2020 was the year when we should have completed the process of tearing ourselves apart over the isolationist, unneighbourly, and politically, economically and reputationally disastrous decision that was Brexit. (Other views on Brexit are available).
In the event, it turned out that being isolationist was the most neighbourly thing we could do as we fought a virus that threatened our lives and respected neither borders, political divides, nor the economy or reputations.
2020 was also a year when lockdown encouraged me to finally and fully embrace music streaming services. Lifelong friends on vinyl or compact disc are good and trusted companions, but streaming has opened my eyes, and my ears, to a newer and much more diverse set of musical acquaintances.
Music has always been important to me, and lyrics in particular hook themselves onto my subconscious and then appear at moments both opportune and inopportune, to hum in my head or, occasionally, sing themselves uninvited in my own throat. The connections they make with my life are often tangential, and occasionally inappropriate.
Stop me if you think that you’ve heard this one before. That’s a line from The Smiths that pops up when, as in any long-term relationship, someone starts an anecdote that I may not be hearing for the first time. It gets me into trouble because my partner knows the next line which my conscious brain didn’t even consider. I still love you, but only slightly less than I used to.
This is my ‘Leaving the EU’ playlist: ten songs from ten different EU countries. The songs themselves have nothing whatsoever to do with Brexit, but somewhere in them – in a chorus, a lyric fragment, an unexpected key change – they express Brexit for me.
They’re a varied bunch, but they’re also a cracking set of songs. In the interest of fairness, I offer here versions from two streaming services in case you can’t or won’t access either one of them. I use Apple for my preferred version of the song, and YouTube to provide a video, if it exists, for another version. If you shoot off to listen to or look at one of them, please don’t forget to pop back for the rest!
Roxy Music: A Song for Europe 1973
An album track from the third Roxy Music album in 1973, the year that Britain joined what would become the European Union. True to those grandiose years of glam rock, ‘A Song for Europe’ includes some magnificent melodramatic moodiness from Bryan Ferry, a reverberating solo bassline from John Gustafson, Andy Mackay’s urgent imploring saxophone, lyrics in three languages (living and dead), and some distant Gallic whistling to end the song.
“Though the world is my oyster, it’s only a shell full of memories…”
“There’s no more time for us. Nothing is there for us to share, but yesterday.”
The original album track can be found here, and a slightly more middle-aged but still very worthwhile live version of the song can be found here.
Jacques Brel: Ne me quitte pas [‘Don’t leave me‘] 1959
Jacques Brel sits near the top of any list of the greatest ever Belgians, though like his compatriot Hercules Poirot, many have thought that he was actually French, myself included. He was a singer-songwriter credited with reinterpreting, if not defining, the French chanson in terms of how it engaged with its audience and expressed what they could be feeling.
This song was recorded first in 1959, and is generally thought to be his greatest ever song. Recorded in at least 25 languages, it has been released by stars as diverse as Marlene Dietrich, Frank Sinatra, Cyndi Lauper, and Wyclef Jean. Brel is quoted as having said that this is not a love song, but is a “hymn to the cowardice of men.”
If Europe started off by wanting to say “ne me quitte pas” to us, I’m not sure the cowardice of our behaviour left it still feeling the same when all the wrangling finally came to an end.
An original recording, which sounds like what it is – a song from a different age and a different technology – can be found here, and a haunting, passionate, perspiration-soaked live version of the song can be watched here.
Elefantes: Duele [‘It Hurts‘] 2016
This is a gentle rock and roller coaster of a song, softly rolling you along with its quietly insistent percussion, its subtle strumming of the acoustic guitar, its regular repetition of the backing strings and the slow riff of the electric guitar. It lulls you, cradles you in its arms as it carries you along until you notice the truth of the song and the singer lets you glimpse the secret of the words behind the rolling of his r’s. And then you understand it. Entiéndelo. It hurts.
It hurts to see that you are not the same as always
It hurts to see that what we share today no longer exists
It hurts to see that there are twenty thousand kilometres between us
You can tap your feet along with the song here and allow yourself to be mesmerised by the video here.
Revolverheld: Ich lass für dich das Licht an [‘I leave the light on for you‘] 2013
I leave the light on for you is not a torch song. It’s not an “I’ll leave a light in the window for you so you can find your way back home through all the bleak Brexit darkness” kind of song. It is a love song. Currently, it’s probably my favourite love song.
It’s an “I’ll leave the light on for you even though the room’s too bright for me to sleep and I’ll listen to songs with you that I really don’t like and I’ll be quiet for you when you’re far too loud and I’ll run down to the corner shop for you day or night” kind of song. That’s my kind of love song.
