Monday, February 27, 2023

When In Doubt, Stop Digging: The Case Against Lori Lightfoot (UPDATED: 4/4/23)


<"Stop Digging, Stop Digging":
Take I/The Reckoner>

<i.>
Mayor Lori Lightfoot's flagging re-election effort in Chicago reminds me of a color quote by the '70s-era British politician Denis Healey: "Healey's first law of politics: when you're in a hole, stop digging." Ironic advice indeed, as Healey would lose two bids for the Labour Party's leadership, in 1976 and 1980. He settled for deputy leader, only to face a stiff challenge in 1981, in which he retained his new post by a margin of less than one percent.

Barely two years later, Margaret Thatcher's landslide re-election would render Healey -- and many of his colleagues -- totally irrelevant. He duly resigned, and fell into the traditional roles allotted to British political also-rans (House of Lords, Shadow Cabinet memberships). He was the House of Lords' oldest sitting member when he died, at 98, in 2015.

\What's worth noting here is that Healey never rose above the two major Cabinet posts that he held (Chancellor of the Exchequer, Secretary of Defense); this, despite widely held views of him as the logical successor to James Callaghan, whom Thatcher had beaten to become Prime Minister in 1979. The Labour Party itself would remain locked out of power until 1997, when Tony Blair finally broke the drought.

So what stopped Healey from becoming Prime Minister, or at least, Labour's next opposition leader? Most historians cite his apparent inability or unwillingness to tone down his combative speaking style, and reach out beyond those already agreed with it, as the decisive factors. 

A man who zigzags between vowing to "
squeeze property speculators until the pips squeak" -- as he did, in 1974, in pressing for a wealth tax -- to negotiating a bailout from the International Monetary Fund that triggered deep, divisive budget cuts, as they did in 1976, is unlikely to inspire great public confidence.

It's not hard to imagine Healey's critics shuddering whenever he put himself forward for the big jobs; to paraphrase Elvis Costello, they had seen the movie, and it did not move them. Yet Healey's essential advice ("stop digging") still stands, even if he didn't follow it himself, and Lightfoot would do well study it, even though she doesn't seem capable of major introspection, as we'll see.


<"Hey, guys, I told you to stop 
dragging out those shovels..."

Denis Healey stares down
his political future with a smile: April 1974>

<
Rob Mieremet, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons>

<ii.>
Where Healey and his party dug themselves a hole, by comparison, Lightfoot finds herself staring out of a trench. For Chicago's newly-minted mayor, the major priority is avoiding an outright defeat in Tuesday's elections. If Lightfoot somehow avoids a first round knockout, she and the other top vote getter proceed to a runoff in April. 

With nine candidates crowding the ballot, a runoff seems more likely than not, though polls suggest a fair amount of volatility. A recent WLS-TV poll  has former Chicago school superintendent Paul Vallas on top (22.1%), followed by Lightfoot (17.1%), and Cook County Commissioner Brandon Johnson (16.1%). Congressman Chuy Garcia, the onetime front-runner, now languishes in fourth (13.8%), followed by wealthy businessman Willie Wilson (11.8%). All others poll in single digits.

As WLS notes, two other figures carry greater concerns for the mayor's second term prospects. One has Vallas crushing Lightfoot in a runoff by 19 points (49.3-30.1%). The other are the 54% of those who responded claim they won't vote for her, no matter what. It's a remarkable reversal of fortune for someone who surfed a tidal wave of goodwill to become the Windy City's first openly gay, second female, and third African-American mayor in 2019.

Lightfoot's victory teased the promise of a major break from the top-down, foul-mouthed leadership of her predecessor, Rahm Emanuel -- who'd abandoned plans to seek a third term, rather than risk a humiliating defeat from the voters he'd s
pent eight years antagonizing. But that's exactly not how things have worked out.


<"Just Sit Here In Awe..."
The Reckoner>

<iii.>
So why, exactly, is Lightfoot fighting for her political life, a mere four years after she arrived? One reason? Combativeness. At various times, she's clashed -- heatedly, and repeatedly -- with the City Council, the media, the teachers' union, and progressives who once saw her as their best hope for breaking with the Windy City's notoriously top-down, get-along, go-along, ring-kissing political culture.

Her bleep-bleeped belittlements range from succinct blasts ("You're 100% full of shit"), to unhinged serial rants ("My dick is bigger than yours and the Italians, I have the biggest dick in Chicago"). At best, they sound like the outbursts of a former federal prosecutor who was never ready for prime time; at worst, they suggest someone who seems a few sandwiches shy of a picnic, as Healey might say, perhaps. 

In These Times (see link below) paints a compelling portrait of an insecure, domineering authoritarian who brooks no dissent, and never hesitates to hurl the considerable weight of her office against all who question her. As someone who's often experienced these tactics myself, this former supporter's quote speaks volumes: 

“I thought she’d govern like she campaigned, and we didn’t get that. We got a very dictatorial style of governing, just like we did with Rahm, and it’s disappointing."


