Thereâs another Royal rumble underway, and this time itâs Oprah Winfrey shaking down the Palace gates. The row between Buckingham Palace and dissident Royals the Duke and Duchess of Sussex â aka Meghan and Harry â continues to dominate the red tops and the trending bar. Meghan Markle has claimed she experienced racism within âThe Firmâ, as the Monarchy has become known, while theyâve alleged that she âbulliedâ Palace staff. Weird, because the Royal Family always seemed like such a healthy institutionâŠ
Anyway, itâs a grim state of affairs, no doubt, and one that has dragged the Monarchyâs reputation through the mud once again. But anti-Royal sentiment has long since coursed through British music, with treasonous protest songs doing brisk business around the 1977 Royal Jubilee (more of which later), highlighting a rich seam of inspiration that continued to produce great music into the independent â80s and, more recently, thanks to modern punk upstarts such as Slowthai and Bob Vylan.
Tear down that bunting and letâs have a look, shall we?
Manic Street Preachers, âRepeatâ (1992)
Back when Manics were subverting glam metal clichĂ©s for their own deliciously anti-establishment ends on explosive debut album âGeneration Terroristsâ, they took aim at the Windsors with a crunching, riff-tastic monster that dubbed the Royals âimitation demi-godsâ and their supporters âdumb flag scumâ. Grab your megaphone and get in the car â weâre off to do donuts around Buckingham Palace.
Crowning lyric: âRepeat after me / ‘Fuck Queen and country’â
Bob Vylan, âEnglandâs Endingâ (2020)
A general lament about the state of an Empire-obsessed nation that, in the wake of Brexit and amid soaring coronavirus cases, foreign newspapers nicknamed âPlague Islandâ, this bassy, punk-rap grinder sees London punk Bobby Vylan mutter, âkillâ the fucking Queenâ, before snarling through a litany of modern ills, from stop-and-search to the housing crisis. The songâs most controversial line was clearly not to be taken seriously, but did prove that punk still harnessed the power to shock in 2020.
Crowning lyric: âThis country’s in dire need of a fucking spanking, mateâ
Paul Heaton and Jacqui Abbott, âHeatongradâ (2015)
Similarly, this rollicking track finds the King and Queen of British alternative pop sneering at the establishment â the Army, the Government, ladsâ mags, Richard Branson; you name it â though the musical backdrop of knockabout rockabilly guitar suggests they have their tongues even further in their cheeks than Vylan.
Crowning lyric: âFuck the king and fuck the Queenâ
The Stone Roses, âElizabeth My Dearâ (1989)Â
These days Ian Brownâs probably too busy arguing with a biological disaster to get too riled up by a little thing like the Monarchy, but here he makes his point with uncharacteristic subtlety, crooning his resistance over soothing, arpeggiated guitar. The ditty lasts only 53 seconds and sounds like an ancient folk song; the effect is weird and otherworldly, as if heâs in dialogue with centuries of sorrow and discontent.
Crowning lyric: âIâll not rest / ‘Tll sheâs lost her throneâ
The Smiths, âThe Queen Is Deadâ (1986)
Ah, another righteous â80s indie hero who turned out to be a wrongun. The title track to Moz and the gangâs classic 1986 album is one of the quintessential anti-Monarchy tunes, the singer conjuring a fabulously camp tale in which he breaks into the palace âwith a sponge and rusty spannerâ, only to learn â shock horror! â thatâs he âthe 18th pale descendant of some old Queen or otherâ. Far from a mere flight of fancy, itâs actually based on the real-life story of average joe Michael Fagan, who did indeed hop over the Palace gates and let himself into the Queenâs bedroom in 1982, as depicted in the recent series of The Crown.
Crowning lyric: “I say, Charles, don’t you ever crave / To appear on the front of The Daily Mail / Dressed in your Mother’s bridal veil?”
Suzanne Vega, âThe Queen and the Soldierâ (1985)
On this thoughtful, meditative acoustic guitar ballad, Californian singer-songwriter Suzanne Vega draws a nuanced portrait of a solider who begins to question his allegiance to Queen and country, a doubt that creeps up on him like that of a religious person beginning to lose faith. Vegaâs soldier confronts the Queen directly, telling that her heâd rather taste freedom outside the establishment: âYour Highness, your ways are very strange.â Reader, it does not end well for him.
Crowning lyric: âThe soldier came knocking upon the Queen’s door / He said, “I am not fighting for you any more”
The Sex Pistols, âGod Save The Queenâ (1997)
Ah yes, weâre back to the Royal Jubilee of 1977. Itâs hard to imagine, in our enlightened times, the hullabaloo that twinkly eyed punk Svengali Malcolm McLaren kicked up when he had his Sex Pistols board a boat on the Thames and play a punk rock rager to wreck the Queenâs Silver Jubilee celebrations (they were arrested a few songs in). The BBC refused to spin it, but that didnât stop the song from reaching Number One on the much more important NME chart.
Crowning lyric: âGod save the Queen / She ainât no human beingâ
Slowthai, âNothing Great About Britainâ (2020)Â
âHand on my heart / I swear Iâm proud to be Britishâ, British-Bajan punk-rapper Slowthai rapper insists on the opening title track to his incendiary 2019 debut album, a statement that encompasses his complexities and contradictions. Throughout the album, the Northampton-based artist explores his love for a country that treats him â a working-class, mixed race citizen â as an outsider, and the frustrations that this breeds. Like Moz, he imagines himself breaking into the Queenâs gaff, but this time heâs swigging âa bottle of Bucky in Buckingham Palaceâ, beguiled and repulsed by the opulence it represents.
Crowning lyric: âI will treat you with the utmost respect / Only if you respect me a little bit, Elizabeth⊠you cuntâ
Pet Shop Boys, âDreaming of the Queenâ (1993)Â
With its tasteful washes of synth, this is an aural pastel portrait in which frontman Neil Tennant dreams of an encounter with the Monarch and Princess Diana. Here, the figurehead merely seems stuffy and out of touch â âThe Queen said, “I’m aghast / Love never seems to lastâ â and itâs been suggested that the song is an allegory about different generationsâ attitudes to the AIDS crisis.
Crowning lyric: âI was in the nude / The old Queen disapprovedâ
Blur, âThis Is A Lowâ (1994)
As with Paul Heaton and Jacqui Abbott and Bob Vylanâs contributions to the canon, this understated, melancholy tune sees Damon and the lads shake their heads at the sorry state of the country they call home, the Queen a symbol for cultural stasis and inequality. You sort of figure Prince Harry was always more into Blur than Oasis, donât you?
Crowning lyric: âAnd the Queen, she’s gone round the bend / Jumped off Land’s Endâ
The post God Save the Queen: the best anti-Monarchy songs appeared first on NME.
