Robb Johnson at The Royal Oak

‘No one writes political songs anymore, folk music is all about light entertainment.’ Robb Johnson isn’t for the faint hearted. His songs champion the working classes, engage the woebegone and bring poetry to the sad and lonely. He’s not exactly a bundle of laughs. But something of his disdain rings true. ‘Folk music,’ he argues, ‘leans on tradition and big festivals.’ For a moment I ponder things from this angle. I have only looked for more of the young in folk. Others have asked that these young should carry on tradition. And here is Johnson saying that all of this overlooks the last couple of hundred years. ‘Do we want folk music to be re-invented as some sort of living museum,’ he chants, ‘with its nice olde tunes being passed down from generation to generation?’

I’m not sure that we do. For a man whose early hero was Ziggy Stardust, perhaps this stirring up of fond tradition is to be expected. It seems you just can’t get away from the now in his music and with regular references to New Labour, neither can Tony Blair. That said, the music holds a few specimens from the past. The song ‘Invisible People’ rolls the sounds of Parisian café with reggae music and adds a pinch of Brechtian words for good measure. But don’t go thinking he’s a dour protest singer. Just one listen of ‘Evergreen’ reveals a passion outside of politics and a lush appreciation for the beauty in a muddy pool. EM