The Heavy Damage hit back with a bang.

People who follow this blog might remember that I previously posted about a Glaswegian hip hop group called the Heavy Damage. I was very much impressed with the track, and now there’s more for me to dribble over. It’s more funky, lyrically just as sharp, and has a properly old-school vibe. If you’re a fan of Mos Def, The Coup, Dead Prez or any of that kind of music, you’ll love this. Check it out and send some love to the band; they deserve it.

ATL to go on strike?

With the ongoing dispute regarding teachers’ pensions, the education unions are threatening industrial action in response to Government plans to make teachers pay more and receive less.

The thing that shocks me more than the callousness of Tory plans is the response it has elicited from the unions. Whilst the NUT have a reputation for being militant, and the NASUWT to a lesser extent, the ATL are known as a moderate union. For the ATL, this will be the first time since 1979 that they have balloted for a national strike. The ATL’s general secretary, Mary Bousted, says that members are furious that the Government neither consulted with the teachers, nor did they wait for Hutton report regarding teachers’ pensions.

The coalition government claim that these are necessary measures to curb the deficit. To me, this seems suspect; freezing wages and increasing employee pension contributions by 3.4% doesn’t target wasteful spending. On the contrary, it targets the hard-working teachers and the students. Many younger teachers will bear the full brunt of these measures – combined with lower wages and student loan payments, I fear many may give up the profession in search of better wages in other jobs or abandon the public sector in search of better pay from private schools.

So, why are these measures being enacted? It’s certainly not going to make any meaningful difference to the deficit – which, coincidentally, has increased under the ConDem coalition. I feel that these are the actions of a common pimp. After all, the first rule of pimping is “keep the ho broke”. The Government are desperate to prove that we, the workers, need them, and not the other way around, as the case is, and therein endeth the lesson.

Anyone excited about the Royal Wedding?

No, me neither.

The Heavy Damage let it loose.

Sometimes I listen to tracks and I think ‘that’s pretty cool dude’. Other times, I listen to them and don’t like it.

This particular track fits into it’s own category – it makes me go ‘OH SHI-’ and my brain ends up splattered on the wall.

Featuring truly revolutionary ideals, a funky laid back sound, seriously smooth flowing and some of the greatest rhyming couplets since Joe Strummer and vuh Clash, the Heavy Damage have unleashed a salvo of intense hip hop that is sure to continue once we’ve all recovered from the recoil of the buckshot.

TL;DR – just download the song and follow the band.

Marc Livingstone and the Communist Party against the cuts.

Marc says it like it is.

Revisiting the people’s music

A while ago I made a post lamenting the lack of social consciousness in the music of today. Whilst I wasn’t necessarily wrong, my focus was rather narrow; I didn’t think to provide a suitable solution or alternatives. So, today, I provide you with people who need to be listened to and brought out into the light from the grassroots campaigns with which they work.

RIP Smiley.

There is, without a doubt, many bands and artists I have missed here. It’s just a taster; go out and search for more, and bring me back some links when you find it!

Political Poetry – Volume 2

Civil War

The silent roar of traffic
Calms me, reminds me of home.
Memories of days spent
Waiting at grubby stations,
Always intrepidly moving on.

These heady days,
Fuelled by discovery,
Are replaced with introspective meditation.

Grubby trains became a single room,
Experiments with drugs transformed
Into philosophical debates between
Left and right hemispheres.

Out of this great change,
This internal revolution,
Steps forth a new leader.

From the hopes of the past
Comes the construction
of a new future.

Dreams

My spirit rises ever higher
And I can see the promised land.
My dreams -
Immortalised and crystallised -
Play out in front of me.

Unity and love
Running amok
And creating new worlds.

I put down a book by Marx
And look at the world.

Something’s gone wrong here.

Revolutionary

The bus judders onwards
Jolting me to and fro.
The ebb and flow of life
feels much the same
As my chosen chariot.

Familiar landmarks
Usher me to new experience.
Passing street lamps
Flicker on and off
Like fleeting interest.

But the flame of passion
Burns in my heart.
Consumed by hope
For a world built anew.
I am a vessel.

A vessel for new sounds,
A vessel for new flavours,
A vessel for new love,
A vessel for new ideas.
Truly Revolutionary.

Everything

There’s a phrase that I hold
Very close to my heart.
It goes something like this:
Everything for everyone,
And nothing for ourselves.

Zapata’s blood
was not spilled in vain.

El Vaquerito

There once was a soldier named Rob,
Who led Che’s suicide squad,
The enemy fired,
And there he died,
But El Vaquerito still won the war.

Soma

Minds wrapped in cellophane
Starved of oxygen, water,
Sterile and trained
To accept the given terms.
Fresh ink on a contract
and the child is born.
This one’s an Alpha;
She got lucky.
Next on the factory floor
is a row of Gammas.
Subservient drones,
They await their fix.

But one among them
won’t take the high,
Not satisfied with the normality
of mindless sexual gratification,
Not satisfied with serving
at the pleasure of the upper classes,
Nor exploiting the services
of the classes below.
Supposedly an Alpha,
Yet his contract his clean.
He was born to die, free.

I have many questions about this world;
The most pertinent being
‘Why me?’

A Scottish Play

Like pages torn from a book
They remain;
But not in my copy.
As I flick through the pages
I try to ignore the gaps.
But the censored acts,
Ghosts of fateful deeds,
Rattle chains and howl at me.

Stolen-
Or perhaps lost-
Hours come screaming
back through my mind.
House of horrors,
Replayed with the help
of booze, pills and nicotine.

Asleep, I rise,
Staggering as if
heavily dosed,
Screaming for that
which is lost,
which is taken,
which is killed.

Three witches cackle
But only in my head.
Hubble, bubble,
Toil and trouble …

All is fair in love and war.