Poison Girls - Chappaquiddick Bridge

POISON GIRLS - 

CHAPPAQUIDDICK BRIDGE

Chappaquiddick Bridge was the début album from Poison Girls, named after the incident in 1969 in which the car of Senator Ted Kennedy, the younger brother of President John F Kennedy, went off a bridge and into a river, killing the female passenger. The incident led to much scandal and controversy due to Kennedy managing to swim to safety but then fleeing the scene of the accident and not reporting it to the police until the next day. Following an autopsy, it was found the girl had died not from drowning but through suffocation. Apparently she had been able to find an air pocket inside of the submerged car where she would have been able to stay alive for a while and if Kennedy had only called the police and the rescue services immediately she could have been saved. Kennedy for some reason or other escaped being jailed and remained a Senator until his death in 2009.

Though carrying the by now almost obligatory instruction of 'Pay no more than...', the gate-fold sleeve of the album broke away from what was becoming the normal Crass label black and white design and was instead a glossy and bright red affair, incorporating a beautiful yin yang/foetus symbol.

An unlisted and unannounced track starts the album, slowly fading in and turning on its axis like a giant discus spinning endlessly on its edge before fading quietly away again: "State control and rock'n'roll are run by clever men," sings Vi Subversa, sounding as though her point of view is born from personal experience and a worldly wisdom. "It's all good for business and it all goes round again. State control and rock'n'roll are run by clever men, politics are ultra chic and wars are in again. Revolution's this year's thing, we're on the streets again and again." Vi's message is essentially one of caution - to watch out, to beware - because everything is a game of swings and roundabouts with fashions coming and fashions going; all controlled by "the boss mob". Everything is sold and then re-sold because "it's all good for business". Music in particular but even wars, politics, revolution, ideology and political theory - and "anarchy is this year's thing".

Being regular touring partners of Crass and from being on the Crass label, Poison Girls were viewed as part of an Anarcho/Crass package though of course they were very much their own band and the marriage was essentially one of convenience. Vi Subversa was a self-proclaimed anarchist and through her songs with Poison Girls and her deliverance of them through her unique vocal style brought a warmth and a strange sense of wonder to Poison Girls' anarchism that was missing from the Crass version. In songs on the album such as Hole In The Wall and Other, there's no overt or apparent political message at all but the sense of wonder and strangeness is obvious, enhanced by the use of piano, echo and dub sound effects.

The stand out track on the whole album is Daughters And Sons which whilst dealing in the very un-rock'n'roll subjects of age, growing old and loss, is brilliantly and exceptionally inspirational.

To the sound of an electric violin effect and a dropping, single bass note, Vi sets the scene: "When you wake up sweating, sweating from a dream, from the same dream that you had the night before. And you're feeling old and you feel the cold from a drought that's coming in through your door... And your son has gone out, yes he's gone out hunting with the man who was your brother. And your daughter's lying, lying on the bed with the man who was your lover... And your daughter's gone out, yes she's gone out dancing with the one who was your lover. And she's picked up all your songs, all the songs you ever sang. And she's picked up plenty more."

As the song builds to a crescendo, a faint guitar riff grows ever louder before being joined by bass, drums and backing vocals. It's at this point that the song rises to a whole new level as Vi, like a matriarch supreme, beseeches her "daughters and sons" to "sing your own songs, you've got your own songs to sing. You can sing your own songs, there's new songs to sing. Come on, sing your own songs - you've got new songs to sing. Sing your own songs."

In its own modestly quiet way, Daughters And Sons is as powerful and inspiring as anything written and sung by the Pistols, The Clash or indeed even Crass. The point of the song being not only an imploring of children to sing their own songs but to live their own life. 'It's your life, so smash and grab it', as Poison Girls would later declare.

The album ends with another unlisted and unannounced track comprised of a few very simple lines sung very sweetly but repeatedly by a young girl: "Oh, my tender lover. Be my tender lover. Be my tender love." The girl's voice is joined and then gradually eclipsed by the much older sounding, cracked and smoke-ravaged voice of Vi's reciting the exact same words, followed by the sound of children laughing and playing. This short but evocative rhyme evokes a depth of emotion that most other bands could only ever dream of and stands as an example of how successfully Poison Girls could marry complex feelings in certain songs with a hardline anarchist stance in others without compromising on either.

This delicate yet complicated balance is exemplified in the song entitled Statement which came as an additional 7" flexi-disc enclosed within the sleeve of the album. The very first lines of this track as recited by Vi places her fairly, squarely and without equivocation into the anarchist camp of Anarcho Punk: "I denounce the system that murders my children. I denounce the system that denies my existence. I curse the system that makes machines of my children. I reject the system that makes men of machines." Vi then goes on to curse, reject and denounce that same system "that turns the bodies of my own sweet flesh into monsters of iron and steel and war, that turns the hearts of my children against this earth, that turns the genitals of my children into factories of fire and destruction. And rapes our flesh, and tears our womb, this earth our home."

