Mining soul deep A lesson in history Michelle Charlton Twenty five years ago, battle was joined between Britain’s miners and Margaret Thatcher’s government. On 12 March 1984 the National Union of Mineworkers began a strike against Coal Board plans to close scores of pits alleged to be uneconomic. The titanic struggle that ensued saw a widespread movement in support of the mining communities’ fight—and some of that movement took musical form. The strike got underway in a busy period for the Style Council, the band formed by Paul Weller, after splitting up The Jam at the height of its success, with Mick Talbot and a transient mix of other musicians. Their first British tour started just as the miners’ strike did, with their debut album Café Bleu released days later. Their path crossed with the strike when their tour bus was stopped by police on the hunt for flying pickets.1 Their next single, in May, was ‘You’re The Best Thing’, but was released as a double A side with a new song, ‘The Big Boss Groove’. Its call to break with the capitalist way of seeing things—to “step outside the big boss groove”—chimed well with the spirit of the strike: Get up is what we say And don’t wait for judgement day There’s too much going on You may think you’re weak but together we could be so strong In July the Style Council headlined a benefit gig for the miners in Liverpool where £3,000 was raised.2 An even bigger one followed at London’s Royal Festival Hall in September where they shared the stage, not only with the alternative comedians of the day, but with Wham! The appearance of George Michael’s pop group at a miners’ benefit has bemused and amused ever since, but it shouldn’t. In their early days the Style Council and Wham! recorded in studios close to each other, and Dee C Lee sang with both bands before becoming a permanent Style Councillor. Wham!’s early music did have a rebellious streak in amongst its poppiness, an urban image of refusing to get a job and conform. Above all, the fact that a band that had gone totally disposable months before (with the truly awful ‘Wake Me Up Before You Go Go’) still wanted to show their support for the strikers underlines how deep the urge for solidarity went. This was a truly popular cause that didn’t just mobilise worthy lefties stroking their chins to meaningful lyrical juxtapositions, but reached out to teenage pop fans too. Anyone organising a strike benefit today should jump at the chance of having, say, Girls Aloud on the bill, rather than massaging artistic integrities with lesser-known acts. The politics of the next Style Council single, ‘Shout to the Top!’, often escape listeners to this day. But those who missed its message to answer personal adversity with political revolt were left in no doubt by the promotion. The video featured the band performing in front of a wall painting of the miners’ strike. Adverts announced the single in no uncertain terms: “Make no mistake / this is all class war / fight back / Shout to the Top!”3 It seemed logical to release a single directly in support of the miners’ strike. The year before, Weller had donated his royalties from the single ‘Money-Go-Round’ to Youth CND, a cause always close to the band’s hearts. Their A&R man recalls a meeting “to discuss the 1 next Council single and I could see he [Weller] was clearly moved by the plight of the miners and their families. He decided that rather than just offer money, he would write and record a song about the dispute and donate the royalties to the suffering families.”4 By now, it was clear that the strike would be long and drawn-out, and the realisation that thousands in mining communities faced a bleak Christmas galvanised people to do their bit. The net was cast a bit wider than the Style Council itself. The Council Collective, as the ensemble was called, brought in people they had worked with before—Dee C Lee and rapper Dizzy Hites—alongside bassist Leonardo Chignoli and Vaughn Toulouse rapping, as well as two quite high profile vocalists. Junior Giscombe had hit the charts with ‘Mama Used to Say’ two years earlier, seeming to herald a new black British soul before his career inexplicably stalled. Jimmy Ruffin, a miner’s son himself, was a Motown veteran most famous for the 1966 standard ‘What Becomes of the Broken Hearted?’ They recorded ‘Soul Deep’ on the weekend of 22-23 September: music on the Saturday, vocals on the Sunday. Right from the first verse, the lyrics pulled no punches: Getcha mining soul deep with a lesson in history There’s people fighting for their communities Don’t say this struggle does not involve you If you’re from the working class this is your struggle too The speed with which the single had to be put together inevitably meant that the lyrics were rushed, and in places it shows. For instance, “If they spent more on life as they do on death / We might find the money to make industry progress” is another example of Weller’s opposition to the arms race, but the sense of the line was sacrificed somewhat to fit the tune. Strangely enough, the strike is referred to as “Going on ten months now—will it take another ten?” But the strike was only six months old when this was recorded, and it was due to be released some time in its ninth month. ‘Eight’ or ‘nine’ are hardly difficult words to find a rhyme for, but Weller must have stuck with ‘ten’ purely because it rhymed with “Just living on the breadline with what some people send”. However, given the haste of its composition, and the fact that a song written for a collective can’t really express the writer’s personal feelings, it does have some very nice touches. “There’s mud in the water, there’s lies on the page” conveys that year’s images of muddy pickets defying riot shields, but also the deliberate media campaign to muddy the waters of the debate. “No pit stops, no closures” simply but originally broadens the meaning of the commonplace motor racing phrase. But the lyrics’ greatest achievement was to confront the difficult big question that the strike was posing. After so long on strike in so just a cause, how come the miners weren’t winning? A couple of weeks before ‘Soul Deep’ was recorded, the Trades Union Congress had met and pledged full support to the NUM, asking unions to boycott all coal and any fuels used to replace coal. If this were implemented—and plenty of workers would have responded to the call—it would have closed Britain’s power stations and ground industry to a halt, forcing the government to give way. Weller was quick enough to realise that the resolutions were unlikely to mean much. “Just where is the backing from the TUC?” asked the second verse, “’Cause if we ain’t united there can only be defeat”. Jimmy Ruffin’s knowledge of bitter battles fought by black miners in the US gave added point to the verse he sang: Think of all those brave men, women and children alike Who built up unions so others might survive In better conditions than abject misery Not supporting the miners is to betray that legacy “But as for solidarity, I don’t see none”, bemoaned the last line of the chorus. “The whole 2 record is about Solidarity,” explained Weller, “or more to the point, getting it back!”5 Musically, ‘Soul Deep’ is a fine example of mid-1980s dance music. Although Weller had produced the last Style Council single himself, he brought in Martyn Ware of Heaven 17, acknowledged masters of dance electronica, to mix the single. Bert Bevans (not yet the superstar DJ he was to become at Ministry of Sound) made a ‘Club Mix’ which is funkier and blacker: Weller’s vocals were replaced by Ruffin and Junior, meaning that only black vocalists can be heard on this version. At over six minutes, the track was too long for a single, and so—in time-honoured disco fashion—it was split in two, Part 2 going on the B side. The 12” single featured a full version on the A side, with a fairly unique B side. ‘A Miner’s Point’ was a 17 minute interview with two striking Nottinghamshire miners by Paolo Hewitt, the music journalist who wrote Style Council sleeve notes in the guise of ‘The Cappuccino Kid’ (although getting anyone to admit this open secret is like getting Gerry Adams to say he was in the IRA). The miners, Bob and Chris, tell us they have been out on strike for eight and a half months, so the interview would have taken place around late November, close enough to the single’s release date— which may explain the uneven sound quality. But even twenty five years later, ‘A Miner’s Point’ gives a great insight into the issues of the strike and the beliefs that motivated strikers. Chris, mining since 1980, sounds like a good example of the militant younger miners who powered the strike on the ground, though Bob, with thirty years down the pit, is no moderate either. This is no ordinary strike, insists Chris, but “a class war”, Bob having taken the words out of his mouth.