<"Stop Digging, Stop Digging":
Take II/The Reckoner>

<iv.>
Abrasive or not, though, Lori Lightfoot's brittle, rough-edged governance isn't the only reason that she's fighting to keep her job. Critics also cite her willingness to continue pouring Tax Increment Funds (TIF) -- a program that's meant to serve blighted areas -- toward subsidizing the pet development priorities of Chicago's wealthy elite.

As proof, look no further than the $6 billion Lincoln Yards project, an initiative that Lightfoot once blasted Emanuel for wanting to fast-track. Now, of course, she's all for it. It's the kind of U-turn that prompts those who didn't trust her in 2019 to remind voters why all over again, as Saqib Bhatti, co-executive director at the Action Center on Race & the Economy, tells In These Times: 

“Lightfoot’s been an unmitigated disaster — I think under her we’ve seen a continuation of the failed policies of Emanuel and [former Mayor Richard M.] Daley, but with even less charm somehow. She’s continued putting major corporations and the wealthy above the needs of poor Black and brown folks in Chicago.”

None of those developments should surprise anybody. I saw the chickens roosting during my brief tenure in the late 1990s, when the abuses of TIF funds were just beginning to gather steam under Mayor Daley.

Entire neighborhoods were left to rot, because they were filled with average (read: mostly minority) people who didn't have "the juice" to squeeze City Hall for their fair share of its spoils. No one was in their corner, so that was that.

The social inequities that seemed like a mere gap when I arrived, then began to yawning into a chasm. The Ed Burkes and Vrdolyaks kept making out, like the bandits they always were, as they remained the sun around which the city's clannish political culture orbited. They paid less of their "fair share" than ever, while the rest of us paid more and more, and more and more -- fees, penalties, permits, and so on. You name it, they raked it in.

Hence, that's why I'm saying little, for now, about the other major issue in the race, which has done so much to sour Chicagoans on Lightfoot: crime, and what to do about it. It's an issue that's ripe for demagoguery, and this race is no exception. But based on what I saw, putting the proverbial cop on every corner won't ever be enough, which is the major theme of Vallas's campaign.

However, as Johnson has repeatedly pointed out, the criminal justice system keeps on growing by leaps and bounds -- in terms of its budget, and payroll -- not to mention how many unfortunates wind up shuffled off to new residencies at the nearest gray bar hotel. Yet, if the polls tell us anything, Chicagoans have never felt less positive about their city, and its future.



<"Hey, guys? Guys? I don't see any light in here, 
and it looks like an awfully steep climb to the top. 
Can somebody give me a hand?">

<Coda>
Yet with so many people continuing to struggle for basic needs that City Hall continues to ignore, I remain deeply skeptical that locking them all up -- or slapping heftier fines, or jacking up the taxes they already can't afford -- will make any real difference.

Admittedly, Lightfoot has faced major hurdles, ranging from financial, to the fallout of COVID-19, homelesness, and fierce anti-cop apathy, fueled by incidents like George Floyd's murder...to name a few. Yet, like her unfortunate '70s counterpart, Lightfoot has responded by simply doubling down, staring straight ahead, and continuing to dig.

Chicagoans may well decide that this type of behavior is reason enough to send Lightfoot off to Chicago's One-Term Hall of Fame (Michael Bilandic, 1979; Jane Byrne, 1983; Eugene Sawyer, 1989), because they see her as the kind of leader that they don't want.

Whether they get the kind of leadership they so desperately need, however, remains very much an open question, with no easy answer in sight. Whoever wins the job would do well to heed a saying attributed to another cast-off British Prime Minister, Edward Heath: "A week is a long time in politics." --The Reckoner


<UPDATE #1(10:58 p.m., 2/28>
Well, Lightfoot now has a new entry on her resume: first incumbent mayor in 40 years to lose a re-election bid. Jane Byrne was the last incumbent mayor to fall shy of a second term, in 1983.

Unofficial returns posted by 9 p.m. showed Paul Vallas, as expected, finishing with roughly 36% of the vote, well ahead of the second place finisher, Brandon Johnson, who garnered 20%, followed by Lightfoot (16%), Garcia (14%), and Wilson (9%). The remaining candidates netted five percent, combined, between them.

As I already stated, whatever happens in the April 4 runoff won't paper over the chasm-sized cracks in the system. I'm guessing that Johnson's primary bloc of voters, young progressives, are tired of a top-down culture that's only served up diminishing returns, for the average person.

Will there be enough of them to overcome the (mostly) white ethnic voters, who presumably read Vallas's less than subtle appeals of "taking back our city" (emphasis: mine) as sufficient affirmation of their us-against-them aggrievement, and reasonable enough confirmation of the easy answers that his campaign trots out?

Time will tell, but again, I can't get the essential point out of my head. Chicago is a hard place to govern, at the best times. Now imagine the challenge, after three decades of predatory politicking, much of it driven mainly by the swells who continue to make ever-spiraling piles of money, even as the deluge eddies and swirls around them. Nothing about tonight changes my feelings. As Mr. Costello said -- "I've seen the movie, and it does not move me." --The Reckoner


<UPDATE #2: 10:55 p.m., Tuesday, April 4>
Well, the fairy dust has finally settled on the hullabaloo that surrounded the notion of a Johnson victory (or, as police union head John Catanza so infamously stated, there would be "blood in the streets" if his preferred choice, Vallas, lost the race -- why does anybody still cling to the idea of these reactionary SOBs ever being our allies, exactly?). 

