For 40 years, Brighton has been as renowned for its radical politics as its music scene. But where are the political faultlines amongst the city's DIY community? BNDIY spoke to musicians and an academic to compare politics of Brighton’s music scene in the late 70s with the one today.
Earlier this month, Daskinsey 4 played to a record-breaking crowd at this year’s Brighton Pride. For the band, it was one of their biggest gigs to date. For organisers expecting 160,000 visitors, its scale could be viewed as a triumph of the city’s LGBT rights movement. But beyond the carnival of Pride, what is the current relationship between the city’s politics and DIY music scene? How important are politics to DIY musicians now?
ROCKING AGAINST RACISM Dr Helen Reddington is a senior lecturer in music cultures at the University of East London. From 1977 to 1980 she was better known as Helen McCookerybook, bassist in the Joby and the Hooligans, The Smartees and The Chefs. For her, today’s liberal, ‘fun’ Brighton is barely recognisable to the atmosphere of seedy wealth which characterised the town she lived and gigged in. Back then, life as a DIY musician was fraught with political battles at every turn: “There was an enormous amount of tension between people who were right wing and left wing. My second serious relationship was with a Jamaican Jew and my best friend was Persian. We’d have National Front skinheads and punks coming in and sounding off in the pub and you could not tolerate that.”
According to Helen, the left-leaning nature of Brighton’s first DIY scene was a compound of academic influence and young people with few opportunities: “If you were a drifter and haven’t got anything else to do, you would end up in Brighton. Part of the politics came from Sussex University and a few political people who tried to marshal us into doing things came from there. Brighton polytechnic put on Rock Against Racism gigs, but much of it was just a lot of angry people buzzing around in a beehive. You thought: ‘shall we turn this all in on ourselves or shall we make something out of it’.” But not all Brighton’s early punks were overtly political. Some bands like the Piranhas played political events simply because they were gigs. But for her, they were more than that:
“Personally, what could be better than forming a band and finding that you can go out and do a gig to support something you believed in since you were a child? Which is basically equality. For me, it was exactly what I wanted to be doing with my noise.” Ultimately, it was politics that brought Brighton’s first DIY scene to an end. Centred on The Vault, it was an extension of the Resource Centre which facilitated fledgling left wing, LGBT and anti-racism campaigners. In October 1980, a fire devastated the building and is widely believed to have been started by the far-right National Front.
MY GENDERATION
In recent years, violent clashes between left and right in Brighton have been mainly limited to the annual March For England. Last year, 150 demonstrators were outnumbered by 1000 counter protestors. The policing bill was estimated at £150,000 and the group has not returned. Do turns of events like this suggest we are living in more a more harmonious age? For Tamsin Chapman, singer with Slum of Legs, music’s role in political change is more important than ever: “When you form a band the main aim should be to change the world. And if you can’t do that, then it should be to change one person’s life. If that’s not your aim as a band, then I’m not interested.”
One key characteristic of Brighton’s DIY scene is that it gives a platform for musicians from under-represented groups. There are promoters and record labels supporting bands with learning disabilities, women musicians and queercore groups.
Another is the ways it has embraced intersectionality. In the late 70s gigs like Rock Against Racism and Rock Against Sexism were seperate affairs. An intersectional approach focusses on the interactions between two or more forms of discrimination. It is in these terms that the Slum of Legs' latest single, Doll Like is best understood. Written by mutlti-instrumentalist Michelle Steele, it is a candid reflection of her experience of gender transition and misconceptions about her appearance.
“Some people said [the song] makes them cry. I don’t know if that’s a good thing but maybe it’s because people identify with it and some of the people who come to our shows are interested in gender issues. People relate to it and I’m really pleased about that as I was worried people thought I wanted to be like a doll. Its more that I want to fight that idea of what I look like and who I am.”
"I think us being all women and having a transwoman makes us eminently political in terms of who we are and what we stand for. It was just a natural thing for us to show solidarity with Michelle and it was important for us to end that message out," adds guitarist, Kate Franklin.
From Caitlyn Jenner’s Vanity Fair cover, Laverene Cox’s prominent role in Orange Is The New Black and Miley Cyrus revealing she is genderfluid – an identiy that is neither exclusively male or female. 2015 is the year in which trans issues entered the cultural mainstream.
But why hasn’t this been reflected in the likes of the NME or Pitchfork? Tamsin puts this down to a simplistic defintion of poltics and an ignorance of DIY scenes: “Its so lazy, so boring of most bands who are apolitical. The thing is about our lyrics is that they aren’t straightforward: ‘we hate the Tories, we hate this, we hate that.’ I find it difficult to write lyrics which overtly have that kind of Billy Bragg thing to them. Its often much more subtle. Pop musicians are quite political, grime and hip hop musicians are quite political but indie sucks." TECHNOLOGICAL REVOLUTIONS Tamsin believes the internet has been instrumental in changing attitudes towards transgender people. For veteran recording engineer and guitarist Steve Albini, this technology has created a fundamental shift towards DIY in how people make, discover and discuss music. But when it comes to music's own intersection with politics, there are those who think these revolutions have come at a price: “People [in our scene] were always arguing about politics. Looking back it was incredible to meet people with really different political viewpoints to your own. That happens at computer’s length these days. To actually speak to someone face to face and say you totally disagree with them and then go off to do Rock Against Racism gig knowing you’re doing something to raise consciousness was really important. There is also more of an idea of monetising now than there used to be which is a post-Thatcher and Blair thing,” says Helen. There are also those in Brighton's DIY scene who believe its politics is not its defining feature. Max Levy is one of them and makes music under the name of King of Cats and Lower Slaughter:
“I think we all have very similar opinions. But I don’t think that should be hammed up as a reason we work together. There are lots of tight of friendships groups with similar political views, we just happen to enjoy making music.”
Although the causes today's Brighton’s DIY bands currently support might appear comparable to those in the late 70s, it’s clear that the language is different. But what change will this make at the ballot box and the statute books? Helen believes Rock Against Racism directly resulted in tougher laws against hate speech and discrimination. Whilst Slum of Legs welcome changes in society's understanding of gender issues, their optimism is cautious:
"We shouldn’t be complacent. With every positive step there is someone being murdered or abused either unsocially or physically," says Kate. May’s election saw Caroline Lucas re-elected with an increased majority whilst neighbouring Hove became one of the few places where Labour beat the Conservatives. Despite common claims to the contrary, turnout amongst voters aged 18-24 is in fact rising. Young people have also played marked role in Jeremy Corbyn’s Labour leadership campaign and Scotland's independance referendum. If the politics of DIY music are increasing in influence, the next five years could prove as interesting to see as well as hear. TURNING TABLES: Read our exclusive Q&A with Slum of Legs