Compare Billy Bragg's new single "NPWA" with the standard schlock of commercial radio, and you'll get a good idea of how much we're always in need of thoughtful songwriting in our dumbed-down musical climate. While the song won't get the airplay of Alan Jackson's pathetic September 11 cash cow, it's still pretty incredible that Elektra Records chose to heavily promote the track, which stands for "No Power Without Accountability."
"NPWA" is one of many standout tunes on Bragg's latest record, England, Half English, co-written and recorded with his excellent new backing band, The Blokes. Known mainly for his lyric-writing, which can be brash and accusatory one minute, pained and pleading the next, Bragg also has a wonderful sense of melody that shows its face on this record more than any other, due largely to the writing and arranging sensibilities of his band.
The record kicks off with "St. Monday," a classic Braggian workers anthem that would be endearing and meaningful to any trampled-on 9-to-5er (I'm speaking from experience here, folks.) Bragg does the ode with passion and vigor, exuberantly ululating on the bouncy rock chorus, "I'm a hard worker/but I ain't working on a Monday."
England, Half English crosses many musical and topical paths, mixing rock, folk, country and ska with politics, love, sadness and joy. The title track is a light-hearted, rockabilly jaunt; "Baby Faroukh" dabbles in Afro-pop, with a beautifully percussive climax. But, while these diverse excursions make the album superior to his previous solo efforts, Bragg's still at his best when channeling the troubadour spirit, waxing like Woody on meaningfully simple folk tales.
It's no coincidence that he was at the center of the brilliant Mermaid Avenue albums, where Bragg teamed up with alt-country phenoms Wilco, penning musical accompaniments to unused Guthrie lyrics that were gathering dust. Hence the standout track on England, Half English, the lonely and battered "Tears Of My Tracks," is the album's closing statement. Repeating the deceptively positive line, "I'm down/but I'm not out/but Lord, I'm hurting," the song is a how-to manual for molding bare-bones angst into three chords.
So find shelter from modern rock radio spew, and once you've gathered your senses, turn to Billy Bragg to see who's accountable.
Appeared in the April 11, 2002, issue of Artvoice.