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!"
Telling the story from our side of the pond, David Rovics took the stage after a brief intermission. Often described as following in the footsteps of 1960s folk hero Phil Ochs, Rovics' set was more low-key than Attila's, yet equally dissenting.

"We stand for freedom and prosperity/so we'll bomb your schools and hospitals," he sang in his usual sarcastic tone. In "Operation Iraqi Liberation," he asked of the song's title, "What does that stand for?" Rovics' gripping lyrics took no prisoners, as he continued with "Who would Jesus Bomb," singing "I don't think Jesus would give money to those dictators, or drive an SUV."

Rovics broke a guitar string during his fifth song, and invited Attila the Stockbroker to recite another poem while he repaired it. Unfortunately breaking the mood, Attila's "Effeneff" was a jab at popular music, complete with a Spice Girls parody in the chorus.

Re-introducing himself with everybody's favorite Monty Python quote, Rovics announced, "And now for something completely different," as he changed his performance's focus to environmental degradation.
"I wrote this song to see if we can get more frat boys to join the environmental movement," he said of "Alligator Song," a light-hearted ditty. Warning of the threats of pollution, the song was a throwback to Woodie Guthrie: "The alligator dicks are shriveling up/and it'll happen to you."

Toward the end of his set, Rovics drifted off into storytelling between songs, telling a familiar tale of Coca-Cola and the dangers of being a union organizer in Colombia. He also gave an account of a forgotten piece of American history, continuing with the song, "Saint Patrick Battalion." He sang, "From Dublin city to San Diego/we witnessed freedom denied/so we formed the Saint Patrick's Battalion/and fought on the Mexican side."

Telling of someone else whom the Mexican Zapatistas would have considered a "San Patricio," "The Death of Rachel Corrie" gave a riveting account of an American activist killed by the Israeli Army in Israel. Continuing with "Draft-dodger Rag," a Phil Ochs cover, Rovics sang, "I'm only 18, I've got a ruptured spleen, and I always carry a purse," reminding the crowd and himself that he still had a sense of humor.

After "Hiroshima," Rovics closed with the best two songs of the evening. For the first time, the hopeful "After the Revolution" finally gave answers to the many questions asked throughout the show. Ending with the a cappella "Behind the Barricades," Rovics looked over a silent Chum's as he sang, "As they're loading up the launchers/for the tear gas grenades/we can take off our bandanas/and kiss behind the barricades." It was the evening's most poignant moment, reminding us that at its simplest, revolution is essentially about love.