LYRIC: ANARCHOPHY
When I was 12 I was angry and bored
Found music by Green Day and Faith No More
It was different than other stuff hitherto heard
But the difference could not yet be put into words
Skip forward a year, 1995
A new album by Green Day comes into my life
I’m told “this is punk” and I dye my hair green
As I fumble my way into this revivified scene
Believe it or not it was on MTV
That I first saw a band called Dead Kennedys
Jello sang “Life Sentence” and my mind was blown
On Alternative Nation these first seeds were sown
I headed to Tempest and purchased a tape:
Give Me Convenience or Give Me Death my catalyst of fate
At first listen I wanted to take the thing back!
Not as tuneful as Green Day, I thought it was crap!
But the guy back at Tempest flat out said “no”
Said to “give it a chance”, said “let the sound grow”
And I already knew that the bastard was right
I’d been humming California Uber Alles all fucking night!
And the noise soon endeared the more that I’d hear
Graduating from Green Day I developed an ear
But the more that I listened the more questions I had:
Who were Reagan and Thatcher? Were they really this bad?
I caught up with the 80s in protest and rage
Ignorant to the incidents on which lyrics were based
Time to pick up a paper and read a few books
Look deep into places I had not before looked
The Cold War, The Contras, Zinn, Pilger and Chomsky
My political awakening soundtracked by fast punk beats
Freedom of style
Freedom of thought
Anarchist philosophies go from is to ought
This is the world
It ought not to be
A better way is possible
You’re not gonna stop me
Caught up to the 90s, new faces same villains
New modern excuses for old imperialist killings
It started with Dead Kennedys, it still hasn’t ended
Music and politics will forever be blended
The reading went on, from Sixth Form to Uni
I studied Politics alongside Philosophy
I now knew the players, I wanted the theories
The justification for a world so damn dreary
A nightmare so sickening and getting worse yearly
All while our leaders tell us we have to be cheery
I wanted to see why it was nothing changed
How identified problems continued to reign
And as the world progressed backwards and repressed ever faster
I accumulated degrees — first my bachelors then a masters
Through dissertation and thesis I sought for solution
A social and intellectual revolution
And yes, I delighted in the irony
When I secured government funding for my PhD
About anarchism as the only power structure that’s legitimate
A hundred thousand words and I think that I proved it
But what was the use of these writings on power
When locked in the basement of some old ivory tower?
I’d speak at a conference, argue with academics,
Who’d roll jaded eyes at my youthful polemics
Less interested in life than in words and their meaning
Reducing discussion to mere linguistic preening
I wanted the world to be changed by ideas
But it won’t ever happen if nobody hears
I thought of those records that started my path
And I left academia. I didn’t look back.
Freedom of style
Freedom of thought
Anarchist philosophies go from is to ought
This is the world
It ought not to be
A better way is possible
You’re not gonna stop me
Through all the years I kept all these notes
Poetry and prose for found and lost hope
It began as a kid in my ongoing journal
Poems and lyrics to make thoughts eternal
Diaries and blogs, novels and music
If I don’t jot it down I’m terrified I’d lose it
Embalming my thoughts: each sentence a snapshot
Some moments to be shared; some moments — perhaps not
But all of them part of an ongoing journey
Of trying to solve all the things that concern me
Political, personal, ancient or new
In writing I’m trying to unlock the truth
Been putting them in songs since Green Day’s “Insomniac”
I put down the guitar now and then but I keep coming back
Sometimes it’s punk rock, sometimes it’s hip-hop
What’s clear to me now is it’s not going to stop
So what is ANARCHOPHY? What does it mean?
This mixture of anarchy and philosophy?
To me it means freedom and an enquiring mind
Poking at pulling all of the lies that bind
Analysing even the most sacred cow
Speaking the thoughts they try not to allow
Questioning structures of authority
Calling bullshit on bullshit when bullshit I see
It’s a name for the thoughts I can’t not put in rhyme
All those burning questions I’ve asked for a very long time
It’s a 12 year old boy listening loudly to punk
It’s a PhD thesis that still no-one’s debunked
It’s having a voice and deciding to use it
It’s demanding the impossible all set to good music
Freedom of style
Freedom of thought
Anarchist philosophies go from is to ought
This is the world
It ought not to be
A better way is possible
You’re not gonna stop me