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singers at Crocus Cafe |
Take a song like Hanging On The Old Barbed Wire. There are any number of versions of it. I sing one passed down from my granddad, who fought in WW1; Chumbawamba's version is slightly different, and the ones I've heard other singers do are different again. That's the beauty of this kind of song – you can make it personal. Was it the quartermaster, the major or the sergeant who was to be found drinking all the company's rum? - well, that depended on who was the biggest, greediest drunkard in your company. When a song is made to be customised, like this, it's not surprising it gets remembered and handed down: there is something about the adaptability, and the personalness of the satire, that makes us feel we're hearing something real.
But what about songs like Pack Up Your Troubles or It's A Long Way to Tipperary: songs that didn't spring from the soldiers themselves, but were written by professional songwriters, and which superficially look quite anodyne and manufactured? How and why do we all know those,100 years on? Well, many of us learnt at least some of them in primary school; and I think primary teachers right through to the 1980s, when they decided to teach us those songs, were influenced by the hugely popular 1969 film Oh! What A Lovely War, adapted from a groundbreaking 1963 play by theatre director Joan Littlewood. Both the film and the play used these old songs to great effect, just at the point (50 years after the War) that they were starting to fade from living memory. Along with the poems of soldier-poets like Wilfred Owen and Siegfried Sassoon, it shaped a generation's view of the War. That's part of how the songs have stayed in the public consciousness.
But why are they so effective and memorable? It's the powerful effect of bringing the past into the present. Songs about old wars resonate across history because the passage of time transforms them. The bland cheeriness of Pack Up Your Troubles might have been mildly ironic to a soldier at the time; but looking at it with what we now know about WW1, it gains a layer of depth that it never had in 1915. And Keep The Home Fires Burning,with its apparently outmoded message of “Don't question the War!” is nevertheless poignant and touching today, because although we no longer love the idea of “keeping a stiff upper lip”, we know that women are still, today, bravely waving their husbands and sons off to wars “although your heart is breaking”. Cerys Matthews' version (which she did as a nod to the Welshness of the songwriter, Ivor Novello), still carries all the tear-jerking power it had in 1915, albeit for slightly different reasons. These songs gain a lot from the knowing, sideways glance born of 100 years of retrospect.
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looking at the touring exhibition at Crocus |
Music and songs are a repository of history; and especially, of the attitudes that don't get into the official history books, and the lived experience of those who were there. But even so, there are still certain perspectives that don't even seem to have got into the songs. As far as we have been able to tell, the British Empire's soldiers were pretty much all singing the same songs. So if any of them had a different perspective on the War, due to being Jamaican or Trinidadian or Indian or Irish, that didn't get sung about. Is there a hidden history of songs that reflect this difference of perspective, that we have yet to uncover?. Or was it a deliberate thing, aiming to unite all those disparate identities under the banner of the British Empire?