The radical positivity of post-punk’s second wave

The deluge of disasters we are constantly bombarded with from all corners could lead you to think that we’ve hit rock bottom, and maybe we have, but the plus side is that there are still plenty of reasons to be cheerful. The billowing second wave of what many are calling post-punk – but who really cares what label you tag onto it – has done a great job of asserting this with radical positivity that happily goes against the grain of circumstance.

On May 5th, 2020, at the height of lockdown, Fontaines D.C. unleashed a message that resonated with illuminating levity: “Life ain’t always empty.” It rattled through the malaise like the ding of the takeaway delivery doorbell on a hungover Sunday. Life, indeed, is not always empty and amid an ocean of bullshit, music can help you sail on a coracle of unimpeachable, hope, exultation, and a soundscape that brightens dull days like the sticker at the end of the dental appointment.

This message didn’t start with ‘A Hero’s Death’ and it certainly hasn’t ended with it either, but “Life ain’t always empty” certainly seems to be a mantra that is reverberating through the scene. And not to put too fine a point on it, but the reason why that is the case is that there is actually a scene to start with.

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As Tom Coll of Fontaines D.C. told me himself: “There’s 100% a collective spirit. I was in New York last week, and I kind of felt like I got transported into a little scene of bands that I was sort of hanging out with and coming back to London I feel like that is a very clear thing here too. You’ve got loads of bands here like Shame and Black Midi and that whole like South London crew. I think there is a real tangible thing here.”

And Charlie Sheen of Shame told us much the same too. In fact, he even recalled a galvanizing moment for the emerging scene. “I’ll never forget the day [David Bowie] passed away. We were at practice in Camberwell and walked with Jason and Candy, who owned the rehearsal space, up to Brixton. Never have I seen something like it, and I doubt I’ll see anything like it again.

Continuing: “The streets were chocked, and the traffic was at a stand-still, the pedestrians and the drivers both chanting along to the great David Bowie.” It’s an in-memoriam scene that conjures up notions of a World Cup Win. It was also proof to the bands and artists gathered there that music can transfigure dower circumstances like a proverbial crock of gold.

And this sense of collectivism has held the door open in a positive fashion like the rare friendly bouncer for the next generation too. At 17, singer-songwriter Tom A. Smith isn’t even old enough to get into the club, but even he told us he has felt the benevolent buzz of the way music is currently tackling the times. “[Gigging] I was always going around with great bands who had had successful careers and written great songs themselves, so I’d be getting advice and talking to them with me being young, and they were giving me tips, so that always helped,” he said.

In the past, there might have been feuds and cynicism between bands but that seems to have yielded toward a sense of collectivism. It would seem that when the faeces started being rocket launched against the fan, bands had a choice to make, and they have boldly offered up bliss that is free from ignorance. By no means is the scene a laugh a minute with Enya-Esque dreamscapes forming the sound, but in this mindful age, it offers up vital messages of positivity alongside a visceral disdain and a need for the times to change.

Yard Act have captured the times with comical character studies like their loutish eponymous ‘Barry Homeowner’ adjacent Graham, Fontaines have taken an “inward” “style of character studies” approach fit for the zeitgeist, Dry Cleaning have reflected the absurdism of the era with thrillingly original nonsense poetry, and many other corroborations have been done with a reflective wry smile. Times are tough, and post-punk always comes out of that, but the core tenet of the second wave is that you don’t have to wallow in it while you hold up the mirror.

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