BRAGGING WITH BILLY

BRAGGING WITH BILLY

by

Ira Robbins

For a homely socialist who—literally— couldn’t get arrested in New York a few years ago, self-described spokespersonfor-a-generation Billy Bragg has done alright for himself. “My mum’ll be getting the third gold record by Christmas, I should imagine.” An artless but effective singer/stringbanger with an extraordinary songwriting gift, Bragg is living proof that politics has a viable, valuable place in pop music, and vice versa.

“Just because I dress like this doesn’t mean I’m a communist.” With few exceptions—only Phil Ochs, Bob Dylan and Bob Marley readily come to mind— protest singers have generally proven incapable of simultaneous commitment to both social conscience and social lives. To his credit, the cheerful 28-year-old is as articulate and serious praising organized labor as he is chronicling failed romance. “Life is not all politics. If pop music were only political it’d be incredibly dull and humorless. Likewise, life isn’t all shagging girls, driving cars fast and getting pissed. It’s a mixture of all those things, and my job”—as he refers to music—“is to reflect them.”

“A nation with their freezers full are dancing in their seats while outside another nation is sleeping in the streets.” Bragg’s personal introduction to America came in 1984, when he turned up at the New Music Seminar, guitar in hand, amp

strapped to his back. For busking loudly in the convention’s hallways, he “got ejected from the [New York] ’ilton. Then we did it in the streets and a copper came up and said ‘move along.’” Recalling Elvis Costello’s 1977 arrest for playing outside a CBS Records’ confab in London, Bragg demanded to be busted, but to no avail. “I remember saying through me speakers, ‘For chrissakes what does someone have to do to get arrested in New York City?”’

“When the world falls apart, some things stay in place.” What of Elvis Costello—does this year’s angry young man scorn the 10-year veteran of the emotional wars? “As far as I’m concerned, he’s the best writer in the English language. We singer-songwriters in Great Britain owe him a lot.” Indeed, Bragg shares Costello’s zeal for country and soul music. “American audiences find it strange to see English artists singing what they think is redneck music.” But, he says, naming the cultural crossover connection between urban blacks and rural whites that may be invisible to this nation’s class-unconscious masses, “It’s all working-class music.” Onstage at

Manhattan’s Ritz in November, he introduces a brilliant cover of the Jackson 5’s “I’ll Be There” and his own bonechilling “Levi Stubbs’ Tears” with a windy but amusing lecture on the miraculous healing power of Motown records. After inserting “I Fall To Pieces” into “Honey I’m A Big Boy Now” he chides the audience for its ignorance of Patsy Cline. Later, he expands on the topic. “Patsy was fucked over by the industry and fucked over by her manager. She was undoubtedly the greatest female country singer that ever lived.” Mention of Wanda Jackson yields more excitement. “She’s brilliant! What a voice!” And one more: “If Phil Ochs had seen the Clash when he was 19 years old, he’d have made records like I make now.” Except in Nick Tosches’s books, you don’t hear that kind of talk much anymore.

“I don’t want to change the world/l’m not looking for a new England.” Bragg brings that same conviction and enthusiasm to socialism (not Marxism, in case your folks want to pick a fight about it). He’s very much involved in the Red Wedge, an activist cooperative of wellknown musicians which supports Britain’s Labour Party against Mrs. Thatcher. Besides countless benefit concerts and political rallies, he’s performed in Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union. “I was in Kiev for three days. We did one song on a TV show, a gig for the morning shift of an electronics factory and another at Kiev University.” His three albums contain songs of worker solidarity (“There Is Power In A Union,” “Which Side Are You On”), attacks on the press (“It Says Here”) and the government (“Ideology,” which pointedly paraphrases “Chimes Of Freedom Flashing” in both melody and lyric) and comments on foreign affairs (“Help Save The Youth Of America”), among other socio-political concerns.

TURN TO PAGE 56

CONTINUED FROM PAGE 27

Bragg describes his job as “a responsibility to talk about certain subjects,” adding that he’s “willing to talk about ’em until I’m blue in the face.” But—and this is a welcome break in the longwinded tradition of wordy folksingers and angry young men in general—he says, crediting Berry Gordy, “I’m a great believer in the maxim that if you can’t say it in three minutes it ain’t worth saying.” Oh, go ahead. We’ll keep on listening. ®