About two hours minutes ago, the Associated Press called the race for Johnson. With 99% of the vote counted, the AP tally showed 285,773 votes for Johnson (51.4%), to 269.951 for Vallas (48.6%). Though it's hardly a landslide, I think the results are decisive enough. 

Apparently, Chicagoans didn't fall for Vallas's pitch that putting the proverbial cop on every corner would make them feel safer, and all their problems -- including the city's gaping social inequities -- magically disappear.

Johnson's victory feels doubly appropriate, for two reasons.  First, it falls on the anniversary of Martin Luther KIng's assassination, and second, it coincides with the 40th anniversary of the late Harold Washington's election as the Windy City's first Black mayor, after weathering one of the most viciously racist campaigns in my own memory (courtesy of the late Bernard Epton).

The most critical takeaway, as far as I'm concerned, is a concept that the mainstream media and its status quo allies stubbornly refuse to accept,namely, that people -- particularly those who fall south of 40, as in, non-Baby Boomer elite -- are tired of business as usual politics, and a system that never stops gaming them. 

The other big takeaway is that when you swing for the fences, you might just surprise yourself. That's also true of tonight's other big result, the Wisconsin Supreme Court race, where liberal leaning Janet Protasiewciz crushed a challenge by Daniel Kelly who vaulted to national notoriety by meeting with the Badger State's election deniers in 2020, as they plotted to overturn Biden's presidential win. That's only one of many shortcomings you'll find in searching his name via Google, if you care to do it. (But you might need a cold shower when you finish.)

For too long, orthodox liberals have meekly embraced the politics of mere transactionalism -- always leave those who support you holding out, and hungry forever; never shoot for the moon, when you can do the bare minimum -- and the mere avoidance of total catastrophe as the only worthwhile policy goal worth embracing.

But politicians like Johnson have other ideas, as he told Yahoo News (see newly added link below): "Democrats have been in charge of Chicago for a century. Only they are not the right Democrats, according to Johnson, who says past mayors have been beholden either to the city’s notorious Daley family political machine.

"Or they always looked to the national establishment, like Rahm Emanuel, Barack Obama’s former chief of staff. Maybe they were combative loners like Lightfoot, finding few friends on either right or left.

"Republicans and Democrats have collaborated to move austerity budgets," Johnson told Yahoo News.

Obviously, questions remain whether Johnson, as another newcomer, can move the needle in one of the nation's most notorious pay-to-play political cultures, but I'm cautiously optimistic. His County Commission background makes him a better fit for the office than Lightfoot's unblinking authoritarian style ever did, or Valla's sly winks to the wealthy and far right forces that tried to buy the seat on his behalf.

Unlike his predecessor, Johnson will enter City Hall with a strong knowledge of where the bodies are buried, so to speak, which determines how things get done. Whether he can raise enough money for his agenda through six new taxes, as he proposes, remains to be seen. 

Clearly, though, the chance to strike up a different sort of politics spoke loudly and clearly in both of these races. Time will tell if the winners are up to the challenge, but tonight, at least, I'm saying, bravo, Chicago, and bravissimo, Wisconsin. Onward and upward! I've seen that movie, and it truly does move me. --The Reckoner

LInks To Go (Hurry, Hurry, Before
They Price You Out Of Paradise):

Chicago Sun-Times:
After Tight Race For Mayor,
Black Political Establishment May Face A Reckoning:
https://chicago.suntimes.com/elections/2023/4/4/23670457/mayoral-race-brandon-johnson-black-political-leaders-city-council-politics-natalie-moore-column

Governing.com
Lori Lightfoot Looks
Like A One-Term Mayor:
https://www.governing.com/now/chicagos-lori-lightfoot-looks-like-a-one-term-mayor

In These Times
Why Chicago Mayor Lori Lightfoot
Is Facing An Uphill Battle For Re-Election:
https://inthesetimes.com/article/chicago-mayor-lori-lightfoot-chuy-garcia-brandon-johnson-paul-vallas-election

WBEZ
Chicago Voters Feel Unsafe,
Unhappy With Police Relations:

https://www.wbez.org/stories/poll-crime-tops-chicago-voters-issues-this-mayoral-election/d883f428-d268-4c39-9a9d-6aa13566c447

Yahoo News: Brandon Johnson
Could Be A National Progressive Star:

https://www.yahoo.com/news/brandon-johnson-chicago-mayor-paul-vallas-213142198.html

Sunday, January 1, 2023

The Punk Rock Alphabet (Take V): Sooo... Happy New Year, Already...


<Sooo...

Happy New Year, Already...>

 

A THREE-WAY GAME OF GERIATRIC CHICKEN?

BIDEN VS. BERNIE
VS. TRUMP IN 2024?

C'MON, MAN...
C'MON, PEOPLE... 
C'MON, EVERYBODY...

<WE...
DESERVE...
BETTER!>


    <Do They 
    Owe Us A            Living?>

   'Course they do,
'Course they do...
    'Course they f#cking do... 

