We come in peace they said
To dig and sow
We come to work the lands in common
And to make the waste ground grow
This earth divided
We will make whole
So it will be
A common treasury for all

The sin of property
We do disdain
No man has any right to buy and sell
The earth for private gain
By theft and murder
They took the land
Mow everywhere the walls
Spring up at their command

They make the laws
To chain us well
The clergy dazzle us with heaven
Or they damn us into hell
We will not worship
The God they serve
The God of greed who feed the rich
While poor folk starve

We work we eat together
We need no swords
We will not bow to the masters
Or pay rent to the lords
Still we are free men
Though we are poor
You Diggers all stand up for glory
Stand up now

From the men of property
The orders came
They sent the hired men and troopers
To wipe out the Diggers’ claim
Tear down their cottages
Destroy their corn
They were dispersed
But still the vision lingers on

You poor take courage
You rich take care
This earth was made a common treasury
For everyone to share
All things in common
All people one
We come in peace
The orders came to cut them down

Read more: Billy Bragg – The World Turned Upside Down Lyrics | MetroLyrics

The Ten Things that are Buggin’ me today!

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I put this out a month ago and it still holds just as true. They are still bugging me the same.

Woody Guthrie’s guitar slogan – This Machine Kills Fascists’ – An extract from the book ’53 and Imploding’ that I am currently rewriting.

Posted on by Opher

This is an extract from my book.