In between Vi's heartfelt pronouncements the accompanying music stops to make space for a lone voice to appear, plaintively declaring "There are no words, for us no words. There are no words." Vi then asks despairingly "Where are they that will cherish my flesh? Where are they that will cherish my children? The men that will stand against the deathdealers? The children who can say No to the lifestealers? Where are they that will curse the deathdealers? I denounce the system."

This combination of stark defiance and sad acknowledgement is what gives the song and what gives Poison Girls a rare benevolence, in the process creating something very unique and very, very special.

Due to their partnership with Crass, Poison Girls were sharing and communicating with the same audience but it's probably true to say that Poison Girls were appealing more to the female members and the more thoughtful elements of that audience. To some, Poison Girls were indeed deemed to be a better band than Crass and in many ways they actually were. Whatever, without question Poison Girls were - like Crass - a uniquely profound band who impacted deeply upon a lot of people causing them to consider, to think and - just as importantly - to act.

The Stonehenge Rampage

THE STONEHENGE RAMPAGE

That summer of 1980, in an entirely different corner of society another smaller yet far more grievous riot of sorts took place, this time out on the Wiltshire plains at the annual Stonehenge Free Festival.

Unbeknownst to their burgeoning audience at that time, members of Crass had been seminal to the setting up of the first Stonehenge festival in 1974. From it beginning as a gathering of a few hundred hippies in those early days, it had steadily grown and developed into an absolutely unique cultural phenomenon that by 1980 was attracting thousands. The Stonehenge festival was an example of freedom in the raw where practically anything was allowed due to the total lack of police presence. Standing like a post-apocalyptic shanty town where the music was free (courtesy of Hawkwind et al), the food was cheap or even free (courtesy of the Hari Krishnas), and the drugs were in abundance; it was a glimpse into how anarchy might - or might not - work.

Crass had played at the festival the previous year but on returning that following summer, due to their rising popularity they had attracted a large number of Punk Rockers to the site. Though Punk had moved on somewhat from the days of Sex Pistols-type outrage, to some, Punk still represented a challenge that was difficult to come to grips with. Teddy Boys, of course, were famously known for their dislike of Punk but unexpectedly there seemed to be certain bikers who also shared that disdain.

From its outset, Stonehenge was a predominantly hippy affair but as it grew so did the composition of its attendees, pulling in all kinds of people from different sections of society including straight-dressed kids from council estates (taking full advantage of the drugs sold openly there) and chapters of bikers (taking full advantage of the drugs also, of course). The council estate kids were fine and treated the festival like a narco Butlins so were simply there for a good time (and all the rest was propaganda) but a lot of the bikers seemed to have something to prove. Arriving on site usually in convoys, they would park up in circles and claim areas of the site as their own. Which was fine - anything that made them happy. Some, however, would claim the whole festival as their own and it was these who didn't take too kindly to what they saw that year as a Punk invasion.

Throwing bottles at Punk band The Epileptics was the first sign of their displeasure, which then quickly escalated to them seeking out and attacking any Punk Rocker they could find. The ensuing violence was brutal and frightening.

'Bikers Riot at Stonehenge' read the headline in the following week's NME though in truth it was more of a mindless rampage. The incident, however, convinced Crass to decide never to play Stonehenge or any other free festival again, which was really unfortunate. Nevertheless, by Crass being there at all a chain reaction had started and the floodgates were now opened. The budding Anarcho Punk culture had met face-to-face with free festival culture - causing a mutation in both.

The year 1976 and the advent of Punk is often cited as Year Zero. For some, this is undoubtedly the case but at the same time, Punk - and in particular the Sex Pistols - opened up the past and shone a light upon a veritable treasure trove of reference points and influences: The New York Dolls, Iggy Pop, the Velvet Underground, Patti Smith, the MC5, Captain Beefheart, Dr Feelgood, The Doors, The Who, Alice Cooper, the Situationists, King Mob, nihilism, anarchy, the mythology of the Berlin Wall and the Chelsea Hotel, Paris '68, Dickensian London, amphetamines... and heroin.

Likewise, Crass also illuminated a plethora of references, ideas, influences and possibilities; many intentionally but others not so: John Lennon, Walt Whitman, RD Laing, Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, Sartre, Arthur Rimbaud, Baudellaire, George Orwell, Richard Hamilton, John Heartfield, Wilfred Owen, anarchism, pacifism, feminism, atheism, existentialism, pop art, collage, Dada, graffiti, CND, black clothes, squatting, free festivals, hashish... and LSD.