It would be kinda nice though if Angela Merkel would leave the outside light on just in case we do find our way back.
The song can be listened to here. The video shows how the band helped life-long friend David use the song to propose to the girlfriend he first met at one of the band’s concerts six years previously. If you want a feel-good music video that could put a tear in your eye, this is the one. She finally works out what’s going on. “Alles OK? You know what’s coming next?” David asks here.
Sinéad O’Connor: This is a Rebel Song 1997
This is probably the most beautiful song ever written and sung by Sinéad O’Connor. It is delivered with such a fragile brokenness and vulnerability. Written in a time when “crazies” were still “killing our sons” it is also a reminder of the danger Brexit might yet pose to the hard-won peace in Ireland. This is a rebel song, but it is also a love song, and a song that reflects the complicated long-term relationship we have between both sides of the Irish Sea.
You can listen to the song here and watch a live version here. I’d do both, and many times too.
Patrick Fiori: Que tu reviennes [‘If you were to come back‘] 1999
The Corsican chanteur was able to sneak into the French slot in my playlist when I realised that Jacques Brel wasn’t.
Back in the day, we used to pack six children and all our belongings into the ‘Bratmobile’ and head off to France for our summer holiday. We did that because it was cheaper, the weather was better, and because I love the French language. I would use any excuse to spend some time there.
One of my daughters was a big fan of Patrick Fiori. Reluctantly (‘ahem’), I agreed to chaperone her to a weekend event for his fan club somewhere near Avignon. I had a great time, and so did she, once she got over my worst ever faux pas speaking to a very respectable elderly lady in French. Patrick was great, made time to speak to everyone, and performed a mini-concert for us in a small village hall.
‘Que tu reviennes’ is a song for when you realise that someone isn’t coming back, that we’re not coming back. You can listen to it here or watch the video here.
Evelyne: Jag vill vara [‘I want to be’] 2019
Those of you who know me well will know that there just had to be one of these songs in this playlist: a song with a driving rhythm, jangling guitars and a catchy chorus to sing and pogo to in the moshpit. This is a song of being and of disagreeing, and of still being. Some of our best relationships can be fractious at times. Those we are closest to are also those we rub up the wrong way most often. Doesn’t mean we had to leave though, does it?
“I want to be, I want to be with you
I want to row, I want to row with you
I just, just want to be with you…”
You’ll find there’s a few songs up in the north called something very similar to this. This song is from the Du eller aldrig [‘You or nothing‘] album. There is no video but you can listen to the song here or here.
Venerus & Mace: Canzone per un amico [‘Song for a friend‘] 2020
Chilled out and bathed in a music of luxuriant sumptuousness, this most recent song in the list just oozes affection. How can we have done this thing that separates us now from those closest to us?
“With this song I want to remind you that, if you want, you can call me friend. When you need it most, I will always be there for you, if everything goes wrong…”
There is no video for this song. Best to close your eyes and listen to it here or here.
Laura Nähri: Mä annan sut pois [‘I give you away‘] 2019
I don’t have any Finnish songs in my vinyl or CD collections. Streaming has changed all that. Such a beautiful language to sing in and so many beautiful songs sung in it. This was going to be the final song of my playlist, the final beautiful nail in the coffin of our European dream.
“You give me away, you let me go. You get used to everything, just smiling. Nothing else to give, let’s give up on each other quietly.”
You can sob quietly to it here, or watch a beautiful live version of it here, through watery eyes.
Julia Werup: Lämna inte mig [‘Don’t leave me‘] 2019
So, the final song in my playlist, and I’d probably say that I think I’ve left the best to last. Those who live with me and get to hear the draft playlists on longer car journeys – all car journeys up here are longer – are usually saying “Can we not listen to something less depressing!” by this stage. It’s all a matter of perspective.
We’ve almost come full circle now. This is a most beautiful version of the Jacques Brel classic we started with. Translated and then sung by Danish jazz singer Julia Werup, this song needs only to be listened to in a quiet dark room. No other words from me are needed.
You can listen to the single version here, again and again. There is only the slightly longer version with the jazzy finish available here. For once I’d say that less is probably more.
…and finally…
If you’ve made it this far, then thanks for sticking with this, an occasional piece of self-indulgence on social media. Whatever I think of leaving the EU, or our confinements due to the virus, I don’t see this as a depressing playlist.
Sorrow and joy are threads intertwined at the heart of our human existence, and these songs have brought me much enjoyment. To find so much music that resonates with my various tastes and emotions, and so many lyrics that offer a connection in languages that I do not speak, from so many countries and cultures in this part of our beautiful and diverse continent, has been a real joy for me. Thanks for listening!
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