By Laura Mojonnier
Twenty-five years into his career, Billy Bragg has solidified his position as England’s most sensitive soul, crooning about every fresh wound with a characteristic urgency that allows even his sparest compositions to engulf entire rooms. He sings his stark but tender, often overtly class-conscious folk songs with a punk rock urgency, as if Joe Strummer and Jeff Mangum fused for just long enough to cover Phil Ochs.
In the early ’80s, Bragg rarely bothered to incorporate instrumentation beyond his crudely played electric guitar, heightening the already-bleak lyrics of songs like “To Have and To Have Not” (“The factories are closing and the army’s full / I don’t know what I am going to do”) and “It Says Here” (“Those braying voices on the right of the house / Are echoed down the street of shame / Where politics mix with bingo and tits / In a strictly money and numbers game”).
As the decade progressed, Bragg began to add instruments, outside musicians, and even the occasional vocal overdub to his distinctively stripped-down style, a trend that would continue throughout his career. By 1990, he was writing full-on orchestral arrangements and collaborating with members of REM and the Smiths. While Bragg maintained his political edge, his increasingly complex compositions began to overshadow the sonorous coarseness that made his earlier work so deeply moving.