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Kate Tempest has unveiled an unapologetically audacious protest track that attacks politics.
The spoken word artist was set to release the song in 2016 but along with her producer, Dan Carey, felt that it held more resonance with immediate political issues.
Known for her poetry, Tempest delivers some of her best lyrics above a relentlessly stubborn and mucky beat. Her style of aligning provocative prose with stern messages is powerful.
“And it's back to the House of Lords with slapped wrists/They abduct kids and fuck the heads of dead pigs” is disturbing, whilst “But him in a hoodie with a couple of spliffs/ Jail him, he’s the criminal” delivers the message home.
A powerful protest song has been long overdue and Tempest has certainly filled that void.
Europe is lost, America lost, London is lost,
Still we are clamouring victory.
All that is meaningless rules,
And we have learned nothing from history.
People are dead in their lifetimes,
Dazed in the shine of the streets.
But look how the traffic keeps moving.
The system’s too slick to stop working.
Business is good. And there’s bands every night in the pubs,
And there’s two for one drinks in the clubs.
We scrubbed up well
We washed off the work and the stress
Now all we want’s some excess
Better yet; A night to remember that we’ll soon forget.
All of the blood that was shed for these cities to grow,
All of the bodies that fell.
The roots that were dug from the ground
So these games could be played
I see it tonight in the stains on my hands.
The buildings are screaming
I cant ask for help though, nobody knows me,
Hostile and worried and lonely.
We move in our packs and these are the rights we were born to
Working and working so we can be all that want
Then dancing the drudgery off
But even the drugs have got boring.
Well, sex is still good when you get it.
To sleep, to dream, to keep the dream in reach I feel the cost of it pushing my body It’s big business baby and its smile is hideous. The water levels rising! The water levels rising! Massacres massacres massacres/new shoes Oh but it's happy hour on the high street, And you wonder why kids want to die for religion? Work all your life for a pittance, Anarchists desperate for something to smash It's the BoredOfItAll generation Bullshit saccharine ballads And selfies Construct a self and psyhcosis Sleep like a gloved hand covers our eyes We are lost We have ambitions and friends and our courtships to think of
To each a dream,
Don’t weep, don’t scream,
Just keep it in,
Keep sleeping in
What am I gonna do to wake up?
Like I push my hands into pockets
And softly I walk and I see it, it’s all we deserve
The wrongs of our past have resurfaced
Despite all we did to vanquish the traces
My very language is tainted
With all that we stole to replace it with this,
I am quiet,
Feeling the onset of riot.
But riots are tiny though,
Systems are huge,
The traffic keeps moving, proving there’s nothing to do.
Top down violence, structural viciousness.
Your kids are doped up on medical sedatives.
But don’t worry bout that. Worry bout terrorists.
The animals, the polarbears, the elephants are dying!
Stop crying. Start buying.
But what about the oil spill?
Shh. No one likes a party pooping spoil sport.
Ghettoised children murdered in broad daylight by those employed to protect them.
Live porn streamed to your pre-teens bedrooms.
Glass ceiling, no headroom. Half a generation live beneath the breadline.
Friday night at last lads, my treat!
All went fine till that kid got glassed in the last bar,
Place went nuts, you can ask our Lou,
It was madness, the road ran red, pure claret.
And about them immigrants? I cant stand them.
Mostly, I mind my own business.
But they’re only coming over here to get rich.
It’s a sickness.
England! England!
Patriotism!
Maybe you’ll make it to manager,
Pray for a raise
Cross the beige days off on your beach babe calendar.
Scandalous pictures of glamorous rappers in fashionable magazines
Who’s dating who?
Politico cash in an envelope
Caught sniffing lines off a prostitutes prosthetic tits,
And it's back to the house of lords with slapped wrists
They abduct kids and fuck the heads of dead pigs
But him in a hoodie with a couple of spliffs –
Jail him, he’s the criminal
The product of product placement and manipulation,
Shoot em up, brutal, duty of care,
Come on, new shoes.
Beautiful hair.
And selfies
And selfies
And here’s me outside the palace of ME!
And meanwhile the people are dead in their droves
But nobody noticed,
Well actually, some of them noticed,
You could tell by the emoji they posted.
The lights are so nice and bright and lets dream
But some of us are stuck like stones in a slipstream
What am I gonna do wake up?
We are lost
We are lost
And still nothing
Will stop
Nothing pauses
Divorces to drink off the thought of
The money
The money
The oil
Watch the track below
