Red Wedge

John Le Carré's 1974 novel "Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy" is a genuinely gripping spy story about the infiltration of agents from the (then) Soviet secret service, the KGB, into MI6, Britain's foreign intelligence service. The plot is similar to that of "The Fourth Protocol", by the other guardian deity of the political thriller in Albion's land, Frederick Forsyth, who in that book digs deep into the dynamics of international politics at the time of the Cold War, anno domini 1984. Specifically, it tells of a feared putsch by organized factions (of communist leanings) within the Labour Party, once it had won the election. In other words, the exposed nerve of Britain's establishment, which - as film director Ken Loach also recounts well in "Hidden Agenda" - really did stage a silent coup during the Winter of Discontent of 1978/1979, when, through a vote of no confidence against Labour Prime Minister James Callaghan and by steering the press and public opinion, they "brought home" Margaret Thatcher's first government. That, precisely, was the real target to be defeated by the musical campaign organized by Red Wedge in 1985.

"Beat the Whites with the Red Wedge" is the title of a painting by El Lissitzky, an architect, choreographer and painter who, as a fervent supporter of the Soviet revolution, devised that canvas to depict the Red Army defeating the counter-revolution of the Tsarist generals, the so-called Whites.

The electoral victory won by Margaret Thatcher in 1979 produced something that had always seemed impossible: it truly pushed pop musicians to back a political party. From Ewan MacColl to John Lennon, from the punks to RAR (Rock Against Racism), musicians had always worked outside the party system. At the start of the Thatcher era, political pop seemed to be in decline, while RAR and punk itself were also starting to fade out.

The Two Tone bands (ska and rock-steady) had kept up a bit of pressure. The Beat had heralded the conservative Eighties with the hopeless chant of "Stand Down Margaret", while the Specials had topped the charts during the furious summer of 1981 with "Ghost Town", one of those rare, evocative songs able to sum up a historical moment, the way only Phil Ochs knew how to do. As unemployment rose and Britain's cities were torn apart by riots, the country's best-selling record was that lament for the closing of factories and discos.

Paul Weller was, in those years, a young and influential figure. Having emerged in the punk era with his lively, aggressive trio, the Jam, by the time of their split in December 1982 he had racked up four number-one hits in the British charts. From the original, unfocused fury of "Bricks And Mortar" to more pointed songs such as "Eton Rifles" and "Little Boy Soldiers", he had used his terse post-punk ballads as a vehicle to speak not just for the young, but for the English working class. After the Jam split, he founded the Style Council together with Mick Talbot and moved toward a more sophisticated style, blending soul with Latin-tinged music; he toned down his "youthful" fury and sharpened his anger instead, shifting rapidly to the left and immediately throwing his support behind the campaigns of the CND (Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament).

The return of the "new" CND was marked by two pop events, an album and a concert. An LP, "Life In The European Theatre", came out featuring thirteen tracks by major British artists, including the Clash, the Specials, the Beat, Peter Gabriel, Madness and the Stranglers, among others. And a concert, held in London at the Peace Festival at Brockwell Park in Brixton on 7 May 1982. The event was co-organized together with the "Greenham Common women for peace", who used to picket military bases in protest against the British government's belligerent policies. At that concert, the Style Council played only two songs, and one of them was truly explosive. "Money Go Round" was a pitch-black funk number, a scathing attack on the financial and military status quo, asking why there had never been a referendum on foreign military bases on English soil.

But, again in 1982, the country was swept up in euphoria over the success of the military campaign to reclaim the Falkland Islands. Then came the biting "Shipbuilding" by Elvis Costello, written for Robert Wyatt: ⟦Q1⟧. It was one of the few songs to question the economics and morality behind the Falklands affair. The following year, in fact, Thatcher won the general election again by a landslide, with a country ever more in pieces, riddled with poverty, despair and double-digit unemployment, especially among the young. And working-class neighbourhoods left abandoned, stripped of any hope.

Until, on a bitterly cold day in February 1985, a small group of musicians stood crammed together on the pavement of Whitehall, near Downing Street, the Prime Minister's office. The group included Paul Weller and Style Council co-founder Mick Talbot. With them was another singer with cropped hair. It was Billy Bragg, who had emerged the year before as a distinctive hybrid of folk protest singer and punk, the British musician who was, among other things, most closely identified with the revival of the Labour Party.

The interesting thing about that small delegation was that they weren't there to protest against South Africa, or in support of the CND or the miners, whose year-long strike was drawing to a close. Weller and Bragg had both been deeply committed to those causes, but that day they were there to back a petition against the abolition of a legislative plan for youth employment protections. This petition reached Downing Street with a remarkable number of signatures from musicians. Alongside Weller and Bragg, there were those of Madness, Alison Moyet and Frankie Goes To Hollywood.

This event was followed by a free concert held opposite Parliament, but on the other bank of the Thames, where a small stage was set up decorated with a drawing of Mrs Thatcher. Delegations came and went across the Thames, while speakers took turns on stage, among them striking miners, Labour MPs and Ken Livingstone, the city's mayor. Steel Pulse, UB-40, and Billy Bragg and Paul Weller as a duo played, the latter two performing "Move on up" by Cutis Mayfield. And to close the event, Billy Bragg again, but alone this time. With his guitar. He opened with "New England", then went on to attack the right-wing press with "It Says Here" and consumer society with "The Busy Girl Buys Beauty". His style combined the tradition of acoustic songwriters like Ewan MacColl, Pete Seeger and Woody Guthrie with the anger and energy of punk he'd absorbed from listening to the Clash.