F#ck the politically minded,
Here's something 
I wanna say:

<About the state 
of the nation,
the way 
they treat us today...>

SEE YOU IN 2023!

The Reckoner
& The Squawker

Saturday, December 31, 2022

Guest Essay (Chairman Ralph): RIP: The Specials' Terry Hall, Appreciated (1959-2022)

 

<"Bernie Rhodes knows, don't AH-gue!"
Neville Staple and his prop machine gun,
seconds before kicking off "Gangsters"
on "Saturday Night Live," April 19, 1980:
YouTube screen capture>


<The Specials: "Saturday Night Live," April 19, 1980,
mine their signature groove during "Gangsters":
L-R: Roddy Radiation (nee Byers), 
Horace Panter, Neville Staple, Terry Hall, 
John Bradbury (on drum riser, obscured), 
Lynval Golding, Jerry Dammers (at keyboard, out of shot):
YouTube screen capture>


 "I grew up in an environment where you didn't really know where you were from. Coventry was built on immigrants because it was an industrial city looking for cheap labor. I don't think it's an accident that a group like the Specials came out of that." 
(Terry Hall, Dorset Echo, 12/11/15)

<i.>
How often do we witness a game-changing moment? For me, the Specials' performance on NBC-TV's "Saturday Night Live" (April 19, 1980) qualifies, because it marked my first real introduction to this ska-punk thing I'd been reading about in rags like CREEM, and Rolling Stone.

I was well into my deep dive through the worlds of punk, New Wave and garage, augmented by a healthy dose of dub, reggae, and whatever experimental sounds I could get my hands on. When I wasn't hitting the local record shops, I'd spend hours scouring the dollar eight track bins, looking for classics that I'd missed the first time around, or obscurities that seemed intriguing.

I'd stay up until one or two a.m. on Friday and Saturday nights, enduring the likes of Dr. Hook on "The Midnight Special," so I could catch the latest left field favorites that had struck my fancy. (They usually showed them last, or next to last, of course.)  As much as people dissed rock on TV back then, for me, it was a lifeline in an area where Foreigner and REO Speedwagon reigned supreme. 

With that feeling in mind, I eagerly awaited the Specials' American TV debut. Like millions of other American teenagers, what I knew about ska could fit on a postcard --  that it had preceded reggae in Jamaica, during the late '60s, and had a distinct socially conscious tinge, too. But what it sounded like, I had no clue, so I didn't know what to expect.

The mystery cleared up right away when co-vocalist Neville Staple stepped onstage shouting, "Bernie Rhodes knows, don't argue," the spoken intro that kicks off their classic debut single, "Gangsters" -- a backhanded tribute of sorts to the Clash's supremo, who'd briefly been their manager.

Then it was one, two, three, four, and bam! The screen exploded into a blur of arms, legs, and adrenaline, as the purple-suited lead singer, Terry Hall, bit down on lyrics that equated music biz skulduggery ("Why must you record my phone call? Are you planning a bootleg LP?") with society at large ("I dread to think, what the future'll be/When we're living in real gangster time!"). 

Seeing this seven-piece shimmying and sliding across SNL's postage-stamp sized stage, with barely a letup, nor any pause for breath, made for a riveting spectacle, to put it mildly. The sight repeated itself for the second song, "Too Much Too Young," a dour sideswipe at marriage and family life ("Ain't he cute? No he ain't/He's just another burden of the welfare state"). 

When the smoke cleared from my ears, and my brain, I had no doubt that I'd witnessed something special. Ah, so that's what they mean by this thing called ska, I thought. More, please! More, more, more of this short sharp shock! 

My father, with whom I'd been watching the show in the den, offered a characteristically different take. He looked up long enough from his evening paper, to declare, "They all jump around like wire dolls!"

That sealed the deal for me! I promptly went out and bought the classic debut album The Specials, recorded and released a scant six months before their TV appearance, in October 1979. It didn't leave my turntable for the next six months, I'm sure of that.


<Front Cover Art
Bootleg tape I bought in the UK:
Specials, The Lyceum, London, 12/2/79>



<ii.>
It's always tough when we lose the iconic favorites we've grown up with, but 2022 has felt harder than most. The past couple months alone have seen the passing of Jet Black (12/6), Tyrone Downie (11/5), Martin Duffy (12/18), Wilko Johnson (11/21), Keith Levene (11/11), Kim Simmonds (12/13), Nik Turner (11/10) -- names I'd long ago gotten used to seeing, on album and CD credits -- and now, Terry Hall,  who died at 63, on December 18, after a brief battle with pancreatic cancer.

Still, his passing felt especially shocking, as the reunited band -- now functioning as a quorum of Hall, Golding, and Panter -- were preparing to realize a long-held ambition of cutting a reggae-flavored album in the US. On the surface, anyway, nothing had seemed amiss. Yet behind the scenes, the singer's health was rapidly entering its final downward spiral, as Panter has since clarified, via a lengthy, emotional post on his Facebook timeline.

