This vid looks to have been up on their site for months now, but I only just noticed it after I found myself thinking a lot of Morgan Tsvangirai and the terrible challenges he and the MDC are facing over the next days, and humming through this namechecking song about bravery and devotion, so I went to check it out again.
By way of background - Back in the mists of the last decade, the greatest pop combo to play some of Oxford’s grottiest venues were the Holy Roman Empire. A formidable pop songwriting talent hitched to universally derided musical skills, but with a punky enough attitude not to care and the charisma to get them forgiven for a lot, HRE were lefty, internationalist, life-affirming, funny, and too clever by half. Many years on and Ste Fleming from HRE seems as though he may be on the verge of coming back (as Le Emu Tavern), with a new sound like the missing link between Morrissey and Phil Oakey that you never knew you needed. That would be a good thing. I’m only hoping this tribute vid to Morgan Tsvangirai doesn’t end up relevant in the same sad way as that of HRE’s old single Benazir Bhutto.
Yes - this year’s Tolpuddle Festival has SOLD OUT of tickets for the camp site, which must put it on course for a record attendance.
I won’t be going. Mainly because of family committments, but officially I’m not going because I’m boycotting this year’s headliners, Chumbawamba, who I well & truly despise.
Mrs is a big fan, and because our musical tastes are fundamentally unreconcilable (and she would always win the argument) the relentless drone of Chumba’s self-righteous left-negativism used to befoul the flat’s atmosphere on a far too regular basis. Luckily now, Jnr’s musical tastes trump even hers, and we listen to nothing but “The Cat in The Hat” on autorepeat, which I think is a mercy of types.
Anyway, don’t let that stop you going - the wondrous Billy Bragg will be there, like the ravens in the Tower, and there’s Mark Thomas, The Men They Couldn’t Hang, and so much other stuff (and more than enough beer) to help you ignore the gaggle of oafish Prescott-dousers chanting “Can’t hear you, cos your mouth’s full of sh*t”, whilst failing to notice the turds in their own maw.
The occasional scrapbook of a UK labor-geek.
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All of this obviously being my own thoughts and nothing you can pin on my employers present or past, my union, my local party, my mates, or anyone else you might confuse me with - most of whom don't agree with me about very much anyway.