70s Rock Contra Capitalism:Four Perspectives.

I have never had any interest in the latest music or fashions. This fact could be due either to some inherent reactionary predisposition, or, alternatively, due to my growing up in a family where my father held absolute authority over the music on car journeys — his motto was “it’s my music or no music”. As a result, I grew up listening almost exclusively to “dad rock” with all the classics one might expect. As I grew older my tastes began to expand as I started to listen to different music, primarily still within the rock genre.

It's a common trope in the hearts and minds of reactionaries to say that everything is getting worse all the time. In the case of music, I think this is certainly a worthy observation. This is not to say that there are no talented musicians out there today, but rather, that popular artists increasingly look like little more than clowns in the elite-provided circuses. Does anyone seriously believe that Drake has more musical talent than George Harrison?

Thematically and lyrically songs are degenerating, the reading level necessary to understand modern popular music is lower than it was in the 60s and 70s, and continues to degenerate year on year. Of course, there have always been simple and ‘catchy’ songs, but, at the same time, there were still substantive messages even within the lyrics of these songs.

The other day while listening to the Spotify recommended “Rock Playlist” a sequence of songs came up which seeded the idea for this article. “Working Man” by Rush came first, then “Peace of Mind” by Boston, followed by “Welcome to the Machine” by Pink Floyd, and finishing with “The River” by Bruce Springsteen. These few songs have a similar theme, each in their own way critique the capitalist working structure which was particularly dominant in America.

‘Working Man’ by Rush is not so much a detailed and lengthy critique of the system as much as it is an exercise in showcasing the band’s musical ability on their debut album. The song comes in at a little over 7 minutes long. Despite its length there are only 2 verses, a pre-chorus, and a chorus, filling in the time with extravagant instrumentals and a lengthy guitar solo by Alex Lifeson. Nevertheless, in its few lines the song does manage to touch on a very important theme, i.e., the link between work and identity.

The protagonist of the song has nothing going on in his life other than work “I got no time for livin’ / Yes, I’m workin’ all the time”. This has disastrous consequences for the rest of his life, and he wonders what he’s doing with his life “Always seem to be wond'rin' / Why there's nothin' goin' down here". Due to the lack of any substance to his life outside work, the protagonist accepts that his identity has simply morphed into his work claiming, “I guess that’s why they call me / They call me the workin’ man”.

This is the sad state of affairs in which we find ourselves in modernity. The political debate, particularly in Ireland, is centred around the identity of the “working man.” Varadkar himself has proclaimed he wants to represent “people who get up early in the morning”. There is never a discussion around the devastating effects that the production and consumption focused economic system is having on the soul of the average man. Productivity has grown every decade since the 1950s, however, with inflating house-prices, and subpar public services, one wonders where all the fruits of this productivity are going.

To compensate for having nothing in life other than work, the protagonist of the song dulls himself after work with alcohol, “So I get home at five o'clock / And I take myself out an ice cold beer”. The free time he has after work, rather than being spent on his passions, or anything which might require extra effort such as practicing an instrument or reading, takes on the form of anaesthesia. This phenomenon is unfortunately, far too common in modernity. In days gone by, work was done in order to maximise free time, when a farmer had an excess of grain, he could sell on this excess so that he could work less in the coming weeks and spend more time on family or his passions.

Contrarily, today, free time has taken on this anaesthetic form so that someone can work more. Any free time — away from work — exists solely to rest themselves, so that, when it is time for work, they are rested and can be more productive. The average worker comes home after a long day and has no energy or time for developing himself or acquiring extra skills, but instead, sits in front of a screen and passes the time watching Netflix or playing video games — activity which provides the illusion of progression as you gain levels or points.

An alternative view of the capitalist working environment, and indeed the importance of free time is given in the song “Peace of Mind” by Boston. This song comes in as the second track from their eponymous debut album behind the rock classic “More than a Feeling”. Before delving into the song, some backstory regarding the band and their leader Tom Scholz is required. Scholz was an MIT-trained engineer, receiving a master’s degree in mechanical engineering, and then going on to work as a senior product design engineer at Polaroid. In Scholz free time away from work he built a recording studio in the basement of his home in the early 70s. For the next 6 years Scholz built his recording studio and began recording songs and sending them to record labels, in the hope of receiving a recording contract. While the debut album would come out in 1976, most of the songs had been recorded years earlier by Scholz.