All links in a chain. All important stepping stones to an ultimate yet unknown destination.

Worlds were colliding - be they political, social or cultural - causing metamorphosis, unification, friction and (as at Stonehenge) sometimes outright conflict.

It was the dawn of a new decade and as events unfurled in St Paul's in Bristol and at the Stonehenge Free Festival, less significantly (or perhaps more so?) the music charts were being assailed by such classic bands as The Jam, Dexy's Midnight Runners, and The Specials. It was Crass, however, who were arguably becoming the most important band in Britain due not only to their own records but also to the records they were releasing by other artists on their label...

The St Paul's Riot

THE ST PAUL'S RIOT

Following their victory in the 1979 General Election, the Conservative Party had vigorously set out on its mission to not only save Western Europe from the threat of Russian communism but to save Britain from itself. Thatcher viewed the post-Second World War years as an experiment in democratic socialism that had failed miserably, resulting in the UK being seen as 'the sick man of Europe' and its residents as being lazy, welfare State-dependent, and in thrall to the Unions. The cure for this 'British disease' was the implementation of the free enterprise economy where money to the public sector would be slashed whilst giving the private sector free rein to capitalise, profit and exploit. Gas and electricity prices were immediately increased along with prescription charges as the process of privatisation, Trade Union reform and property ownership was put into action.

Whilst promising to roll back the power of the State, pay increases for the police and the army were immediately implemented, thus increasing and ensuring its strength. Whilst promising to cut taxes and increase jobs, unemployment rose to an estimated two million mark. And whilst promising peace, the chance of war was increased dramatically by giving the go-ahead for America to site Cruise missiles on British soil.

Life in Britain was already ugly but was quickly becoming uglier and nowhere was this more pronounced than in the inner cities and out on the council estates where the brunt of the Conservative's economic policies were being felt, particularly by those already disadvantaged. Whole communities were rapidly becoming surplus to requirement, causing many to reject the system that was rejecting them. The first real signal of a growing anger and resentment being felt within these communities came in April of 1980 when a full-scale riot exploded on the streets of St Paul's in Bristol, sparked by what at the time was viewed as a so-called routine police raid on a local café.

The Black and White Café in Grosvenor Road, St Paul's, had been raided many times before by the police in searches for drugs and the illegal selling and consumption of alcohol but on this particular occasion a large crowd gathered to watch. Having arrested the café owner and loaded quantities of alcohol into a police van, bottles and stones started to be thrown from the gathering crowd at the police, prompted by plain-clothes police openly displaying to the crowd some bags of weed they were confiscating. As the police van drove away followed on foot by other officers clutching even more cans of confiscated alcohol, remaining officers took refuge inside the café and radioed for back-up.

Reinforcements duly arrived, marching upon the café in a military-style column but this attempted show of strength, rather than causing the crowd to disperse simply served to provoke it, causing even more missiles to be thrown.

The riot had begun.

Police officers were pelted with stones and chased off by the growing crowd, whilst abandoned police cars were overturned and set on fire. Sporadic but selective looting of various shops and businesses erupted including most notably a branch of Lloyd’s bank that was attacked, broken into and set alight. So sudden and all out was the assault upon the police that the Chief Constable in charge, seeing that even his dog handlers were failing to have any impact and fearing for the safety of his men, decided to completely withdraw all police from the area to await further reinforcements from neighbouring police forces.

By retreating like this, the police were conceding defeat and for them - at least until later that night when they returned with massive reinforcements, including a firearms team - St Paul's had become a no-go area. The police had lost their position of authority and now it was the crowd that was in control. The St Paul's mob was in power.

For years, St Paul's and other similar communities throughout the country - under both Labour and Conservative governments - had been made to feel useless, worthless and undesirable. Whole communities had been thrown upon the scrap heap and held there through inequality and lack of opportunity. If resident within any of these communities there was more than enough reason to be angry and what better way of venting anger than by attacking authority? The police, in inner city and on council estate alike being the most obvious, visible face of authority.

While politicians shook their heads in disbelief, wondering how such a thing as the St Paul's riot could happen, more pertinent questions went unasked and unanswered: If the police were meant to be serving and protecting a community but that community was rejecting them, what then was their role? Who were they actually serving? What were they actually protecting?

St Paul's was sending out a message and setting an example. In total, 22 police officers were injured that day and 21 police vehicles severely damaged, six being burned and destroyed. Along with a Lloyd's bank.

A way of saying 'No' had been found and St Paul's was saying it very loudly.

Riot was a weapon held by all that the police were afraid of. Riot was an expression of inarticulate rage. A tool at everyone's disposal. Riot for the hell of it and riot as a means to an end.

People in similar circumstances everywhere heard, saw and understood that if St Paul's could do it - then so could they.