The moment feels eerily apropos, coming almost 20 years to the passing of the Clash's iconic frontman, Joe Strummer (12/21/02), who took the Specials out on tour with them after seeing one of their gigs, an act that cemented their status as a groundbreaking band.

Like Strummer, Hall essentially learned his trade in public, though getting there took some time, as he told The Big Issue in 2021. Having left school at 15, "I was just starting to get an angle on what I wanted to be and what I wanted to do," he said.

"There was a period where I was signing on and using my dole money to buy records. 
Young Americans by David Bowie was a defining record for me and I had the first inkling that maybe I wanted to be in a band. But I found it difficult to work out how you actually did it."

The "aha" moment, of course, came from catching the Clash and the Sex Pistols in action. After a brief stint with The Squad, Coventry's answer to punk rock's Year Zero, Hall joined The Specials. "They didn't seem like they could play very well either, so the thing was to form a band and work it out. That's what we did."



Above: The '79 bootleg cassette song list
Below: That iconic first LP back cover shot

                       
<iii.>
They certainly did. What hasn't already been said about The Specials, released only six months after Margaret Thatcher's election as Prime Minister? The All Music Guide states the case perfectly for me: "
A perfect moment in time captured on vinyl forever." Then and now, few debut albums sound more fully realized. 

And few soundtracked the times to such chilling, yet ear-catching. effect. The mood 
shifts from defiant resolve ("It's Up To You": "Stand there like parked cars if you want to/We can't force you to enjoy this music/Take it or leave it, we'll carry on regardless"), to fear of confrontation (Byers' "Concrete Jungle": "I can't dress the way I want/I'm being chased by the National Front"), and pleas for tolerance ("Doesn't Make It All Right": "Just because you're a black boy/Just because you're a white/It doesn't mean you've got to hate him/It doesn't mean you've got to fight").

Humorous moments abound, too, particularly on the covers, like "Monkey Man," and originals like "Stupid Marriage," with Staple presiding as "Judge Roughneck" over a rude boy who's smashed up his ex-girlfriend's window. Now headed off to five months in prison, the jilted ex-boyfriend summarizes the anonymous couple's empty, pointless existence in one withering couplet:  "Naked woman, naked man, where did you get that nice suntan?" The song ends with a cymbal crash, as the good judge shouts: "TAKE HIM AWAY!" 

Yet beneath the good times, the whiffs of missed opportunities are never far away, as Hall laments in "Nite Klub" ("Is the place to be? What am I doing here, watching the girls go by, spending money on beer?"). Staple voices similar frustrations in "Dawning Of A New Era," after hitting it off with the girl from Area Three ("I climbed the stairs to the fourteenth floor/The key won't fit the door"), amid the threat of racially tinged violence that's never far ("Sticks and stones may break my bones/In Area Six, they threw bottles and bricks and kicks").

Throughout all these goings-on, Hall's voice serves as just much of an instrument as Dammers's bubbling organ, or the clipped, staccato bursts of guitar from Byers and Golding, or the sheer limber agility of the Bradbury-Panter rhythm section. One of my Facebook friends described him as "a singular singer," and that's definitely true here -- as his voice zigzags from outright contempt, to been-there, done-that indifference, to unbounded outrage at the turmoil of late '70s Britain that he and his bandmates were chronicling.

Though not a trained vocalist, Hall was already working out the signature persona that would define much of his career -- the weary observer who found the strength to endure, yet never stopped calling out the injustices around him. As Hall told The Big Issue: "Politics and music has always gone hand in hand with The Specials, especially on our first album [in 1979]. Even if we couldn’t change things, we could make people aware."

For me, seeing the band on "Saturday Night Live" was as close as I got to experiencing them live. Then again, I didn't feel put out, as The Specials offers more an apt snapshot of their unique onstage alchemy. As producer, Elvis Costello did a great job of capturing that vibe; even if you weren't there in person, you get the idea.

Though ska and reggae formed the bedrock of the band's sound, "if you listen to the first album, it's not all ska," as Panter himself pointed out, when I interviewed him in 1996. True enough. There's plenty of punk-infused energy to spare, of course, with subtle nods to funk, pop, soul, and even a gentle ballad ("You're Wondering Now," since retooled into an uptempo theme song for the Caribbean crime show, "Death In Paradise").  
Whatever the band tried worked wonders, and really, who could resist such unbounded energy? The future seemed bright, indeed.



<Terry Hall and June Miles-Kingston, 
duetting on "Our Lips Are Sealed," 
The Regal Theater, Hitchin, 1983:
Terry Hall Fanpage (YouTube)>


"The Specials' ascendancy was swift. Two years, seven hit singles including two number ones, two hit albums, sell-out tours – the mass stage-invasions and audience energy only adding to the myth. They were everywhere; on Top of the Pops, Radio One, nightclubs and school discos. At the time, the nation could not have seemed more polarised: far right youth cults, violence on the streets, conservative government. Their demise, however, was rapid."
<thespecials.com>


<iv.>
If Terry Hall had never recorded anything else after The Specials, that album alone would have secured his legacy as a top level lyric writer and performer. As it turned out, his run was just beginning, after he, Lynval and Neville quit the Specials to form their next band, Fun Boy Three.

