{"id":9025,"date":"2011-12-19T09:42:39","date_gmt":"2011-12-19T09:42:39","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.badreputation.org.uk\/?p=9025"},"modified":"2011-12-19T09:42:39","modified_gmt":"2011-12-19T09:42:39","slug":"christmas-songnerd-fairytale-of-new-york","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/badreputation.org.uk\/2011\/12\/19\/christmas-songnerd-fairytale-of-new-york\/","title":{"rendered":"Christmas Songnerd: Fairytale of New York"},"content":{"rendered":"
Here we are again, with another round! If you’ve not been keeping up, Christmas Songnerd is my attempt at some little case studies on some of the ‘Christmas classics’ currently assaulting your ears as you forge a path through the hordes of your local shopping centre. You may hate all Christmas music, or you may love it \u2013 personally I\u2019ve never minded it much \u2013 but pop singles are like miniature time capsules, so examining their gender politics and the culture they were produced in is… you know. Interesting.<\/p>\n
Anyway, today I’ve hauled our Rhian in to talk about
Fairytale of New York<\/strong>, the Pogues’ and Kirsty
MacColl’s Christmas anthem. The following is our email discussion
about the song, the 1980s, folk music, and class politics.<\/p>\n
Grab a whiskey.<\/p>\n
Rhian:<\/strong> I think one reason the song is so popular is because
it seems like an oddity – it’s highly secular, the only
mention of anything to do with Christmas is the setting, and it
dissects romantic sentimentalism rather than replicating it –
the lyric is of a part with the rest of the Pogues’ tragicomic
gutter-poetry dealing with addiction, nihilism, prostitution, police
corruption and brutality. Besides making it stand out among other
seasonal songs, this also makes it the choice of the Christmas
refusenik. In another way, of course, its depiction of dysfunctional
relationships, exhaustion, frustration, frayed tempers and failed
dreams make it the perfect song for Christmas as emotional
pressure-valve.<\/p>\n
Miranda:<\/strong> Yeah, it manages a keen balancing act of
romantic and antiromantic, if you will – it sways between
“I’ve built my dreams around you” and
“you’re an old slut on junk” so deftly that I
can never decide whether its final notes leave me depressed or
hopeful. It’s got that whole “we’re ruined,
irrevocably, and yet I love you” vibe, without ever straying
into ‘stand by your man’ territory.<\/p>\n
Rhian:<\/strong> Kirsty’s character makes a good
subversive girl-next-door, overcoming taboos around female
profanity, the place of women in a relationship, and the
female as uncritically supportive of and subservient to the
male. (After punk, and apart from Madonna maybe, which other
mainstream late-80s female singers – especially
folk\/pop – compare with her vocal here for casual,
combative profanity that matches, if not outdoes, her
partner?)<\/p>\n
I remember watching a ‘Making of…’
documentary on this song in which one of the Pogues was
describing Kirsty’s efforts to overcome her
stagefright when doing the song on tour with them, and
recalled that on the first night they performed it, the
crowd joined in with her, rather than Shane, on the
‘I could’ve been someone’ \/
‘Well, so could anyone’<\/em> rejoinder.
Which made me think about her part as the one with which
listeners identify, the long-suffering steadfast
partner\/friend who finally talks back, providing
much-needed perspective, however depressing that is, and
the relief and catharsis that doing so brings.
It’s like she speaks for all the women slaving
over Xmas dinner for ungrateful kids and
husbands.<\/p>\n
Miranda:<\/strong> Although Shane’s character
asserts a kind of ownership of Kirsty’s dreams
(he’s the one who takes, builds, attempts to
reassure her that she sits at the centre of the
dream it sounds like
he<\/em> screwed up), he starts the song
imprisoned in the “drunk tank” –
implying she’s a dream, this woman, a figure
from times past. So maybe where she is now –
free, perhaps, who knows? – is left open.
