Songs of protest, songs of sorrow

The other day on Facebook, a member of America's Progressive Voice posted a link to the Saw Doctor's song N17, one of many great Irish songs about being homesick. It got me thinking though, of another great tradition in not just Irish music, but a lot of musical traditions generally - the hard done by worker's song. In this age of the Occupy protests, and the sentiment of being abandoned by a wealthy oligarchy, I thought I'd write about a couple of songs from that tradition.

There's a well known Irish song called Belfast Mill;

At the east end of town, at the foot of the hill
There's a chimney so high, it says "Belfast Mill."
But there's no smoke at all, coming out of the stack
For the mill has shut down, it's never coming back

Chorus:
And the only tune I hear is the sound of the wind
as it blows through the town, weave and spin, weave and spin.

There's no children playing in the dark narrow streets
Since the mill has shut down, its so quiet I can't sleep

Chorus:

Since the mill has shut down, there's no work to do
tell me where will I go, tell me what will I do.

Chorus: I'm too old to work, I'm too young to die,
Tell me what will we do, my family and I

Chorus:

At the east end of town, at the foot of the hill
There's a chimney so high, it says "Belfast Mill."
But there's no smoke at all, coming out of the stack
For the mill has shut down, it's never coming back

A sad, mournful song about being out of work and abandoned. The thing is, it's not an Irish song at all, it's actually American, and was originally called (I think) Aragon Mill. The thing is though, it resonated so strongly with the Irish tradition of similar songs, that it got lightly rewritten and appropriated. There is in fact an anecdotal story about the songwriter being in Ireland and getting into a fight with an Irishman, who took umbrage at the songwriter's claim that it was an American song.

So, to skip over to America, we come to a lovely collaboration between punk legend Jello Biafra and the ever crazy Mojo Nixon. Their collaboration was called Prairie Home Invasion, and on it there are some really good songs about working hard, and getting nowhere, or in the case of the song 'Hamlet Chicken Plant Disaster' actually getting killed;

Down in Hamlet, North Carolina
They had a chicken plant sure did explode
Them tar heels trapped like burnin' rats
Cuz the boss man chained the door closed

My mama was born in
A town called Hamlet
Sleepy little place on the Seaboard line
My papa worked on the railroad
And my granny went out her mind

One day the railroad
It went busted
Like Richmond County ain't broke enough
So this Yankee carpetbagger
Figured to make a little money on Hamlet's bad luck

Built a brand new chicken fixin' plant
And they paid that minimum wage
But the boss man said no unions
Or he'd move his plant far away

Merle Etta Johnson
She was late for work
Heard a thunderin' roar out on the highway
Musta been NASCAR over at Rockingham
Or just Merle Etta's judgment day

8:15 in the mornin'
Chicken plant burst into flames
People trampled, squashed and burned up
Just to keep the profit margin
One iota higher

Everybody gotta work in this world
Some folks lucky-some folks ain't
But that bastard that chained the doors shut
I'm gonna rip him through the p!

When I was a little boy
With a buzzsaw hair cut
Go down to Hamlet, watch the trains
Now the tourists stop on the highway
Get a little look at the chicken plant workers' remains

There's a justified anger in the song, desperate people needing work just to survive, but getting screwed anyway, by the greedy boss. This one was classically Mojo Nixon, down home country, with just enough of his infectious craziness. Jello's offering in a similar theme was a bit more in his classic style, a panoramic view of impoverished and out of work America called Burgers of Wrath;

Crossin' the land
On vacation
Saw lots of families
So much like ours
All they got left
Piled in their cars
Can't get those desperate faces
off our minds

Mm-hm hm-hm hmmmm

But now we're stuck
On that same road
Company shipped our jobs
To Mexico
Soup is good food
You made a good meal
But don't blame us
Blame the Japanese

Hee-hee hee-hee hee-hee

Seasons of rust
Age of decline
Make cars that fall apart
People get wise
More sour grapes that never
Turn into wine
Just burgers of wrath

Reached the Northwest
There's nothin' left
Forest strip-mined away
The fish are dead
Executives
Twist things around
Got people they wiped out
All blaming owls

Hoo-hoo hoo-hoo hoo-hoo

The ranger says she hates to
As she kicks us out
Our 30 days are up
At this campground
Tourist yell, "Get a job!"
There's none around
Just burgers of wrath

Par for the course
We're on the streets
Whole family beggin' change
In Fog City
New job don't mean
Roof o'er our heads
Can't save enough
For first and last month's rent

Heh-heh heh-heh heh-heh

Try not to snap
Don't hit the kids
It's bad enough
Growin' up like this
A storage space
Guard shines a light
We huddle in our locker
Quiet as mice

Just like mice

We've even got
Tuberculosis on the rise
Thousand more banks fail
Yet the crisis is denied
President says, "Sacrifice..."
There's no new deal this time

Just burgers of wrath
More burgers of wrath

The picture it paints is devastating, a family in the richest, most prosperous country on earth, living in such destitution and desperation it boggles the mind. If any song on the album is still relevant today it is this one. It was released in 1994. 

So to skip over to the UK. If you've been alive any time in the past 30 years and consider yourself a bit of a leftie, you'd have to be the most oblivious person in the world not to have heard of Billy Bragg. Blending rock, pop, folk and punk, Billy Bragg's career has been characterised as being highly political. Still if there is one song he's done that could be considered an anthem for workers it is There Is Power In A Union;

There is power in a factory, power in the land
Power in the hand of the worker
But it all amounts to nothing if together we don't stand
There is power in a Union

Now the lessons of the past were all learned with workers blood
The mistakes of the bosses we must pay for
From the cities and the farmlands to trenches full of mud
War has always been the bosses way, sir

The Union forever, defending our rights
Down with the blackleg, all workers unite
With our brothers and our sisters from many far-off lands
There is power in a Union

Now I long for the morning that they realise
Brutality and unjust laws cannot defeat us
But who'll defend the workers who cannot organise
When the bosses send their lackeys out to cheat us?

Money speaks for money, the Devil for his own
Who comes to speak for the skin and the bone?
What a comfort for the widow, a light to the child
There is power in a Union

The Union forever, defending our rights
Down with the blackleg, all workers unite
With our brothers and our sisters together we will stand
There is power in a Union

 These sort of songs, the tradition of the hard done by worker are always characterised as lefty 'complaint' music, but their appeal is universal. There are more people who work hard and still get jerked around than people who work hard and become captains of industry. These songs tell people that they're not alone, that others suffer the same as they do. These songs tell people that there is a universal bond between us. It doesn't matter your age, or gender, or ethnicity - we all get screwed over and we all recognise that.

There Is Power In A Union could be as relevant in Karachi as it would be in Birmingham (UK or US Birmingham). Hamlet Chicken Plant Disaster speaks a simple message that anyone who lived in or near Five Mile Island, Chernobyl, Fukushima, Bhopal or the Gulf of Mexico could sympathise with - a simple tale of industrial greed/negligence that hurts, harms or kills the people who work hard to make them money. Belfast Mill's tone would be familiar to anyone who's been the victim of a mass layoff or 'downsizing'.

We need music that tells these stories, if only so we don't feel alone. A protest song is not just about complaint, it is about what people have suffered, and what their hopes and dreams are, or may have been if they weren't shattered. Some may say it's unfair to victimise business or the bosses this way - to paint them as an enemy. I would only say in return that the boss agonising over a decision is cold comfort when he's still got a job and you don't, or especially if he gets a bonus for firing hundreds, maybe thousands just like you.

So sing, at least it lets you feel that you're not alone, and there are others that understand where you are, and what you're going through.