They left after scoring a #1 UK hit with the non-album single, "Ghost Town," a grim recounting of a nation literally coming apart at the seams ("This town is coming like a ghost town/Why must the youth fight against themselves? Government leaving the youth on the shelf"). As career cues go, Hall felt distinctly uncomfortable with the timing ("
Why do we need that reward – to say, OK, the world’s shit, our country’s in a mess, do you like my gold record?")

The trio also felt unsatisfied with the second album, More Specials (1981). Having re-listened to it this week, I understand why, but that's another story for another time. Burned out from constant touring, Hall and his cohorts wanted to take the pedal off the metal, and strike out in a different direction.

They hit a home run on Waiting (1983), the second Fun Boy Three album, which is probably best known for the "other" version of the Go-Gos' breakthrough hit, "Our Lips Are Sealed. Guitarist Jane Wiiedlin co-wrote the track with Hall, with whom she shared a brief dalliance, during a seaside tour of Britain in 1980. I prefer the Fun Boy Three version, whose slower-burning, somber vibe brings out more of the song's emotional nuances, but to each their own.

But there's way more to the story. Waiting, Like The Specials, is a cross-section of social ills, only with glossier brush strokes. This is the decade, after all, where Thatcher infamously intoned, "There is no such thing as society." Taken on those terms, "The Things We Do" seems like the perfect soundtrack for Thatcher's endorsement of social ennui, as Hall croons over a cello- and piano-laden backdrop: "Do middle-aged women wear cameo brooches? Do young office lechers drive clapped out Porsches? Do salesgirls at Tescos wear boots number seven? Do you eat digestives at half past eleven?"

A verse later, he supplies the dispiriting punchline:
"Is this what we are? Is there nothing inside? If you swallow your food, would you swallow your pride?" Not a pretty picture of humanity, is it? But the wealth of detail packed into each line makes the song feel believable, and we can all think of suitably American examples of the kind of people that Hall's describing. 

My other favorite tracks include "The More I See (The Less I Believe"), which shines a light on that complicated subject called Northern Ireland ("The barbed wire fences have replaced all the trees"), and "The Farm Yard Connection," a pointed, journalistic-style look at who really benefits from the drug trade ("And when the law squad come and took away our weed, bam goes another week's wages, bam goes our family's feed"), an issue lost to its clueless customers ("
They talked about life but missed all the points, points, points, points, points, points, points").

You also get lighter moments, such as "We're Having All The Fun," a Ramones-style celebration of the ordinary, in which each vocalist takes a verse to describe what they like doing every day. It doesn't prepare you for "Well Fancy That," which closes the US version, and ranks among the most chilling songs about sex abuse ever written ("I feel asleep/Woke up with a shock/And your hands on me/I couldn't shout/I couldn't scream"), an experience that Hall endured at age 12, and one that prompted him to become an active mental health advocate later in life.

When the Specials reunited in 2008, the band set up stalls on behalf of Tonic For Mental Health, a charity that Hall actively aided and supported until his death. The results proved remarkable to see, as Tonic's founder and chief executive, Steph Langan, told The Daily Telegraph:

“At Specials gigs we would have older skinhead men crying and opening up, and that was quite incredible because we were able to reach people that we wouldn’t otherwise have been able to reach. A lot of fans of The Specials are men of a certain age who probably have never really opened up about their mental health before.”



<Terry Hall, The Colourfield:
Live On "The Tube,"
Newcastle, 3/3/84>


<v.>
In typical fashion, Hall didn't stay in one place too long. The Fun Boy Three officially closed up shop on July 7, 1983, after a show at the Ritz, in New York City. (Contrarians to the end, their setlist had expanded to include an unlikely take on the Doors' epic ode to patricide, "The End.") Hall's next band, The Colourfield, staked out a darker, more introspective, acoustic-based path, but his lyrical acuity remained sharp as ever.

For proof, look no further than "Pushing Up Daisies," a smack at the pop biz that he'd never felt fully comfortable inhabiting (
"There's no business like show business, like no business I know/The curtain falls to no applause/When no one goes to sell out shows/You're pushing up the daisies"), or "Sorry," which recounts the sorrow of a relationship built on sand ("We're trying to turn the clocks back, to find the missing piece/But every time we smile, we smile through bridged teeth"). 

Even as longtime fans hoped for a Specials reunion, you had to respect Hall's determination not to retrace his steps, purely for profit -- unlike many of his peers from the era that produced him.

The next couple of decades yielded two '90s-era solo albums (Home, Laugh), and a dizzying series of collaborations (Dub Pistols; D12; Gorillaz; Hall and Mushtaq; Terry, Blair & Anouchka; Vegas, a duo with the Eurythmics' Dave Stewart). I'm not familiar with most of these, honestly, so we'll have to leave it there for now (but it'll be worth another essay, once I rectify that omission).

Inevitably, though, perhaps, the Specials resurrected themselves -- alongside many of their fellow 2-Tone alumni, including the English Beat, Madness, and The Selecter -- and seemingly picked up where they left off. Two new albums quickly followed, including Encore (2019) -- the first new material to feature Hall, since 1981 -- and the self-explanatorily-titled Protest Songs 1924-2012 (2021).

