The Clash – This Is England
The last great Clash song: an unlikely, stately, sad synth ballad about the state of a nation – a state seemingly unchanged since 1985 – full of racial violence, police obliviousness to public distress, and “human factory farms”. Yet still, thanks to the crashing power chords of the chorus, there might be some grain of hope left.
Slowthai – Nothing Great About Britain
If the new king wants to know how many of his subjects live, he could do worse than ask Slowthai to explain about whiteys, asbos, skunk and unending tension: “Three lions, real McCoy, you’re EDL, real English boys / St George’s flag, Doc Marten, boy.” He may be a little surprised by the closing message to the monarchy, though: “I will treat you with the utmost respect / Only if you respect me a little bit, Elizabeth” – dropping a C-bomb thereafter.
Gerry Cinnamon – Hope Over Fear
King Charles loves Scotland. Loves it so much he’s written children’s books about it. Loves it so much he wears a kilt. Loves it so much he wants to be its king. But he might wish to check in with the official Voice of Young Scotland about how much he is wanted in the Highlands. “Are you happy that nuclear weapons are dumped on the Clyde?” he sings, “Fighting wars for the wealth of the few, how many have died?”
Riz MC – Englistan
It’s enough to make one feel sorry for Charles, should he survey Britain’s musical landscape: is this really the Britain he is to rule? Riz MC – the nom de rap of actor Riz Ahmed – offers no consolation as he surveys the version of England he lives in: “Pigs hit kids, so / Bricks hit windows and the high street burns.” His diagnosis of the English condition – “politeness mixed with violence” – holds true for the monarchy, too.
Dua Lipa – Levitating
A reminder of what a productive modern Britain might look like: the child of refugees from one of the nations more demonised by the British right – Albania – becomes one of the world’s biggest pop stars by the simple expedient of being really, really good at it. Meritocracy in action, for a change.
Sex Pistols – God Save the Queen
It does no harm to offer a reminder that the monarchy has long been a symbol of something other than national unity – that to lots of people it represents a backwards repressiveness that is deeply engrained in British culture. Charles would doubtless profess that there’s nothing he wants less than to make you “a moron, a potential H-bomb”, but he might pause to wonder why so many feel disdain for the institutions of the crown.
PJ Harvey – The Words That Maketh Murder
The monarch serves also as commander-in-chief of the United Kingdom’s armed forces, and rare is the ruler who hasn’t had a chest emblazoned with scores of medals to recognise their status. What lies behind military medals? Bravery, suffering, death. The Words That Maketh Murder is a reminder that soldiering is not just putting on a show at Horse Guards Parade: “I’ve seen and done things I want to forget,” Harvey sings. “I’ve seen soldiers fall like lumps of meat.”
Joy Crookes – 19th Floor
The king has very publicly complained about the redevelopment of our cities – about the “monstrous carbuncles” replacing his beloved classical facades. He pays less attention, perhaps, to the people who inhabit buildings. Joy Crookes’ song is a reminder that even 19 storeys up, there are communities, and that every piece of renewal and gentrification guts what came before.
Fairport Convention – Matty Groves
Finally, he’ll probably like an old folk song, played by middle-class people. Except Matty Groves speaks directly to our present: class, misogyny, “honour” killings, sexual compulsion – they’re all in here. Charles might seem to be longing for less complicated times, but the times were never uncomplicated unless you were rich enough to iron out the kinks.
The Kinks – Autumn Almanac
Speaking of which, sometimes one wants to flee the present and wrap oneself in nostalgia for a barely remembered past. And for those times, Autumn Almanac exists – the sweetest, loveliest of Ray Davies songs, hymning a Britain of making do and taking small pleasures: “I like my football on a Saturday / Roast beef on Sundays, all right / I go to Blackpool for my holidays, sit in the open sunlight.” Finally, the kind of subject Charles wants!
