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Week of

Political punk and poetry at Chum's

by Jon Fischer

Arts | 3/23/04
Posted online at 1:48 AM EST on 3/23/04

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Songs, poems and tales of revolution characterized Friday evening at Cholmondeley's, when American singer-songwriter David Rovics and British comedic poet and musician Attila the Stockbroker, hosted by the Radical Student Alliance, played for a small, yet energetic crowd.

A staple of the English punk rock scene since 1979, Attila the Stockbroker opened the evening with a set of his unique poems, beginning with "My Poetic License." It was an expletive-heavy mission statement outlining his distinctive combination of dizzying raps and punk aesthetics. Lines like "D.I.Y. from here to eternity," "Bollocks to TV, this is live as hell," and "Welcome to my wild, poetic journey" were at times overwhelming, especially from a middle-aged punk, but it seemed that

Attila's brand of humor and poetry could only be taken by the mouthful.
Continuing with "Asylum Seeking Daleks," Attila used characters and imagery from Dr. Who to condemn xenophobia and right-wing press in the UK. "The Bible According to Rupert Murdoch" echoed the same theme, painting a bleak picture of the politics of media consolidation in both the United States and Britain.

This was only part of the larger portrait; the subjects of Attila's raps ranged from the threats of globalization, capitalism, nationalism and militarism to issues like wage-slavery and the corporatization of beauty.
"They'll sell you arms then bomb you flat," he warned in "The New World Order Rap," his denouncement of Tony Blair and English participation in the war in Iraq.

For the second half of his set, Attila picked up a traditional lute, acoustically deconstructing a number of songs by his band Barnstormer. He sang like a renaissance punk-rock minstrel with the voice and anger of The Clash's Joe Strummer, beginning with "Death of a Salesman." He reflected on the day Parliament voted to join the U.S.-led coalition in Iraq in "Guy Fawkes' Table." Explaining that it was written in a bar in Northern England, the song was a fitting pub anthem, summing up his disenchantment as he screamed, "New Labour, just fuck off and die!"
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