Both peaked at #1 and #2 UK, respectively, showing the band as to be prescient and relevant as it had ever been. "When we made the first Specials record, there was a woman prime minister -- a Tory -- and today, there is a woman prime minister Tory [Theresa May," as Hall wryly observed, at the time of Encore's release. "But it just feels exactly the same... It's actually got a lot worse."



<ITV News Interview, 2/1/19:
"Nothing's changed in massively divided Britain...">


<Coda>
So what do we make, exactly, of this combustive cocktail of art and activism? Well, there's no question that, as sad as his death feels, Terry Hall made the most of the time that he had. He made every word count, which gave his lyrics that much greater weight. No matter what he endured, he fought through those experiences, and persevered, which is all you can ask from any artist.

For me, his influence was massive, like the others that won over my interest -- Joe Strummer and Paul Weller, Billy Bragg and Steve Ignorant, Dick Lucas and Vi Subversa, Viv Albertine and Poly Styrene...the list is endless, and I could go on forever. Like all of those that I've just mentioned, he showed that you could sing about big topics and big ideas without falling into the classic traps of simple sloganeering, or self-mythologizing, or being purely self-serving.

Most importantly of all, he didn't just talk the talk. The Specials' multiracial lineup, in and of itself, provided ample evidence of that ideal in action. So did the other mixed and all-female bands that followed them, and the explosion of ska scenes all around the world. So did his mental health activism, which I've mentioned.

So did the band's formation of its own label (2-Tone), that gave birth to a look, a sound, and a mission statement -- the push for a society that serves everyone's needs, not just those of a fortunate few -- that should provide plenty of inspiration for another generation to create its own soundtrack, in politics and in life.

Hall recognized as much, which framed what he'd tell his younger self, as he outlined in his Big Issue interview: "He paid his way. He didn't tread on anybody getting there. And he did it on his own terms but with respect for others. What more can you want, really? What more is there?"

So there you go. Indeed, he is missed, but in another way, he's still with us, through his words and music. What we do about that? Like the song says: it's up to us. --Chairman Ralph


Links To Go (Tip Your Hat, Take It All In,
And Think About The Possibilities...)

Chairmanralph.com: "Bernie Rhodes Knows, Don't Argue":
https://www.chairmanralph.com/clashbookdispatches/entry?id=3;fa=1


The Big Issue: Terry Hall:
"The Specials Have Always Been About Protest":

https://www.bigissue.com/culture/music/terry-hall-the-specials-have-always-been-about-protest/

The Daily Telegraph:
Plenty Of Other Rock Stars Open Up
About Mental Health -- But Terry Hall Made Skinheads Cry:

https://www.telegraph.co.uk/music/artists/plenty-rock-stars-open-mental-health-terry-hall-made-skinheads/

The Guardian: Terry Hall: Specials Frontman
Died Of Pancreatic Cancer...

https://www.theguardian.com/music/2022/dec/21/terry-hall-specials-frontman-died-of-pancreatic-cancer-says-bandmate

The Specials: The Band (Official Website):
https://www.thespecials.com/the-band

Yahoo Entertainment:
Ska Legends The Specials
On Why Their Brexit-Era Comeback Album
The Specials' Ska And New Wave Pioneer
2-Tone: The Sound Of Coventry:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qM1sv_gQGxw

BBC Archive ("Arena," 3/12/80):
The Specials, Selecter & 2-Tone:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XSK73D4p04o

Channel Four:
2-Tone Britain:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LjY7bSnnpQQ

Fun Boy Three: 
Live At The Regal Theater, 1983:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HXQpuN45xTA

Fun Boy Three:
Live In Germany: May 11, 1983:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fyc5jq5a2PE




Saturday, December 24, 2022

My Corona Diary (Take XL): "We Need You Back (In The Office, That Is)..."

 

<"We Need You Back..."
Take I/The Reckoner>


<i.>
It had to happen, I suppose. Like millions of other workers out there, I too am now feeling the nudge-nudge-nudge -- gently-gently, at first, but lately, it feels more like a rude poke in the ribs -- to come back into the office, "if only for once or twice a week."

Given that I've largely made my living from my living room for 16-odd years, this directive strikes me as odd, especially after recalling how The Powers That Be (TPTB) sold my current job: "You'll keep doing what you're doing now, from home, but you'll get a regular paycheck." Sounded good to me, so I signed up, and that's how I've been spending my last year.

Apparently, that's not good enough anymore, though why hasn't been made clear to me, since my work -- primarily editorial, as I've chronicled -- can be done anywhere. It's not a new argument, as I realized in 2004, when I pitched a big city paper about working from home for them as a correspondent. I got a swift response, but not the one I'd imagined: "Oh, no, we can't do that. (Pause.) We're not going to pay to maintain an office." 

"But soon, nobody will need to go into an office anymore," I protested, trying to paper over my exasperation. "Soon, you'll able to work from anywhere -- desert island, middle of rural nowhere, the confines of your own home. Take your pick."

