NEVER HAD IT SO BAD OR GOOD

The death of Sid Vicious in early February 1979 was remembered in both The Observer and on Radio 4 this week. In the newspaper's "Music Monthly", the Sex Pistol member is described by John Savage as "punk's ultimate nihilistic icon", and by a friend from contemporary girl band, called "The Slits", as someone who wet the bed at night with almost "pure Newcastle Brown" urine. Before his own untimely death from a heroine overdose, Sid Vicious (real name John Beverley) had accidentally stabbed and killed his girl friend, Nancy Spungeon.

In a previous edition of The Observer (Main Section), the columnist Peter Oborne described the second half of the 1970s as an "interregnum" between a 30 year period of post-war consensus politics from 1945 to the mid-1970s, and the arrival of Thatcherism and then New Labour. This "interregnum" was, I recall, an extremely difficult time for many people whose economic situation and prospects were at best uncertain, and, at worst, in terminal decline. The rise of Punk Rock co-incided with this period, and struck a cord with many young people, including me.

I was largely rescued from a bad bout of depression and an equally strong sense of personal fatality, by a better than expected set of "O Levels" (the exams which preceded GCSEs) in 1978. Thus my own "Winter of Discontent" had become something of a glorious Autumn by 1979 when I "won" a place to read English Language and Literature at Oxford. Nevertheless, it took me some time - perhaps another generation even - to overcome the sense of guilt which came with this achievement.

Yet the personal legacy of Punk Rock and my Oxford eduction has been, in reality, closely allied. I remain to this day skeptical of both the "power structures" that operate withing society and the intellectual constructs which go with these. Thus I have never been able to buy into the New Labour Project, for instance, as something itself born of a too comfortable alliance between "Children of the 6os" like Tony Blair, 1980s student politics and the dreaded brood of Think Tanks to which these have given rise. Roll on the next Interregnum.

The Suicide Files@Dark Lyrics

I've discovered the following verses on the web under "The Suicide Files" and "Dark Lyrics". Not sure of their origin (directions welcome), but they they perhaps express sentiments meaningful to an increasing number of young people out there. Maybe some food for thought for politicians returning to earth following exclusion from high office....

The Edge Of Town
The Cul-de-sac jungle is a cruel place.
It's a living rotting failure from a different age.
And if you're looking for the place that dreams go to die,
it's not in the city it's around the outside.
You can mortgage your future for subleached purity
and accept the sterility in exchange for security,
but no matter how many times you run from your fears
the same problems always re-appear.
Day after day it's all just decay,
and the promised land just gets further away.
On these dead lawns lie your father's dreams.
White flight. White blight. White screams.
On these dead lawns lie your mother's dreams

Rum, Romanism and Tammany
Idealism is fucking dead.
Laughed off the stage at countless conventions.
Laissez faire is en vogue again.
It's silver tongue has been heaven sent.
One man, one vote, throw it away.
One land, one hope, throw it away.
When every candidate looks the same, born of noble blood.
So don't fucking talk to me about our tradition of democracy.
Who the fuck am I supposed to believe in?

Darkness on the Edge of Town
by Bruce Springsteen

They're still racing out at the Trestles
But that blood it never burned in her veins
Now I hear she's got a house up on Fairview
And a style she's trying to maintain
Well if she wants to see me
You can tell her that I'm easily found
Tell her there's a spot out 'neath Abram's Bridge
And tell her, there's a darkness on the edge of town

Everybody's got a secret, Sonny
Something that they just can't face
Some folks spend their whole lives trying to keep it
They carry it with them every step that they take
Till some day they just cut it loose
Cut it loose or let it drag 'em down
Where no one asks any questions, or looks too long in your face
In the darkness on the edge of town

Some folks are born into a good life
Other folks get it anyway, anyhow
I lost my money and I lost my wife
Them things don't seem to matter much to me now
Tonight I'll be on that hill 'cause I can't stop
I'll be on that hill with everything I got
Lives on the line where dreams are found and lost
I'll be there on time and I'll pay the cost
For wanting things that can only be found
In the darkness on the edge of town