It's starting to all make sense

Nostalgia has always played a part in the music of Luke Haines.

Scattershot references to the people, places and events that informed his childhood litter his work.

From Auteurs lyrics that detail the minutiae of British ‘culture’, through the explicit use of the Baader Meinhof name, on to the subtle use of imagery such as Lord Lucan in his band’s artwork, the 1970s are nearly always present in one form or another. Although not necessarily in a positive way. Where Ray Davies detailed the quirky aspects of British life and Morrissey glamorises an imagined England that probably never really existed, Luke Haines is far more cynical, barbed and realistic. Maybe an altogether truer embodiment of what it is to be British.

If he ever owned some rose tinted specs, they lost their lustre a long time ago. He doesn’t hark back to a glory time. Never kids himself that the old days were better. Rather, his references deconstruct that very British ideal. They get under the skin of the façade. Offer a sneary dismissal of the minutiae that fills our island. The ridiculous, hypocritical nature of the stiff upper lip. The superiority complex. The little island syndrome. The empty passing fads. The oh-so-important tabloid press and their duplicitous nature. The hush-hush-brush-it-under-the-carpet-hope-it-goes-away mentality. He scratches the itch. Picks away at the scabs. If it’s been built up, he’s more than willing to knock it down. All of which sounds very bleak, pessimistic and not a great deal of fun to listen to.

Thankfully, Luke Haines is in possession of two things that stop him falling into that particular hole. Firstly, that most British of things, the dry wit. While it’s easy to paint him as the one dimensional grouch the way the press regularly does, it’s not an accurate portrayal. There’s an intelligent humour in his writing that often gets missed or misinterpreted. He pokes fun, mocks and highlights absurdities without ever resorting to cruel, unnecessary jibes. The fact that he doesn’t live up to the clichés of rock excess, dumb down or tow the line is, I think, probably the reason for the perception of him as being awkward and an eternal misery. At least that’s how he can come across in the print media. On the few occasions I’ve heard him interviewed he always comes across as a personable, funny and yes, cynical person. He’s also a great songwriter. The second of his saving graces.

Now, if you’ve hung around here for a while, you’ll know I’m a pretty big fan of The Auteurs and indeed, I’ve posted a few bits by a few of his bands trying to get people to listen to what he’s done before. But today, I’m posting something new. An acoustic version of the title track from his new album. More than any song that’s come before it, ‘21st Century Man’ is an honest, straight forward, autobiographical song detailing the events of his life. From his birth to the preset day, it’s the story of his life and how it mixed and mingled with the headlines, politics, people and events of the day. Bowie, Thatcher and the Green Cross Code Man are all name checked as that familiar to some semi whispered voice reflects on where he came from and maybe where he seems himself in the new century. The dawning realisation that his cultural reference points are all in the past finds Luke Haines not exactly happy with his lot, but certainly more aware of his place in the world. ‘I travelled all my life, but never got away’ he once wrote on Black Box Recorder’s ‘England Made Me’. Here he seems to have finally stopped moving, accepting his place as ‘an exile in a foreign land’. Feeling out of touch with the modern world he may be, but on the basis of this song there’s still some life in him yet.

Luke Haines - 21st century man (live session version) original version available on '21st Century Man'

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