New single ‘Business As Usual’ by Catalonia-based Scottish singer Louis Rive tips its hat to hip-hop and cuts into the powers that be during the crisis with blistering lyrics that give voice to the anger of a generation.
When the powers-that-be looked at the ever-more distant European Union with its rising death tolls, unfamiliar looking police cars and panicked sound bites in languages that we don’t understand; they took a familiar and predictable line: It’s ‘business as usual’ here is the UK.
A few weeks later and we are reaping the seeds that we sowed, the leader who preached Blitz spirit, the importance of the economy and the certain loss of family members lies incapacitated by the virus. British spirit and stiff upper lips didn’t hold up against a pathogen that doesn’t discriminate between bank balance and social class. Still, the government’s negligence of our well being was evident and the damage had already been done. The message was clear; it’s better to be sick and working than to be poor and broke. Being ill has become preferable to being poor in a modern UK.
Louis Rive is no stranger to tackling social issues through music. His previous single ‘The State of the Nation’ pours scorn on the dual hypocrisy of both the Scottish and British governments in a post-Brexit UK. While such acerbic takes are unlikely to earn him a spot on breakfast radio, they remain more relevant than ever in a society which is currently under the microscope provided by the current crisis. This is what folk music was made for, protest and the highlighting of social issues. In a world where folk is often relegated to the immaculate dress code and unsubstantial lyrics that plague coffee shops and identikit bars, Louis’ fire puts more of the original punk attitude back into the genre.
It’s a loving tribute to the essential workers who are holding society together, and clear references to the shop workers and delivery workers who keep the nation fed and help those unable to leave their houses are interposed with the sense of powerlessness. At the same time visceral lyrics tear into the pillars of faceless capitalism, the stooges of ignorance and arrogance that have left the workers of this nation on their knees, frantically trying to keep it all together.
“Did you listen to the laughs, the cheers, the profiteers?
Bank balances embellished with an extra zero
You’re nothing but a number on a payslip given in the name of the minimum wage”
The corrupt ‘greased palms’ of politicians who put party donors before the folk that they are supposed to represent are joined by the convenient absence of organised religion in a time of crisis. Louis is unafraid of asking difficult questions, questions that deserve an immediate answer.
‘the money men, imitation Don Draper, sending out Deliveroo for toilet paper’
The bathroom with no window, mirror mirror on the wall
Who’s the fairest of them all, the undisputed belle of the ball?
Walking through the rain ‘cos the train’s on strike
But they had the gall, to label you ‘essential’
Against all common sense, now we sit on the fence
Waiting for someone just like me to take the fall
Did you think about the money men, imitation Don Draper?
Sending out Deliveroo for toilet paper
No contract means no consent about the wiping of a rich man’s arse
From ‘The Cheap Part of Town’ to this human zoo
A house made for seven that accommodates two
In splendid isolation, equality’s a farce
A murmur from the depths of hell grows louder every day
The economy is paralysed, the bill arrives and there no-one there to pay
We’ll remember next election who our friends are
Greased palms by example, champagne on standby
But in case you’ve forgotten the motto it’s never to late to be left at the bottom
When we hold all the cards
Did you listen to the laughs, the cheers, the profiteers
Bank balances embellished with an extra zero
You’re nothing but a number on a payslip given in the name of the minimum wage
The words of wisdom they spoke
Better to be sick and working than poor and broke
What’s the point in growing up? It’s time to act your age
Don’t turn to the clergy, don’t turn to organised religion
When the church door has been closed with lock and key
If you’re looking for solace in your fellow human
Now’s the time to drop the ten pound note for a shot of solidarity
Weights and measures, weekend pleasures, hidden treasures
It’s been too long
Interest rates mounting, advice from accounting, crying and shouting
It’s been too long
Too long, too long, far too long
Too long, too long, far too long
Did you imitate Cain and Abel to put food on the table
Starting at the grave and ending at the cradle
Stable living at the price of the thousands falling through the cracks
Paying off the jury, blood sweat and tears
Pound signs gleaming in the eyes of the overseers
Feeling the threat of the whip across your back
Nothing left to worry, nothing left to choose
Nothing, and when all’s said and done
Nothing left to lose
Rotten to the core, riven by disease
Learning how to walk again
From a life lived on my knees
Too long, too long, far too long
Too long, too long, far too long
There are plenty of traditional influences from his native Scotland in this, you can hear the bitterness of Dick Gaughan and the humour of Matt McGinn, but there is another edge evident in the single. Drawing from new influences in the world of hip-hop, Glasgow’s Darren McGarvey aka Loki, Belfast’s Jon Tsu and London’s Akala, Louis’ lyrics and musical delivery take on a new machine gun like delivery, dropping the buck squarely at the door of those who have left us in a situation that has brought to light the inherent inequality in the UK more than anything in this generation’s memory.
(Stream from Bandcamp. Business As Usual is available as a ‘Name Your Price’ download)
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