In 1979 Bragg had founded a pub-rock band, Riff Raff, and had become a devoted punk fan. His political views, meanwhile, stemmed from his personal experience. One experience that struck him deeply was his involvement with the miners' strike. It had lasted 358 days and had cost fourteen lives, around 10,000 arrests, and thousands of injuries among both miners and police. At the heart of the strike was a dispute over pit closures and the future of mining communities. Under these circumstances, the strikers managed to win the support of pop musicians, who had not backed them during the earlier strikes of 1972 and 1974. That year of strikes forged a genuine alliance, built through dozens of pop and rock shows held in community and social centres, concert halls and theatres. Besides those shows, benefit records were also made, recorded by folk artists like Ewan MacColl but also post-punk acts like Test Department or "simply" pop acts like the Flying Pickets. Musicians also began joining picket lines and visiting mining communities.

One of the best-known bands to turn up at the picket lines was aptly named the Flying Pickets. They had originally been a theatre troupe, 7:84 (so named because in 1974, when it was formed, 7 per cent of the population owned 84 per cent of the national wealth). Its members had all previously taken part in One Big Blow, a musical about a miners' brass band. The Flying Pickets performed for miners in South Wales and Yorkshire, where they joined the real picket lines at Snathe power station.

This continued until 9 March 1985, at Logan Hall. It was a fairly nondescript student venue in Bloomsbury. On that date, just four days after miners across almost the entire country had gone back to work following the strike's revocation, a benefit show was held there that reflected the new radical mood of British pop. It was a memorable night, both as a political event, with students and miners egging each other on, and as a musical one, built on a strange mix of styles. A Welsh choir performed, Elvis Costello gave a brilliant performance in which he presented five new songs, and Billy Bragg sang one of his unreleased political songs.

On 11 March 1985, two days after Billy Bragg and Elvis Costello had played together at the memorable miners' benefit show, Neil Kinnock, leader of the Labour Party, opened a "special" discussion among his top ranks. He was eager to discuss a pop tour that would help capitalise on the growing musical hostility towards Mrs Thatcher, turning that hostility into support for the Labour Party.

From this insight came the 1985 "Jobs for Youth Tour", which turned into a curious experiment in dialogue between Labour MPs and pop fans. On the afternoon of 23 July 1985, a mixed bag of artists and politicians met in the Labour Party's meeting room, and Billy Bragg suggested that this musical caravan, about to tour the length and breadth of England, should be called Red Wedge — an idea that was immediately accepted.

And the concerts got underway.

The Bristol show was memorable. Even though most of the artists were white, the music was steeped in soul. That night (late May 1985), the Style Council dissected a selection of Thatcher speeches over drums and saxophone, then joined Jerry Dammers and a troupe of jazz dancers for a sweep through political R&B and funk. The Communards followed, and then came the real surprise of the evening: Gary Kemp of Spandau Ballet, a band whose political activity up to that point had been precisely zero. The show closed with Billy Bragg, Andy Rourke and Johnny Marr of the Smiths, who together with reggae singer Lorna Gee all sang "Move On Up".

The following night the city was Liverpool. And it was an important challenge for Red Wedge, given the political stakes involved. Liverpool's Labour council was not only at war with the Conservatives, but also with its own party's leadership. In its battle against Mrs Thatcher, the council had refused to set a municipal tax rate, arguing that it couldn't fix it at the required level without breaking its election pledges not to raise rates or cause layoffs. A legal battle ensued, in which several councillors were hit with heavy fines.

Members of the Wedge openly sided with the council. The Redskins opened the night with their machine-gun soul-punk, followed by the Housemartins with their power-pop and Big Country with their highly distinctive Gaelic punk-rock.

And in no time at all came the big concert held on Easter Monday at London's South Bank, on 31 March 1986. It was a defining moment, proof of what Red Wedge had managed to set in motion, helped along by a splendid performance from the Red Wedge Choir. Latin Quarter, Tom Robinson, Test Department, Angelic Upstarts and Eddy Grant all played, the latter leaving the stage to a spontaneous chant rising loudly from the crowd: "Maggie out, Maggie out" (referring to Margaret Thatcher). Billy Bragg and Ken Livingstone, London's "rebel" mayor, closed the concert together, singing "Bandiera Rossa" and "We Shall Overcome". As the crowd made their way home, passing curiosities like a specially set-up bar called The Workers Beer Company, groups of Rastas who'd climbed onto the stage sang "Maybe It's Because I'm a Londoner".

In the second half of 1986, another twelve-date tour was put together, running through to the eve of the 1987 general election, for which Red Wedge explicitly backed the Labour Party.

The star-studded line-up included, alongside Red Wedge regulars, Lloyd Cole, the Blow Monkeys and The The. When the tour reached Wolverhampton, the Beat truly gave their best, delivering a storming, soul-drenched rendition of "Stand Down Margaret".

Just nine days before the election came an unexpected gift, when U2 arrived in London following the release of "The Joshua Tree" and their triumphant US tour. Bono launched into a set of anti-Thatcher songs on the Wembley stage that included "Maggie's Farm", "C'mon Everybody" and "Springhill Mining Disaster".

The election was won once again by the Iron Lady, and U2 closed the final show of their UK tour at Wembley with their song about El Salvador, "Bullet The Blue Sky", turned into a venomous attack on Mrs Thatcher, comparing her to Roberto D'Abuisson, the bloodthirsty general behind the massacres of El Salvador's indigenous people. That night, with that defeat, marked the end of Red Wedge.

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