Linton Kwesi Johnson honoured

Father of dub poetry wins 2012 Golden PEN Award

The father of dub poetry, Linton Kwesi Johnson, has won the 2012 Golden PEN Award, awarded annually to an accomplished writer, resident in Britain, whose work has had “a profound impact on readers, and who is held in high regard by fellow writers and the literary community”. Previous recipients have included Salman Rushdie, Harold Pinter and Margaret Drabble.

Speaking to the Independent over the weekend, the 60-year-old poet and musician noted his shock upon hearing the news. “I’m not exactly in the mainstream of the British literary scene; I’m nearer the periphery,” he said, going on to explain that he hasn’t, in fact, written a line of poetry in years. “If a poem happens to come to me, I write it. But I am not bothered. If I never write another poem, so be it.”

Johnson has written profoundly on civic unrest, race and police brutality in Britain. His poetry collection, Mi Revalueshanary Fren, was published in the Penguin Modern Classics series, and his albums – notably Dread Beat an’ Blood (1978), Forces of Victory (1979), Bass Culture (1980) and Making History (1983) – which blend reggae, toasting and rhythmic, haunting spoken word, did so much to bring the language, culture and concerns of British Afro-Caribbeans to cultural prominence, particularly in times of difficulty.

“Di Great Insohreckshan” was written in response to the 1981 Brixton riots, at a time when The Spectator claimed Johnson's phonetic rendering of English-Jamaican patois “wreaked havoc in schools and helped create a generation of rioters and illiterates”. Another powerful poem, “Sonny’s Lettah”, is spoken from the perspective of a young Jamaican, writing to his mother from Brixton jail, after his brother is randomly apprehended by police: “Jim start to wriggle / di police start to giggle…”

Johnson sees poetry and music as vehicles for liberation, available to all, something he explained in an interview before performing at the Festival des Libération in France last year (see below). Perhaps the timing of the award, so recently after PEN’s Catechism: Poems for Pussy Riot was published, hopes to offer a reminder of what poetry and music have done for the oppressed throughout history.

Below are some choice performances by Johnson and the Dub Band, live and on the Old Grey Whistle Test. To read a short interview with Johnson, published in the NS in 2008, click here.

Linton Kwesi Johnson. Photo: Getty Images.

Philip Maughan is a freelance writer in Berlin and a former Assistant Editor at the New Statesman.

Show Hide image

Broken and The Trial: From Sean Bean playing a priest to real life lawyers

A surprisingly involving depiction of a clergyman provides the saintly contrast to the sinner being judged by a real jury.

I was all set to scoff at Broken, Jimmy McGovern’s new series for BBC1 (30 May, 9pm). A drama about a Catholic priest and his impoverished parish in a “major northern city”, it sounded so hilariously McGovern-by-numbers (“Eh, lad, give us the collection bowl – the leccy wants paying”) that on paper it could pass for a spoof. Even funnier, Sean Bean, late of Game of Thrones, was to play the clergyman in question.

Naturally, I adore Bean, who comes from the major northern city that is Sheffield, as I do, and who is so terribly . . . virile (though when I interviewed him in a car park behind King’s Cross Station a few years ago, and a security guard in a high-vis jacket approached us furiously shouting the odds, he ran and hid in his trailer, leaving yours truly to face the music). But let’s face it: he’s not exactly versatile, is he? The idea of him in a cassock, or even just a mud-coloured cardigan, made me laugh out loud.

Settling down to watch the series, however, I soon realised that no scoffing would be taking place. For one thing, Broken is hugely involving, its Dickensian plot (no spoilers here) as plausible as it is macabre. For another, in the present circumstances, its script seems to be rather daring. Not only is Father Michael Kerrigan shown – cover my eyes with the collected works of Richard Dawkins! – to be a good and conscientious priest, but his faith is depicted as a fine and useful thing. If he brings his besieged parishioners solace, he is sure to be carrying vouchers for the food bank as well.

The flashbacks from which he suffers – in which his mammy can be heard calling him a “dirty, filthy beast” and a spiteful old priest is seen applying a cane to his hand – are undoubtedly clichéd. But they are also a device. Forty years on, he is happy to nurse his dying mother, and his love for God is undimmed: two facts that are not, of course, unrelated. How weirdly bold for a television series to set its face against the consensus that denigrates all things Christian as it never would any other faith.

I don’t for a minute buy Anna Friel as Christina, the gobby, broke single mother Kerrigan is determined to help. Even when covered in bruises – a bust-up at the betting shop – Friel manages to look glossy, and she never, ever quits acting (with a capital A), which is a drag. But Bean is such a revelation, I was able to ignore the voice in my head which kept insisting that a Catholic priest as young as he is – in this realm, “young” is a couple of years shy of 60 – would surely be Polish or African (I’m not a Catholic but I am married to one, for which reason I occasionally go to Mass).

He plays Kerrigan, whose overwhelming desire to be kind sometimes makes him cack-handed, with great gentleness, but also with an uninflected ordinariness that is completely convincing. Part of the problem (my problem, at least) with Communion is the lack of rhetorical passion in most priests’ voices, something he captures perfectly. One other thing: Line of Duty fans need to know that Adrian Dunbar – aka Ted Hastings – can also be seen here wearing a dog collar, and that he looks almost as good in it as he does in police uniform.

On Channel 4 The Trial: A Murder in the Family was an experiment in the shape of a murder trial in which the defendant – a university lecturer accused of strangling his estranged wife – and all the witnesses were actors but the lawyers and “jury” were real. Over five consecutive nights (21-25 May, 9pm), I found it pretty tiresome listening to jury members tell the camera what they made of this or that bit of evidence.

Get on with it, I thought, longing again for the return of Peter Moffat’s Silk. But I adored the lawyers, particularly the lead ­defence barrister, John Ryder, QC. What an actor. Sentences left his mouth fully formed, as smooth as they were savage, his charm only just veiling his mighty ruthlessness. Drooling at this performance – which was not, in one sense, a performance at all – I found myself thinking that if more priests came over like barristers, our dying churches might be standing room only.

Rachel Cooke trained as a reporter on The Sunday Times. She is now a writer at The Observer. In the 2006 British Press Awards, she was named Interviewer of the Year.

This article first appeared in the 25 May 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Why Islamic State targets Britain

0800 7318496