Scholz was a perfectionist who spent years on each song ensuring their perfection, and refused to let anyone else near his music. When it came time to create the first album Scholz mixed the album in his basement studio by himself against the wishes of the record label who wanted it done in a proper recording studio. In an elaborate ruse, the rest of the band including a mixer were sent to California to pretend they were working on the album, meanwhile Scholz recorded all instruments and tracks at home apart from the drums and lyrics. Scholz seems to have had an inherent distrust of the capitalist class and their uncaring attitude towards art, he wanted to create the art himself rather than some uncaring record labels producing it for the sake of making money. These feelings — among others — are demonstrated on this track.

The lyrics behind Peace of Mind were inspired by Scholz’ time at Polaroid, detailing both his and his colleagues’ outlook towards work. For Scholz, work was what he did so that he could afford all his musical equipment, and provide himself free time to work on his music. Contrarily, his colleagues only saw work as the corporate rat race always scheming, finding any way to climb the company ladder. The chorus perfectly encapsulates this “I understand about indecision / But I don't care if I get behind / People living in competition / All I want is to have my peace of mind”. Having his “peace of mind” and enjoying himself is more important than getting ahead and working more. Scholz found the perfect balance between his work life and his free time, he’s happy where he is and doesn’t want anything more.

In fact, Scholz laments the attitudes of his colleagues and offers them a warning “Now you're climbing to the top of the company ladder / Hope it doesn't take too long / Can't you see there'll come a day when it won't matter / Come a day when you'll be gone”. Scholz pleads for his colleagues, and indeed anyone who finds themselves caught up in the rat race to “Take a look ahead” and see that there are some things in life more important than work. This contrasts well with “Working Man” and perhaps if he took a look ahead he might fix his work/life balance and become something other than the working man.

This is a nice ideal sentiment, but due to infinite growth delusion of modern capitalism, this is becoming more and more of a pipe dream. Indeed, capitalism provides us with cheaper and cheaper goods and services, but at the same time, we see the essentials skyrocket in price. Housing, especially in this country, is something most young men cannot even dream of. The hopes of starting a family and owning a home are beyond the immediate grasp of the majority of young people in Ireland.

The idea of a single-family home has long been abandoned by the capitalist structure which seeks to reduce everyone to ‘homo economicus’, a fledgling mass of producers and consumers who constantly feed the growth delusion. Moreover, this incentivises the worst behaviours in the populace, as everyone fights against each other, everyone has been dehumanised, it is no longer a fellow countryman you are working with, but a competitor.

The office environment is especially full of backstabbers, fake sincerity, and hollow conversation. To get ahead in the company and climb the ladder everyone is involved in a big façade, there is no authenticity to most interactions, everything is seen through the lens of climbing the ladder and scheming, planning, and calculating against your colleagues. “Lots of people have to make believe they're livin' / Can't decide who they should be”. To compensate for this dehumanising environment, workers have to make believe they’re living, that two weeks holiday every summer makes up for the other 50 weeks of the year.

Everyone has become a cog in the machine of the capitalist engine. As they climb the ladder, they ascend the ranks to become a more important component of the same engine. Upon arrival they are told “Welcome to the Machine” — the second track off Pink Floyd’s 1975 record “Wish You Were Here”. This track highlights the almost production-line nature of record labels, as music became more and more popular, as new talent is spotted and watched before being controlled by their label. This theme is popular to Pink Floyd, with “Have a Cigar” off the same album sharing a similar tone, as well as the entirety of “The Wall” record detailing the isolating nature of this process. Moreover, the song criticises the fact that the higher ups of the record label are the ones making most of the money off the hard work of the artists, skimming off the top while providing little value to the product itself.

As is common for Pink Floyd the song is a lengthy track filled with synthesisers and other instrumentation, which back up short but direct and penetrating lyrics. Composing only two verses the song highlights the lies told to workers by the higher ups about all their successes if they only sell their souls to the machine. The capitalist fills in conversation with rhetorical small talk “Where have you been? / It's alright, we know where you've been / You've been in the pipeline, filling in time”, highlighting the uncaring and aloof nature of the capitalist class. He pretends to care at first about the artist or his life but already knows where he’s been — he knows the artist has been working his way up and is now “provided with toys”.

