“I've cried on ashen floors of working men's clubs '96, '98, 2000, 2002, 2004, oh my God, will it end?”
Well, will it? The Euros are back with its sweet highs and tragic lows, the heartbreak and the triumphs. There’s nothing quite as satisfying (or indeed frightening) as an international tournament at the start of a sun-kissed summer. It is more poignant this year, as the COVID pandemic rumbles on; the light at the end of the tunnel glimmers more brightly than expected. The vaccine rollout is accelerating, the pubs and restaurants are open. Cases are on the rise but hospitalisations and deaths remain low. After a heavy fifteen months, international football is a welcome break.
In April, the deception of the so-called ‘elite’ clubs pushed many fans to the brink as they schemed to create a European Super League. Thankfully, it failed miserably. However, the stench of their unscrupulous greed lingers over football. UEFA are just as villainous as the breakaway ESL clubs and seeing the line-up of corporate sponsors rolling away on the backboards of these early group stage games is a stark reminder that fans will never be at the forefront of these organisations’ minds. Yet, the Euros seems mostly untouched by all this. Many international teams and players donate their tournament payments to charity; England have been doing it since 2007. Every team is here for a shot at glory and not a quick payday. And this summer we can watch along and hug each other on the tiles of our favourite ale-stained local, straining our throats to timeless football anthems.
They’re a funny beast, novelty football songs. Every two years, they do the rounds on the radio without tiring. They’re hymns of hope and collective joy, offering the chance to dream of victory, a desire more intense when coupled with a summer of longed-for social freedom. The lead up to an international tournament is always sound tracked by the usual suspects: Three Lions, World in Motion, Vindaloo. I’m not here to argue that I’m sick of these tracks, I still love blasting them every time England appear on the pitch. But away from these novelties, where can we find other football references in music? What alternatives could we be playing? First stop: Hip-hop.
How often do you fall in love with an album? Is it instant chemistry? Or does it take time and work? Every so often, there’s a release that so chimes with you, it’s hard to believe there was a time it didn’t previously exist. I could have written this entire piece on Navy Blue’s (aka Sage Elsesser) late 2020 album Song of Sage: Post Panic! A remarkable and introspective rumination that touches on everything from trauma, mental health and family to colonialism and what it means to be young and black in America today. From the floaty twinkle of piano on Certainty to the soaring strings sampled on Pressure Points, the skateboarder-cum-critically-acclaimed-rapper has created a devastatingly honest hip-hop album, and one without equal so far this year.
Alongside these central themes is Sage’s evident love of football. On the opening track Dreams of a Distant Journey, we’re treated to four big names in a line that will bring up painful memories for Ireland and England fans: “A distant daze, my journey long, I fix my face to see it, Ronaldinho how I curve the ball, I'm Ziyech from a distance, Roberto Carlos round the problems, Henry with the finish.” The image of Henry’s audacious handball and Ronaldinho’s mesmeric chip over a hapless Seaman flashes before your eyes like a nightmarish fever dream. This, combined with the highly relatable line “way too many European clothes and not enough funds” show a loving affinity for European football culture. However, away from the references to the genius and romanticism of those early 2000s Galacticos, there are also references to the less fashionable. On the album’s title track Post Panic, Sage poetically opines “Pop shots, now the west end, up front, Vardy in the middle of the city like Leicester, when it all boils down I’m just a vector.” There’s a real joy in hearing an artist as undeniably fucking cool and at the height of his powers like Sage, referencing a Red Bull-ravaged 34 year old from Sheffield who’s spent half of his career in the lower reaches of the English football pyramid. Bring him out of international retirement, Southgate.
Sticking with rap, Grime has been a breeding ground for football inspired lyrics in recent years, ranging from the low key to the unabashedly obvious. Dave and AJ Tracey’s Thiago Silva is evidence of the latter. Though the song was already huge, it was thrust even further into the limelight after Glastonbury 2019 when 15 year old Alex Mann was pulled from the audience to rap the track in its entirety with Dave. Paradoxically, despite the track name, the Chelsea central defender barely gets a look in lyrically, with just the one reference: “First time I link her, Nandos sweet, £9.95, I swipe, then eat, I one-two rap, she don't give hat, Thiago Silva, man block, then skeet.” The song is mostly about Dave blocking a girl’s number after a date, though one of the Premier League’s favourite Argentinean sons gets a wee look in too: “If I bang man's face, man bop, then lean, Kun Aguero, man dropped the shoulder feint once, quick kick then I drop man's G.”
The goalscoring exploits of future PM, Marcus Rashford, has been referenced from everyone, including the aforementioned Dave to South London’s Youngs Teflon. Mo Salah gets love in Headie One’s ‘Know Better’, Jimmy Floyd-Hasslebaink in Big Narstie’s ‘Don’t Fuck up the Base’, Lukaku in Stormzy’s ‘Wickedskengmen4’ as well as Robbie bloody Savage (yes, really) and recent Everton managerial-escapee Carlo Ancelotti in Dru Blu’s ‘SBTV F64.’ It’s easy to see why the connection between UK rap and football is strong. All of these figures, who are overwhelmingly Black and British, are simultaneously trailblazers in their industries and use their platforms to amplify important political issues. Look no further than Rashford feeding the countries’ children or Stormzy’s 2018 Brit Award performance demanding justice for Grenfell. While this right wing, rainy little island descends further into Conservative sycophancy, these figures, from both the music and football industries, are leading lights in holding the corrupt sect at Number 10 to account.