And I think that’s another thing that
underpins the bittersweet, shady-grey spirit of
this song. It’s never clear whose story this
is, and there’s a real tension between her
narrations and his, which draw the song back to a
romantic, but broken, conclusion even as her
“I pray god it’s our last” is
still sort of echoing. Maybe it was, or maybe it
wasn’t.<\/p>\n
Rhian:<\/strong> That’s one of my
favourite aspects of the song – what did
happen to this couple, in the end? Does she
come and pick him up from the drunk tank and
bail him out after the song’s close, or
has she OD’d years previously, or is she
happily settled in her own life now? And yes,
it nicely dodges the expected
stand-by-your-man stuff. Actually it’s
very even-handed in the way they both berate
each other, sounding equally foul-mouthed and
irritable, presumably he’s got his
drinking and she’s got her junk so
they’re both in the grip of addiction
– again it subverts the idea of the meek
and submissive female innocent under the
grubby domineering male thumb.<\/p>\n
Miranda:<\/strong> I also like the way it
takes the folk figure of the lonely
drunkard singing about his old flame and
brings her directly into the song to talk
back.<\/p>\n
Rhian:<\/strong> Yes, totally –
she’s one of the old
ballads’ idealised nebulous
foils, who suddenly clears her throat
and interrupts the narrative with her
side of the story – making both
of them more well-rounded characters
by doing so.<\/p>\n
For the Top of the Pops
appearance, the BBC insisted
that MacColl’s singing of
“arse” be replaced
with the less offensive
“ass”, although as
she mimed the word MacColl
slapped the relevant part of her
body to make it clear what was
meant… On December 18,
2007, BBC Radio 1 put a ban on
the words “faggot”
and “slut” from
“Fairytale of New
York” to “avoid
offence”.<\/p>\n
– Wikipedia<\/a><\/p><\/blockquote>\n
Rhian:<\/strong> Re:
‘faggot’, which
admittedly I always found
slightly incongruous in
context, Wikipedia also sez:
In his Christmas podcast,
musical comedian <\/em>Mitch Benn<\/em><\/a>
commented that
“faggot” was
Irish and <\/em>Liverpudlian<\/em><\/a>
slang for a lazy
person, and was
unrelated to the
derogatory term for
homosexuals.)<\/em>
Also, the one word
that never seems to
get dubbed out is
‘punk’,
despite its
historical
application to
female prostitutes,
rent-boys and prison
‘bitches’…<\/p>\n
Miranda:<\/strong>And
I think
it’s not
impossible they
weren’t
aware of that
given that the
folk canon
– which
the MacColl
family were well
into –
does contain
dances several
hundred years
old with titles
like “the
punk’s
delight”.<\/p>\n
Rhian:<\/strong>
The use of
‘punk’
and
‘faggot’
–
while the
latter may
not be used
in its
modern,
derogatory
sense, I
think it
undeniably
carries
those
connotations
–
makes for,
in terms of
stereotyping,
an odd kind
of
feminisation
(that may be
the wrong
word,
it’s
been a long
week) of the
male
protagonist.
Shane
Macgowan has
referenced
male
prostitution
as part of a
generally
chaotic\/hustling
lifestyle in
songs like
‘The
Old Main
Drag’;
I wonder if
a similar
thing is
being
implied
here.<\/p>\n
Miranda:<\/strong>
I’d
never
considered
that
–
but
it’s
Kirsty
who says
“punk”,
isn’t
it. I
think it
has a
more
general
usage
which is
a bit
like
“bum”,
but I
like the
choice
of word
because
it
doesn’t
immediately
imply
that the
only one
who
might
have
engaged
in that
lifestyle
is
automatically
the
woman,
which a
first
listening
of
“old
slut on
junk”
connotates.<\/p>\n
Rhian:<\/strong>
And,
to
be
wanky,
in
terms
of
socio-political
context:
both
MacColl
and
the
Pogues
were
outspokenly
left-wing.
In
1987
Thatcher
had
just
been
reelected,
the
mass
civil
unrest,
strikes
and
riots
of
the
early
1980s
had
simmered
down
despite
increasing
wealth
disparity
and
ostentatious
display
by
those
at
the
top
of
the
pile,
both
here
and
in
the
US
under
Reagan.
In
the
UK
this
is
the
era
of
Enfield
as
Loadsamoney,
in
New
York
of
American
Psycho<\/strong>
and
Wall
Street<\/strong>
(the
latter
film
released
the
same
year
as
this
song).
MacColl’s
opening
lines
(‘They
got
cars
big
as
bars,
they
got
rivers
of
gold
\/
But
the
wind
blows
right
through
you…’)
concisely
and
incisively
sums
up
the
period’s
glaring
inconsistencies,
setting
the
scene
without
allowing
it
to
colour
the
rest
of
the
song
–
except
inasmuch
as
the
protagonists
seem
likely
to
be
nearer
the
bottom
of
the
heap
than
the
top,
relying
on
each
other
with
little
material
resources
to
fall
back
on.<\/p>\n
Miranda:<\/strong>
So
what
about
all
these
covers?
Do
any
of
them
cut
the
mustard,
or
do
anything
that
makes
them
worth
a
listen?
The
Ronan
Keating\/Maire
Brennan<\/a>
one,
I
just
…
WHYYYY.
Bowdlerised
out
of
all
hell.<\/p>\n
Rhian:<\/strong>
It’s
been
covered
into
cliche,
and
yet
I
can’t
think
of
any
that
did
anything
memorable
with
it,
or
did
anything
other
than
diminish
the
power
and
energy
of
the
original,
especially
with
the
bowing
to
bowdlerisation
in
a
version
like
the
Ronan
one.
It’s
hard
to
see
how
it
could
be
covered
in
a
way
that
did
anything
other
than
replicate
it.<\/p>\n
Miranda:<\/strong>
That
whole
Ronan
recording
is
like
some
terrible
Irish
tourist
board
pantomime.
The
only
thing
worse
would
be
Michael
Flatley
doing
an
interpretive
dance
version.
She
leaves
“arse”
in,
and
I
thought
it’d
be
like
hearing
the
queen
fart
or
something,
but
somehow
it’s
disappointing.
She
sounds
like
she’s
still
singing
about
the
wild
green
mystical
castle
of
Ireland
and
wee-diddly-dee
in
that
totally
Clannady
way
all
the
same.<\/p>\n
Happy Christmas Your Arse<\/h3>\n
Queen of New York City<\/h3>\n
Cheap, Lousy and…
Haggard?<\/h3>\n
Cars
Big As
Bars<\/h3>\n
You
Promised
Me
Broadway<\/h3>\n