“Men’s courses will
foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in, they must lead,” said
Scrooge. “But if the courses be departed from, the ends will change. Say it is
thus with what you show me!” – Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol
As we’ve all managed to survive the end of the world more or
less intact, it’s time to think about rebuilding our shattered civilization. What
will the post-apocalyptic landscape look like? The clean cut, sterile dystopia
of Logan’s Run? The barren wastelands
of the Fallout games? The badlands of
Mad Max or the sinister zombified
world of Resident Evil?
This is a theme which has been explored with various degrees
of success in recent years. Love them or hate them, My Chemical Romance’s Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous
Killjoys was an unusual record charting the battles of the fictional band (The
Fabulous Killjoys of the title) with a sinister corporation controlling a
post-apocalyptic desert landscape. Needless to say, I loved it – emo rock being
one of my foremost guilty pleasures.
Similarly ambitious was today’s effort from folk music hero
Jon Boden, who also serves as the frontman of the wonderful Bellowhead. Boden –
whose projects have also included releasing a different folk song for every day of the year – set himself the task
of charting a post-apocalyptic Britain through the medium of folk. Brilliantly,
he uses one of the most traditional forms of music to imagine a world of
radically new traditions, in which familiar elements of the modern world
combine with folk music to produce something which sounds simultaneously ancient
and disconcertingly of the here and now. “Dancing in the Factory”, for example,
recalls an ominous disaster which has destroyed society while also giving voice
to the frustrations of its young protagonist:
And all that
I can think about is wood smoke in the valley
Kisses in
the fallout shelter, dancing in the factory
That closed
so long ago, and no-one ever goes there now
Throughout the album, images of traditional
English country life combine with modernity in potentially disturbing combinations.
The church bells now ring out for “curfew”; parish boundaries are marked by “ivy
and barbed wire”; a sweetheart gathers “plastic bags in green and gold” for his
April Queen; another character ponders those who burn “sacrificial gasoline”, while
the traditional ceremony of beating the parish boundaries proceeds “Past the long neglected cars/Rusting in
suburban yards”. This post-apocalyptic society is traumatised – and in
responding to the end turns backwards. In today’s song, religion takes on an
ominous face as “preachers” recruit young men to further their schemes and
military endeavours, and the flooded world tries to forget the civilization
which continues to fall around its ears.
There is no hope in dystopia – but it can still
have potentially positive functions. As listeners in the pre-apocalypse world
we can (potentially at least) use the glimpse into the future to encourage us,
Scrooge like, to try and change things and avoided the flooded nightmare that
Boden imagines – “if the courses be departed
from, the ends will change”.
Don’t Wake
Me Up ‘til Tomorrow (Boden, 2010)
“Don’t wake
me up,” the blind man cries
“Spare me
your prophecies and your schoolboy lies
I can see
well enough when I close my eyes
Don’t wake
me up ‘til tomorrow”
For I have seen a thousand dreams
And dreamed
a thousand sorrows
Don’t wake
me up ‘til the grey cock crows
Don’t wake
me up ‘til tomorrow
The preacher’s
men were back last night
New sermons
on the common
And Sarah
James’ only son
Has left to
join their summoning
I saw her kiss
the boy goodbye
The
villagers all standing by
To watch the
child they never knew departing
And the
leaves are turning brown again
And
whitethorn blossoms on the lawn
And
everywhere the quiet shame
Of
hopelessness is dawning
But I have dreamed a thousand dreams
And dreamed
a thousand sorrows
Don’t wake
me up ‘til the darkness goes
Don’t wake
me up ‘til tomorrow
From
Bramwell down to Blind Man’s Copse
And in the
fields above us
The earth is
flecked with grey and white –
Paper
blossoms in the coppice
And here and
there the books still burn
The fire
consumes, the pages turn
We strike
like Titans to unlearn
And dream of
winter’s solace
But I have
dreamed a thousand dreams
And dreamed
a thousand sorrows
Don’t wake
me up ‘til the grey cock crows
Don’t wake
me up ‘til tomorrow
“Don’t wake
us up,” the sinners say
“Don’t take these foolish dreams away
There will
be time enough come judgement day
Don’t wake
us up ‘til tomorrow”
Don’t wake
me up ‘til the sun’s so high
That night
can never follow
Don’t wake
me up, don’t break me down
Don’t wake
me up ‘til tomorrow
