BILLY BRAGG: LIFE'S A RIOT WITH SPY VS. SPY (1983)
1) The Milkman Of Human
Kindness; 2) To Have And To Have Not; 3) Richard; 4) A New England; 5) The Man
In The Iron Mask; 6) The Busy Girl Buys Beauty; 7) Lovers Town Revisited.
This might be the single most influential (or,
at least, most revered) LP in the history of pop music (or, at least, UK pop
music) that takes no more than sixteen minutes in total to tell you
everything it needs to tell you. A much later CD edition has expanded it to
more than twice its length with the addition of demos and rarities, but even
then it was divided into two discs and the first one contained nothing but the
original album — so you don't ever forget the importance of brevity in this
line of artistic business. (I only have the record as part of the 1987 compilation
Back To Basics, so I have not yet heard the additional tracks on the
expanded release).
Now even though for Billy Bragg social activism
and politics have always been every bit as important as his music, Life's A
Riot already clearly shows that he is a «singer-songwriter doing
politics», not a «social activist pretending to be a musician in his spare
time». The thing that he does here was something largely unheard of in 1983:
«folk-punk» in the most literal sense of the word, where the artist is a one-man
band, playing energetic, uptempo tunes on an electric guitar, but using it in
the manner of a folk troubadour. Give the man a complete rhythm section to go
along, and you will have something in between The Clash and Elvis Costello; as
it is, what you have is a modern day Woody Guthrie, updated to reflect
contemporary realities and certain advances in playing, writing, and
verbalizing that took place since the 1940s.
The way to enjoy and understand Billy Bragg is
through his «persona» rather than any specific musical gift. As you see them
here, these songs are neither particularly well written nor amazingly well
performed: sure Billy can write, play, and sing, but there is nothing about
these chord changes, guitar tones, or vocal inflections that has not been done
better by more artists than you will have the chance to listen to in your sweet
short life. However, once you put it all together — his choppy garage-rock
guitar chords, his rough, earnest, Strummer-influenced voice, his deep-reaching
lyrics (way above whatever you'd expect from the average leftist
stereotype), and that stripped-down attitude, as if he were just recreating his
usual busking on the streets of London in the studio — the whole is far more
impressive than the parts.
Besides, at this point it is not even
completely clear if social messages are more important for Billy than pure
expression of emotion: after all, the album opens with ʽThe Milkman Of Human
Kindnessʼ (already an awesome song title, isn't it?), which is basically just a
romantic love song (unless, of course, you want to interpret the line "I
will leave an extra pint" as indication that the protagonist is simply
willing to make love to as many women as there are milk bottles, and that the
current addressee is just one of the many. Ah well, still a romantic
love song, just with an additional Don Giovanni twist then). As the song opens
with loudly blasting, ass-kicking folk-rock guitar chords, you most naturally
expect the opening to be followed with the band kicking in — bass, drums,
second guitar, maybe Al Kooper on the organ or something — but it never does,
and I still wonder just how much better the song could have worked on
its own, if given a full arrangement. Not much better, perhaps, because the
chorus has no well-placed hook (that "I will leave an extra pint" is
merely memorable because it is a fun line delivered accappella for the whole
world to hear and memorize) — but no harm in wondering.
Social conscience begins to kick in with the
second track: ʽTo Have And To Have Notʼ is basically the Clash's ʽJulie's In
The Drug Squadʼ (or some other Clash song, no matter) with new lyrics
("just because you're better than me doesn't mean I'm lazy"), but
since it's more derivative, it's also catchier, and Billy's enthusiasm may even
be more infectious than Strummer's, precisely because of the stripped-down
arrangement. ʽA New Englandʼ makes a subtler point: "I don't want to
change the world / I'm not looking for a new England / I'm just looking for
another girl" could be superficially understood as reluctance to introduce
changes, but in fact, it is quite clear that getting another girl is a
difficult task in old England, so... anyway, the chorus here is probably
the most charismatic spot on the entire record, combining a bit of melancholy,
a bit of puzzled confusion, and a bit of optimism in the face of depressing
odds. Additionally, it's a good example of Billy's way of genre-welding:
"I was 21 years when I wrote this song, I'm 22 now but I won't be for
long" is written and sung as if it were an old talkin' blues (close your
eyes and hear Woody, or Dylan, sing this), but the accompanying guitar is doing
it surf/rockabilly-style. Kinda cool.
The odd man out on this short record is ʽThe
Man In The Iron Maskʼ, which totally eliminates all the garage/punk stylizations,
slows down, and turns to dark European folk for inspiration — again, singing about
torturous unrequited (or betrayed) love rather than social problems, and singing
surprisingly well: given Billy's well-defined, in-yer-face cockney accent all
over the place, his take on the «quasi-medieval balladry» genre works out all
right, as he never falters on the prolonged notes and switches from higher to
lower registers to good effect. Maybe this is not exactly a Lou Reed or a Peter
Hammill level of deep-reaching psychologism, but for just a guy with just a
guitar, this is exceptionally well crafted stuff.
Nevertheless, like I said, Life's A Riot
earns its thumbs up «on the whole», as a
successful first-time stylistic experiment of merging the «wisdom» of old folk
with the «brute force» of new punk, rather than through individual tracks — and
yes, to do that, sixteen minutes are just enough (already the last two
ultra-short songs bordered on «slightly tedious»). Being the people's champion
and all, though, Billy even made sure that you do not get overcharged:
"Pay no more than £2.99 for this 7 track album", the front
cover says in ineffaceable type (which still seems a bit high — that's
something like £9.50 in today's prices, which is the price of a solid CD, but
then again, it looks like three pounds was a fair price for a 12"
release back then). Ironically, the 2-disc edition as sold on Amazon in the UK
goes for £7.89 today — and the cunning bastards have erased the original
small type, replacing it with the boring (but serving its purpose) tag of «30th
Anniversary Edition». Apparently, there's just no getting away from capitalist
swine games even for a true people's champion. Tough world.
That 'I was 21 years...' line is actually a quote from Simon & Garfunkel's 'Leaves That Are Green'.
ReplyDeleteBilly wrote to Paul Simon to ask for permission. I remember an interview where Paul said he had a letter from a "Billy somebody" about the song.
ReplyDelete