The Anti-Nazi League ended their long, hot, glorious summer on a note of muted triumph.
50,000 people took to the streets on Sunday to demonstrate their opposition to the racism of the National Front, but the Front tactic — typically astute — of marching through the East End on the same day not only split the ANL ranks, but it also cast a disconcerting light on the nature of their support.
Repeated appeals for volunteers to defend Brick Lane elicited little response at the concert. People preferred to lie in the sun and enjoy the music. Which is understandable, but it's not a very effective way of smashing fascism.
The ANL has also been under attack from the Tory press, who are probably scared shitless that the racialist policies of their own party will be the League's next target. The argument goes that the ANL is merely a front of the Socialist Workers Party. Hysterical though it is, this suspicion could damage the League's popularity with those apparently numerous rock fans who seem to equate any left-wing group in the UK with the Stalinist policies practised in Eastern Europe.
Personally, I agree with the SWP's point that fascism can't be eradicated without fundamental changes to the society in which it flourishes. But I'm also unconvinced that the society they propose would be a preferable alternative.
Still, the point is that punters who think politics should be kept out of rock have their heads stuck firmly in the sand. Opposing the Nazis is a political act, and it doesn't just end there. As Tom Robinson said in his brief speech at Hyde Park, racism is more than the NF, it's probably three-quarters of the Tory party, half of Labour and most of the British police force as well.
After the speeches, predictably well-intentioned and mealy-mouthed, the march proper got under way about noon, raising great clouds of dust as it left Hyde Park. Punks with green and pink hair mingled with skins, hippies, students and the occasional, lonely representative of the middle-aged middle classes. A lot of black kids too, though fewer Asians — maybe they were in Brick Lane, or maybe it's that their culture tends to get overlooked on occasions like this. Where are you now, Ravi Shankar?
Tourists gaped, angry car-drivers remonstrated with policemen, but the carnival atmosphere ensured that those on the march had a good time. Chants and songs and several floats, with steel bands and new wave groups as diverse as The Members and China Street kept the crowds entertained as the procession headed south across the water in brilliant sunshine.
In Brixton itself, people lined the streets and applauded the marchers, who applauded back. Brixton Gays hung a banner across the street, welcoming the march. Farther on, Lambeth Town Hall was festooned with a huge banner, "Council Workers Against The Nazis," while across the road the Little Bit Ritzy cinema had changed its name to "Ritz Against The Nazis."
There were already several hundred people waiting in Brockwell Park when the head of the procession arrived, and people were still streaming in all through Stiff Little Fingers' opening set. Standing in at the last moment for Sham 69, SLF played competent, unexceptional punk, their lyrics often referring to the situation in their home town of Belfast. I was surprised that the lead singer went out of his way to disassociate the band from the Troops Out movement. Apparently, he thinks the soldiers are there to keep the peace. This seems a bit naive to me, and I'd like to suggest the alternative explanation that they're there to protect the ruling class.
But my political differences with Stiff Little Fingers were nothing compared with what, for me, became the biggest problem and drawback of the afternoon — Rastafarianism. Misty played some lovely music, the slow, sensuous tug of their bass and keyboards was simply bliss, but I can't handle Rasta lyrics. When they quote Isaiah, and sing "Mankind, you're a sinner," I feel sick at heart. To my mind, religion is part of the problem, not the solution, and concepts like God/Jah and sin are pure bull. The last thing anybody needs is a lot of groups laying repressive guilt trips on them — that way is not liberation.
There's also the matter of the Rastas' sexism. Julie Burchill has already written about this, so I'll just add that I think it stinks, too. And this needs to be repeated because, though sexism and racism are equally vile, the former is possibly more prevalent than the latter. You don't find The Stranglers making "jokes" about beating up Jews or blacks, and you don't find the Stones issuing promotional posters of a black man lying chained and beaten.
After Misty, Jimmy Pursey made a short, emotional appearance, attacking the press for the "lies" they'd printed about Sham's withdrawal, and emphasising that he had turned up because he supported wholeheartedly the ANL and RAR. Then John Cooper-Clarke read a poem, and next came Elvis Costello, resplendent in red jacket, with a fine set taken mostly from the This Year's Model album. Highlights were the amazing, expanded version of "Watching The Detectives," with Elvis a master of timing, the new (to England) "Radio, Radio," and a thoughtfully apt encore of "Peace, Love And Understanding." Inevitably, it lacked the intensity of his indoor gigs, but for me it was the most enjoyable part of the day. Still, I'm a fan.
Aswad topped the bill, a useful political gesture, though hard to justify musically. Their hard, slick sound lacked the appealing warmth of Misty, but they worked away and had the crowd swaying, waving and punching the air with unabated enthusiasm, even though the sun had gone down and a chilly wind was blowing across the park. The smell of dope hung in the evening air, the lights were needed on stage for the first time, and many people began to make their way to the exits.
Aswad finished with a furious jam, the stage packed with waving, dancing people, and Red Saunders of Rock Against Racism urging: "the struggle will continue."
These thoughts and doubts, written down immediately after the event, are intended as a contribution to that struggle. There can be no doubt that the history of popular music this century is largely the history of black music — Bessie Smith, Robert Johnson, Billie Holiday, Charlie Parker, Muddy Waters, John Coltrane, James Brown, Smokey Robinson, Chuck Berry, Jimi Hendrix, Aretha Franklin, Bob Marley ... the list is endless. Anyone who has ever danced to their music, anyone who has ever bought one of their records, has no choice but to stand up and fight against the racists of the NF and the sympathisers in whatever party.
There is a poem, quoted in the Carnival programme, by Pastor Niemoller, "victim of the Nazis of Germany": "First they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out — because I was not a Jew. Then they came for the Communists, and I did not speak out — because I was not a Communist. Next they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out — because I was not a trade unionist. Then they came for me — and there was no one left to speak out for me."
Think about that, before you decide that politics is just too nasty, and go off to play your new Devo record.
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