Rick Buckler died last week. If you’re of my generation, you might know him as the drummer from The Jam. For young people, he played the drums on the theme tune from satirical TV show Mock the Week.
The song News of the World is a stinging criticism of the tabloid media. The opening sample – “Power, power, pop, pop” calls out the dumbing down of news. It’s not often a post-punk pop is associated with an admonishment to think critically. “Don't believe it all. Find out for yourself. Check before you spread. News of the World.”
Paul Weller and Rick Buckler started The Jam while at school. After a few early try outs with other musicians – including Gary Numan – they settled on a 3 piece, with Bruce Foxton on bass guitar. Weller had started on bass, and persuaded Foxton to swap with him. Foxton’s early years covering Motown and Chuck Berry on rhythm guitar influenced their sound. That thrumming melodic bass in the foreground.
Music cuts through in ways that prose can’t. “We want listeners to hum the tune before letting the power of the words sink in,” said Weller. Their sound is distinctive. As Buckler said, “being a 3 piece band made each of us work harder. The arrangements, playing live. I like the energy that came from that, the fast rock and roll.”
He’s not wrong. You can find YouTube videos of them playing live at Newcastle City Hall in 1980. The sound that three lads can knock out is amazing. These boys could play.
Buckler’s percussion is prominent. In sections of Town Called Malice it seems the percussion is carrying the melody. “I was self-taught. I’d watch other drummers, and just listen to records.” Rejected by Decca Records, they honed their skills playing the clubs for little more than petrol money. “We wanted to get away from playing covers, and form our own identity.”
The Jam went on a political journey as well as a musical one. The late 70’s has parallels with today. Economic malaise. Anti-immigrant scapegoating and overtly racist bile is once again inciting violence.
1977’s Time for Truth is an anti-authoritarian protest against the death of Liddle Towers in police custody in Gateshead. February 1978 saw the release of News of the World.
October 1978’s Down in the Tube Station at Midnight is a haunting narrative of racist violence. To my mind it is still one of the most lyrically powerful songs I’ve ever heard. The details, the first person perspective. If you’re not familiar with it, it’s on YouTube.
Thatcher’s election in May 1979 gave them a more political focus. Weller explained the genesis of October 1979’s Eton Rifles. “I saw this footage of a Right To Work march going past Eton, where all the kids from the school came outside and started jeering at the marchers. Growing up in Woking, you were aware that the school was nearby and these kids were being taught how to fire guns. It seemed crazy – a very militaristic view of education.”
Decades later, Eton educated David Cameron cited it as a favourite song. “Which part of it didn’t he get?” asked Weller in an interview.
By 1980 Thatcherite economics bit hard. The lack of trust in politicians underpins March 1980’s Going Underground. “You choose your leaders and place your trust, as their lies wash you down and their promises rust.” Sound like the Tyne Bridge. “You’ll see kidney machines replaced by rockets and guns” could describe Labour’s decision to eviscerate the aid budget to fund military spending and bring PFI back to the health service.
The lyrics are precise. Verse one has, “And the public gets what the public wants.” By verse two it has inverted to “And the public wants what the public gets,” a commentary on political propaganda.
The Jam weren’t to last long. Weller felt it was time to change direction. As he said recently, “People say, ‘Why don’t you write any more political songs?’ But I would just write exactly the same f**king things I wrote thirty-odd years ago. Nothing’s really changed, has it?”
February 1982’s Town Called Malice went double platinum. With an infectious Motown bass riff and vast array of percussion sounds coming from Buckler’s drum kit, it is a real foot tapper.
The original 7” single shows rundown houses through prison-like bars. Buckler took the picture when touring in northern England. "It just captured the sentiment, so we used it on the sleeve. We thought a lot about these details."
The lyrics contrast with the music. Financial pressures chill family relationships. Childhoods suppressed like lost laughter in the breeze. “A whole street's belief in Sunday's roast beef gets dashed against the Co-op.” Struggle after struggle. Year after year.
Town Called Malice articulates my political ethos. The crushing oppression caused by austerity, profiteering, financialisation, and wealth extraction. I can articulate the economics, the modern monetary theory, and how a better world is possible. But I’ll never match the poetry.
As the song says, “I could go on for hours, and I probably will, but I’d sooner put some joy back in this town called Malice.”
Rick Buckler in September 1979