Song 5: Burn it Down

Burn it Down - Dexys Midnight Runners
"Hey Jimmy!" "Yeah!" "Al!" "Yeah!" "For God's sake, burn it down!"

This is a fucking incredible song from a fucking incredible album and if you don't think so you're a f...  no, hold on a second, that's not how I talk, that's not how I think, you're perfectly entitled to think whatever you like, but THIS, this right here, is the kind of music which almost, almost, gives me the boldness to say such things.

This is the first song from Dexys' first album 'Searching for the Young Soul Rebels' and I want to give you some idea of how bold and spectacular it is.

'Burn it Down' was originally released as a single called Dance Stance which is thoroughly inferior, I think, in particular because it doesn't contain the same coruscating intro as the album version.

So it begins: a radio changing stations - Deep Purple 'Smoke on the Water', Sex Pistols 'Holidays in the Sun', The Specials 'Rat Race', then the music abruptly stops and the exchange above (Hey Jimmy etc ..) takes place. A rejection, a scornful rejection of everything that has gone before. The choice of rejectees is particular striking and brilliant - ok, Deep Purple, that's to be expected, old hairy rock dinosaurs, but then, what's this, The Sex Pistols!?

They're the ones who are meant to do the the kicking out, not be kicked out themselves. As it turns out, Dexys frontman Kevon Rowland and John Lydon had a bit of personal history, and I know whose side I'd be on. Lydon always strikes me as a spectacular bore and I think the Sex Pistols were bettered by pretty much everything they inspired (I can't deny that they did indeed inspire a few great artists). I also like the fact that it's 'Holidays in the Sun' that Kevin Rowland picks on, as that song was such a shameless rip-off of The Jam's 'In the City' that it apparently prompted a fight between Weller and Lydon too.

The final song, 'Rat Race', rejected is perhaps even more wilful and spiky - The Sex Pistols were three years ago, they were the past, that's fine, but the Specials were a beloved, right-on band of the here and now, who Dexys had recently been on tour with. Talk about not trying to keep your friends.

Perhaps it was personal in this case, perhaps it wasn't. Either way, there is a serious point being made. We're on our own, the rest is worth nothing, and then as indicated by the blast of horns which begins the song for real, this is about soul.

And what a song! 'Burn it Down' took hold of me as soon as I heard it. It is an Irish song, a London Irishman's song of pride in his parents' native land. If I can paraphrase what Kevin is trying to say, it's a little along the lines of "You don't know anything, your time has passed, you think us Irish people are stupid bogtrotters, and yet you have no idea about the rich cultural heritage of the land. Get an education, you idiot!" Something a little like that ...

And the way he does it is to have the band chant the names of various Irish authors "So what do you think about ... Oscar Wilde ... Brendan Behan ... Sean O'Casey ... George Bernard Shaw ... Samuel Beckett ... Eugene O'Neill ... Edna O'Brien ... Lawrence Stern."

And those are only the ones that would scan!

And is if all that weren't enough belligerence, the song ends with a curt and delightful "Shut your fucking mouth till you know the truth!" Well, ok, then, that's me told.

And so what? After all that preamble. Well, first of all, they've got the album to back up such an explosive opening. 'Searching For the Young Soul Rebels' is a masterpiece, an unimpeachable masterpiece from start to finish, as close as it gets to a perfect record, which finishes even better than it starts, with the extraordinary companion piece 'There There My Dear' which I could write just as much about. It's soulful, joyful, mad, tight, sensational music, the likes of which had not been heard before and would not be heard again [not even by Dexys, who have determinedly gone a different path with every new album].

And what else? Well, Irishness matters. It mattered to me then and it matters to me now. And the particular kind of Irishness which I share with Kevin Rowland. The distant pride of the Irish emigrant, or the son of the Irish emigrant. There are countless millions of Irish descendants around the world, it's a proper sub-category, and, you know what, it's not fake or self-indulgent. I'm not Irish, I was born and brought up in London, but i've got an Irish name and an Irish face and I got called a potato-eater and a bogtrotter and an IRA member when I was at school - not viciously, but it happened. And I have heard an awful, awful lot of Englishman, Irishman and Scotsman jokes, thanks.

And it's annoying. I imagine it was a lot worse for Kevin Rowland than for me and, well, it fired him up. Throughout his career, from the glorious 'My National Pride' on 'Don't Stand Me Down' to a more considered and ambivalent take on it on 2012's comeback album 'One Day I'm Going To Soar' where he quietly and reflectively rejects the cliches of Irishness and ersatz patriotism to proclaim his own freedom and individuality above all.

But, let me tell you, this song, this album and Dexys' subesquent work made Irishness matter to me, it made me read Brendan Behan [in fact, I bought a 3 for 2 Irish offer at Blackwell's, where I worked, which contained 'Borstal Boy', 'A Star Called Henry' by Roddy Doyle and, hilariously, 'Full Time', the autobiography of Irish striker Tony Cascarino, who, as the book reveals as not a jot of Irish blood in him and only got to play 92 games for the Republic because of a clerical error. The book is at least Irish in that it was scintillatingly ghost-written by Paul Kimmage, who has his own fascinating story. A former tour cyclist, who left the sport in disgust at the doping practices he saw were widespread and has since then crusaded against it, to the extent of consistently, boldly calling out Lance Armstrong when Armstrong was the good guy and the hero] and WB Yeats, it made me listen to The Clancy Brothers, hell, it even made me think about reading James Joyce. Not quite, though.

And yes, it made me think about the Irish soul, this dangerous Behan cliche. My dad, educated in Cork, could recite the poems of Yeats, had learnt at school to translate into Latin verse [this is a level above me with my classics degree] and was still polishing off the Times crossword until the week he died. Somehow, this song gives me all that, this pride, this fury, this natural erudition, this understanding of the dangers and particularities of being a little bit Irish.

Kevin Rowland is a true, bizarre, inspiring, one-off - he kicked off his career like this and he has never taken the tiniest step back. He'd probably reject my reading of the song now. He'll be on Jools Holland tonight, apparently and i'm sure there'll be no 'Burn it Down', but I'll be happy if there's a 'Geno' or 'Til I Believe in My Soul', even a 'Come on Eileen'.

I'm searching for the young soul rebels, I can't find them anywhere, where have you hidden them. Maybe you should welcome the new soul vision, welcome the new soul vision, welcome the new soul vision ...