What the editor told me, I no longer recall. But her response sounded worthy of Homer Simpson's punchline: "The Internet? Is that thing still around?" 

Needless to say, the person who sparred with me over this issue is retired, like so many others in the news business who failed to appreciate the dawning of the new digital era. It reminds me of Metallica's fumbled response to the advent of Napster, with one major difference. Unlike Metallica, most ex-journalists won't have a rich back catalog to see them through their golden years. Such is life in today's technocracy, I suppose.


<"We Need You Back..."
Take II/The Reckoner>

<ii.>
As the above exchange suggests, The Office has always exerted a powerful, yet puzzling, gravitational pull on the American psyche. Otherwise, we'd hardly have a hit TV show named after it, would we? In many ways, "The Office" is simply the latest version of The Man In The Gray Flannel Suit (1956), or Mike Judge's comedy, Office Space (1999). 

But one message comes through loud and clear, in all of these Hollywood concoctions: The Office isn't a place you'd ever hang out willingly, if a different option presented itself. It's a whirlpool of bitterness and bitchiness, where it never takes long for hidden animosities to surface. Cue that shopworn punchline, "How boring is an office? You won't know till you try working in one."

That's why I piss myself laughing whenever some talking head waxes poetic about the camaraderie and collaboration that people are missing, by continuing to resist the Iron Nudge to return. If you read our Jobs To Nowhere series, you already know how hard I struggled to remember the good times at work. There were a few notable instances, but honestly, I struggled to recall most of them.

The Vox story (see below) makes some interesting points about the whole business. The general consensus suggests the whiff of a classic overdog power move: All right, you bastards. We know how much you've enjoyed working at home, but guess what? The party's over. Time to drag your asses back, so we can abuse you in person, all over again.

I've asked other people for some perspective about my predicament: "We've gotten by a whole year without having to rub shoulders. Why the rush?" The suggested motives I've heard range from control freak maneuvers ("Soon, you'll be coming in every day"), to financial ("They paid for all that office space, they want to get something out of it"), to resentment from above ("The heads figure, if they have to be there every day, so should you").

Still, what's the point of all that technology, if we can't capitalize on the flexibility ir promises? That's certainly true of cities like Los Angeles, where drivers spend roughly three hours a day schlepping back and forth to work. Who wants to endure that kind of insanity all over again?

And that's before we get to the other issue -- whether that green-eyed COVID monster's gearing up for another winter go-round. Time will tell soon enough there, obviously.


<"Be Seeing You..."/The Reckoner>

<iii.>
I just remember how I felt in Chicago, commuting forty-five minutes back and forth from the north suburbs, all to make my overdog bosses richer, as I scratched and scraped on $9.75 an hour. Without my freelance writing income, The Squawker and I would have struggled even more.

Words can't do justice to how much that commute curdled my stomach. For three years, Monday through Friday, I'd walk six blocks to a cattle call bus stop, where cigarette smoke and stale exhaust mingled with the gray and white snowflakes of pigeon shit that coated the roofs of the so-called bus shelters.

I don't recall feeling any camaraderie there, either. For the most part, my fellow travelers buried their noses in books and magazines, or stared blankly ahead, resigned to their fates.

I can't fake any warm and fuzzy feelings for those gauzy gray late '90s day, just as the Internet began rearranging the rhythm 'n' blues of our lives. Compare and contrast with today, when I began looking for remote jobs, and got 100 or so to come up, with little effort.

Guess what? Some outfits are so hot to get their hands on a warm body, they're offering $1,000 signing bonuses. In some cases, you can work remotely, even if your job happens to be in another state. Who wouldn't scoop up an option like that? 

Of course, the real reason behind this sudden snap of the leash is straightforward, as a media company vice president tells Vox. She too commutes three hours to work every day, while trying to raise a child as a single parent. Of course, these facts cut little ice with her bosses, who continue to work remotely, even as they demand everyone else return to the office:

“It’s unfair, but then management was always privileged,” she said, referring to the people above her. “This is just a new way of showing that privilege.”

Indeed, some animals are always more equal than others. What else is new? But with a current ratio of 1.7 per open jobs per worker, I'm not sure how many people feel inclined to listen. My current issue remains unresolved, but if I need any motivation, I only have to recall the general flow of events in Titanic -- the James Cameron version, that is.

Those who scrapped for a seat on the lifeboats, more often than not, secured a shot at survival. Those tophatted and tailcoated gentlemen who paused to knock back another cocktail, as they tut-tutted that unseemly rush to the exits, punched themselves a first-class ticket, straight to the bottom of the Atlantic.

Moral of the story? Not everything good comes to those who wait. As long as that 1:1.7 ratio hangs in our favor, make whatever moves you can. Because the way I feel, and the way things are going, it couldn't have happened to a "better" bunch of guys. --The Reckoner


Links To Go (Don't Hurry, Hurry,
'N' Worry Yourself Back To Work...)
Forbes: Bosses Are Winning 

Vox: You're Going Back To The Office...:
https://www.vox.com/recode/2022/10/12/23400496/remote-work-from-home-office-boss-manager-hypocrisy

(*We'll see, guys, we'll see. I wouldn't get out the confetti just yet.)