 Further on in the song the capitalist demonstrates his control over the music industry. This was an agency where agencies such as the CIA and the Tavistock Group controlled certain acts, told them what to do, what to wear, what music to play, and how to act. This then inspired the next generation who enter the industry influenced by the previous (controlled) stars, and then go on to be controlled themselves “What did you dream? / It's alright, we told you what to dream”.

This cycle will continue, as the new music star is promised the world, all the fancy, shiny material goods he wishes, the lavish lifestyle, the drugs, sex, and rock and roll lifestyle, but the catch is, you must sell yourself and become a cog in the machine. “You dreamed of a big star / He played a mean guitar / He always ate in the Steak Bar / He loved to drive in his Jaguar”. The song closes with the ominous congratulatory line “So welcome to the machine”.

What happens to these cogs in the machine? Once they are no longer useful or helpful to the machine they are merely discarded. They are left fameless, moneyless, and soulless, a debilitating trifecta to the once famous or materially wealthy star who had become accustomed to the “good life”. If only he had looked ahead and realised there was more to life than the material benefits and had instead sought his “peace of mind”.

“The River” by Bruce Springsteen illustrates this left-behind feeling. Unlike the music star who had a taste of the good life, this song deals with the forgotten working-or-middle class small-town Americans who had their lives destroyed by capitalist offshoring. As with most Springsteen songs, the common themes are there; the girl; the car; the escapism; the nostalgia; all encapsulated with poetically dense storytelling aided by his musical talent.

Springsteen’s inspiration for the song is quite personal as it details the story of his younger sister and her husband. In short, the song illustrates the life of a young man who gets his high school girlfriend pregnant, then rushes into marriage and employment to provide for her and his child, but is then struck down by economic collapse and falls into a depressive state, constantly looking back to the ‘glory days’. That said, there is much more that can be drawn from the lyrics than merely this short story.

The song was originally recorded in late 1979, but the events influencing the story occurred in the late 60s and early 70s— the economic downturn of 1973 in particular. During this year the US economy was hit with stagflation, denoting simultaneous high unemployment and high inflation. The song in itself is not any direct critique of capitalism, but the world in which his characters live is moulded by its existence within the US capitalist system. All the accompanying hardship and delusions associated are inextricably linked with the “American dream” zeitgeist of the post-war US society.

 The song begins with an emotional harmonica before flooding into the first verse which describes the ancestral and hereditary employment of the town “I come from down in the valley / Where, mister, when you're young / They bring you up to do / Like your daddy done”. It’s a simple rural town, you take over the job of your father and you stay within the same town for life— this was the usual mode of being for most of human history.

However, growing up in the 50s and 60s Springsteen was heavily influenced by the Americana of nostalgia for frontier exploration, which was then seeing a resurgence in the American psyche. A predominant theme in Springsteen lyrics is moving out of the small town, onto bigger and better things. This is the essence of the capitalist American dream mentality, if you just forfeit any sense of belonging, community, tradition, or loyalty you will become materially wealthy. However, there is a reason it is called the “American dream” — because you’d have to be asleep to still believe it. In the days of the wild west the idea held some Faustian appeal, but in the modern world — heavily shaped by this new rootless cosmopolitan capitalism — this ideal has long been thrown out.

Springsteen’s desire to critique the system within which he grew up, by referencing back to the “glory days” is unfortunately myopic. Springsteen seems completely unaware that the boom-bust cycle is a deliberately manufactured feature of the system, and not a mere bug. His desire to escape the small town and move into the big city, where things are better and wealthier, is ignorant of the fact that the same pressures and anxieties regarding your station in life are compounded in the city,but, in the city you are atomised and isolated, there is no community support system available.