“What about Guitar bands?” I hear you cry. There’s a rich vein of football history here. The Fall’s ‘Theme from Sparta Prague’ sounds like it should be a novelty hit based on its title. However, the rambling drone of Mark E. Smith’s distinctive Mancunian drawl elevates this one above the usual fair. ‘We live on blood, We are Sparta F.C’ is straight from the stands, while references to imaginary rivalries with Galatasaray and Chelsea mark this out as a punchy, post-punk treat. Despite its title, Johnny Flynn’s track ‘Wayne Rooney’ features no reference to the former wunderkind (though it does have a fleeting mention of the magical George Best). As Flynn explains: "I wrote some words over a picture of him in the newspaper because it was all I had to write on and then I couldn't sing the song without seeing this big picture of Wayne Rooney staring up at me. And somehow the words seemed like they could have been sung by him..." It’s a beautiful track and one that’s enhanced by the fact the lyrics were first written on Wayne’s massive head.
Often playing thoughtfully on the connection between the heartbreak of lost football fixtures and the heartbreak of lost love, cult indie-pop legends Los Campesinos are prime candidates for some of the best footballing lyrics. Gareth David, the band’s lead singer and prophetic lyricist has a back catalogue of incredible lines everyone else in this article should envy. Los Camp’s ‘Every Defeat a Divorce (Three Lions)’ from their 2011 album Hello Sadness is about the sheer agony of watching England fail to live up to expectations time and time again. But if you read the lyrics verbatim without listening to the track first, you’d be convinced Gareth had written the track during a time of deep personal anguish stemming from the end of a tumultuous break-up. It’s a wonderfully expressive song. Lines such as: “These three lions that were sitting on my chest, are clawing hard into my skin, as I am gasping for my breath,” evokes memories of watching nerve shredding penalty shootouts with fingers over your eyes. The main chorus taps into the innate and often blackly comic English reaction to their team consistently going out of international tournaments: “Every defeat a divorce, although I look surprised, it's par for the course I guess”. 2008’s Miserabilia echoes the collective tormented questioning of whether the England team’s eternal years of hurt will ever come to a happy end: “I've cried on ashen floors of working men's clubs '96, '98, 2000, 2002, 2004 Oh my God, will it end? Oh my God, oh my God.”
Gareth’s other references tend to be more subtle, creating an evocative and nostalgic soundscape of early 90s and 2000s Premier League darlings. “We connected like a Tony Yeboah volley” from 2013’s Glue Me is my all-time favourite football lyric, describing those initial electric flurries of early romance through the former Leeds United player Tony Yeboah’s knack for scoring outrageous long range goals. “You asked if I'd be anyone from history; Fact or fiction, dead or alive; I said I'll be Tony Cascarino, circa 1995" from All Your Kayfabe Friends is a two line love letter to the former Republic of Ireland striker. Joseph Desire-Job’s heroics in the 2004 League Cup final for Middlesbrough are the inspiration for What Death Leaves Behind: “I proofread the book of Job for the Lord/edit 1: League Cup 2004.” And then there’s the continental tributes: “Béla Guttmann of love, curse all my exes to a life of celibacy” on Let It Spill, another gorgeous track, is a reference to the two-time European cup winning former Benfica manager. A Portrait of the Trequartista as a Young Man from their 2013 album No Blues makes you wish someone would pluck up the courage to write a song about the Makélélé role.
The connection that Gareth makes between the wretched desperation of your country being dumped out of a tournament and the grievous loss that comes with a breakup is unsurprising. The ups and downs that comprise the anatomy of a modern relationship can be mirrored perfectly in tournament football. The giddy honeymoon feeling and overly-optimistic hope that comes with the pre-tournament coverage, the initial sparks of joy and ambition that accompany the group stage, the edgy trepidation of the knockout rounds, the heart-rending failure when it all goes wrong and finally, the post-tournament fall out and blame game. It’s a universal feeling. Perhaps as football fans we should ground ourselves in realism and start warbling out Every Defeat a Divorce or Miserabilia before games. In fact, scrap that, let's plump for hope. There’s always hope.
Will’s Alternative Euros Playlist:
Dreams of a Distant Journey - Navy Blue
Post Panic – Navy Blue
Roy Keane - Brame and Hamo
Thiago Silva - Dave & AJ Tracey
Behind Barz – Wretch 32
Know Better – Headie One
Wayne Rooney – Johnny Flynn
Every Defeat aDivorce – Los Campesinos
A Portrait of the Trequartista as a Young Man – Los Campesinos
Glue Me – Los Campesinos
Theme from Sparta FC – The Fall
All I Want for Christmas is a Dukla Prague Away Kit – Half Man Half Biscuit
Tony Pulis – Goldie Lookin’ Chain
Class of 92 – Lisene
Sexuality – Billy Bragg
Each week we will share some tracks that the contributers to Laughing Stock currently have on heavy rotation. You can follow the rolling playlist on Apple or Spotify.
ICYMI: More from Laughing Stock
Edition 11 - Rich Walker on boring anniversary pieces
Edition 10 - Connah Roberts on culture wars, and Kes
Edition 9 - Rich Walker on trains, music, music on trains, and HS2
Edition 8 - Connah Roberts channeling Adiran Chiles on Karaoke
Edition 7 - Rich Walker on nihilism in music
Edition 6 - Connah Roberts on producers of imagination
Edition 5 - Sam Hartford on Spotify’s all seeing eye
Edition 4 - Rich Walker on how amazing organ music is
Edtion 3 - Will Palmer on Music as Muscle Memory
Edition 2 - Connah Roberts on Arctic Monkeys and Quantitative Easing
Edition 1 - Rich Walker on Dua Lipa and the new pop vanguard