Much of the best music is informed by poverty. Which is something that, however rich, you can never learn
Poor James Blunt. You can imagine him, Friday morning, listening to the Today programme with a mounting sense of trepidation as John Humphries cues up an item about posh pop stars. "Oh no, here we go," thinks the artist formerly known as old Harrovian Captain JH Blount of the Household Cavalry, "I'm in the line of fire again."
Four minutes later, he's in the clear. Some other well-educated sorts such as Mumford & Sons (King's College, Wimbledon), Noah and the Whale (St Paul's school, Barnes) and even Lily Allen (Bedales) have drawn the flak. Good show!
Then Mummy has to go and spoil it all. While the programme is still on air, Mrs Jane Blount of Hampshire joins the electronic equivalent of Radio 4's green-ink brigade, jolly cross that her little soldier "receives harsh criticism" simply because of "his background".
So, is she right? Does the stripe of an old school tie colour our critical judgment? Well, in this case, no. James Blunt's music would still be awful if it was the work of a bog-standard comp-educated Household Cavalry stableboy.
The habits of pop consumers also suggest that Mrs B may have been hasty in rounding on the school bullies. The great unwashed are clearly not stopping to check the CVs of kooky Florence Welch (Alleyn's, Dulwich), naughty Eliza Doolittle (Channing, Highgate) or cheeky chappy Matt Cardle (Stoke College, Suffolk) before hitting the download button.
But let's not confuse popular with great. The most exciting British record of last year, The Defamation of Strickland Banks ? a concept album whose dense narrative concerns wrongful conviction, incarceration, murder and redemption ? was created by an academic failure.
Ben Drew, who raps and sings under the name Plan B, learned only how to "look after myself" at his east London state school. He says he'd "probably be dealing drugs now and hurting people" if he hadn't been "saved" by music.
The best artists are those who have no choice. Running through blues, soul, reggae and jazz are rich seams of struggle and transcendence. Privately educated pop stars may be familiar with these themes as A-level philosophy modules, but they're unlikely to have lived through them.
There are exceptions. We don't hear Nick Drake's cries of existential pain and think: "Stop whingeing, posh boy", just because he went to Marlborough College. His struggle was with mental illness. We listen to Joe Strummer sing about being a garage band guttersnipe knowing he was really the public school-educated son of a British diplomat. Pink Floyd got away with being expensively educated for years until, in 1979, they raided the classrooms of Islington Green comprehensive for a song whose chorus was: "We don't need no education."
That single, Another Brick in the Wall, shared the airwaves with another classroom-themed single ? the Jam's The Eton Rifles. For a teenage David Cameron, it must have been a jolly singalong. Yet Paul Weller's perfectly honed vignette was the product of class struggle.
Four decades on ? with access to instruments increasingly rare in the state system ? The Eton Rifles offers a pertinent question to many aspiring musicians: "What chance have you got against a tie and a crest?".
justin bieber kesha wiz khalifa nicki minaj christina hendricks
No comments:
Post a Comment