Throughout the song Springsteen uses the recurring imagery of “The River”. The river brings new and greater things as it keeps on flowing and, moreover, the river represents the idea of escapism as he and his girlfriend “go down to the river / And into the river we'd dive”. After getting his girlfriend pregnant the young protagonist of the song is suddenly forced to grow up and grow up fast, “for my nineteenth birthday / I got a union card and a wedding coat”. Rather than the splendour of a grand wedding the protagonist is forced into a quick shotgun style marriage which occurs at the courthouse, and for their honeymoon the newlyweds returned to the river “That night we went down to the river”.

The river again represents the bond between the couple, the place where they can escape to. It can be envisioned that as the river keeps on flowing it represents time itself — moving on, and coming to fruition — it can represent their past, present, and future. Rivers have featured throughout Western poetry and storytelling as a source of life as the lands around a river are quite arable and are usually a good location to start a society.

Due to his circumstances, the young man, not yet finished high school, takes a job working construction to provide for his family. However, as aforementioned, the US economy took a major hit in the early 70s destroying these working industrial towns, as jobs were offshored by the capitalist elite in search of cheaper workers and greater profits. The decimation this leaves behind is not only the material, but the immaterial, the destruction of those metaphysical, intangible elements which make life worth living, happiness, love, and family. “But lately there ain't been much work / On account of the economy / Now all them things that seemed so important / Well, mister, they vanished right into the air / Now I just act like I don't remember / And Mary acts like she don't care” —  the economic consequences are spilling over into their relationship, and disrupting what in previous ages may have been a loving and fruitful marriage. The protagonist is realising that those extra things, maybe that colour tv or newer car was never actually that important, what was important was the immaterial, unquantifiable entities, the free-time, and those early hopes and dreams.

In this depressive state the protagonist looks back to the past, to those memories to further escape the world he now finds himself in, however, the protagonist starts to see those early hopes and dreams as a barrier to the future. Those early lies the young man believed about materialism and moneymaking have fallen out dead of the sky, as Icarus flying to close to the sun, — the protagonist unfortunately believed too much in the capitalist dream. This is portrayed by a brilliant piece of lyrical changes from Springsteen. As the protagonist looks back on his youth the river is replaced by the reservoir. Unlike the free-flowing river, a reservoir is a body of water halted in its advance by some barrier. While the river represented the future and escapism, as he looks to the past and remembers the reservoir, the protagonist understands that those dreams were actually what was holding him back. Rather than understanding that material prosperity wasn’t the be all and end all of life in his youth, he only recognises it now in his later years, when times are tough and he’s down on his luck.

Springsteen seems to be negating the American dream, he has seen through its façade and disguise, noting it for what it is, a delusion; “Now those memories come back to haunt me / They haunt me like a curse / Is a dream a lie if it don't come true? / Or is it something worse?”. The protagonist, now haunted with this brutal awakening, returns his mind to the river, and even though he knows the river was never what he thought it was, he simply cannot help himself. In his despair he has fallen into pitiful hopelessness, “That sends me down to the river / Though I know the river is dry”. He can’t accept that everything he once believed was not how it was and so he returns to some idealised past to try and recapture those old feelings.

This is the case for many Reactionaries. They dislike the modern world and its consequences, yet they still hold onto the distant past as if it represented something distinct from what came after it. This type of thinking is unhelpful, it is akin to saying that dusk is the antithesis to night, rather than recognising that one necessarily follows the other. In an effort to move away from a cosmopolitan and globalist capitalism, the Right needs to reimagine an entirely new system. The recent rediscovery of Friedrich List is a promising example of a potential starting point, and I recommend the recent reprint of his work with a foreword by my good friend Francis O Beirne.

We must recognise that capitalism is just as subversive as communism and carve a new path out for ourselves. Both systems are qualitatively identical and represent two wings of the same bird, both systems are predicated on the assumptions of materialism, production, and consumption. So long as we only argue about materialist conditions and believe that real human progress is determined by a particular system of wealth distribution then we are not even close to what is necessary.

A shift in thinking away from this capitalist worldview is certainly necessary, for it is more pernicious than communism since it masquerades itself as an angel of light. A greater emphasis needs to be placed on those cultural and immaterial factors at play in the human life, so that a moral society can prosper and flourish. Incumbent with this is a change in the aesthetics of our culture which I believe can be achieved through a new musical awakening, because of that great historical influence popular music has on the minds and worldviews of the masses.