The moment music became “the lowest form of art”, according to Jah Wobble
Speaking with Far Out in 2022, bassist and singer Jah Wobble discussed his love for the bass guitar and what prompted him to pick up the instrument at an early age.
“It was the sonic end side of things that really grabbed me at first, especially with the blue beat, or ska, music,” he said. “The bass end of it was becoming a bit heavier than other contemporary records. I didn’t even articulate it that much at the time but it drew me in”.
Born John Wardle in Stepney, east London, 1958, Wobble has borne witness to the city’s ever-changing landscape as it endures political turmoil and the influx and departures of subcultures. As he began to feel punk’s aftershocks in London from New York City, his friend group took notice.
Known as The Four Johns, including John Lydon (later Rotten) and Sid Vicious (born John Simon Ritchie), the two went on to annihilate the UK punk scene with the Sex Pistols, but Wobble’s emergence as a musician took time. After seeing Aston ‘Family Man’ Barrett with the Wailers at the Lyceum in 1975, his preoccupation with bass players began.
The Sex Pistols’ short-lived reign yielded a new project from Lydon: Public Image Limited, with Wobble on bass. PiL leaned into post-punk’s more experimental sonic influences, with the two musicians sharing an appreciation for reggae and world music. Though Wobble’s tenure would only last for two albums, his influence began to hone a spirited punk approach, similar to the Sex Pistols, with a more varied sound. His post-PiL career has seen him work with artists like Björk, Brian Eno, Sinéad O’Connor and The Edge, becoming a well-respected session musician known for his knowledge of world music.
Wobble has remained conscious of London’s changes over the decades, particularly how it has slowly stifled musicians’ creativity in favour of political influence. He tells the Huffington Post: “There’s a precedent to what has happened to London, and it’s called Manhattan. The gentrification of areas like the Lower East Side made the locals resentful of newcomers who had bought into the marketing of real estate agents who resold rundown areas as urban and edgy. This happened to East London.”
The evident parallels between New York and London’s gentrification, especially considering how punk and its many subcultures have been effectively pushed out of their home cities, have warranted polarising results.
Speaking of London’s after-effects, Wobble laments: “The old East End culture came from the area’s industry, so it was bound to disappear. The docks were never going to survive the days of containerisation. It’s just not my patch anymore. Where you go after that is the real challenge.”
From his perspective, music culture has lost its home in London. “Music is the lowest art form,” he claims. “Even cooking is above music now. I used to feel sorry for painters and actors in rep, but now I feel sorry for musicians because theirs is a hopeless cause. When I was young we had squats to fall back on. But when Thatcher and free market economics came along, I knew it was going to get unpleasant. Today, there’s a lack of respect for culture and for living a life well. Life’s not about whether your car has got a bloody dent in it. Life’s about how you live, how you eat.”
From a man who has seen some of music’s most pivotal communities come and go, Wobble’s comments on the London landscape’s stifling of creatives are poignant. His belief that “the music business has become dull” may be true, but his reflections may nod towards the beginnings of a new cultural reckoning.
