Photo: Sophie Ziegler

The Elusive Ethnomusicologist Elizabeth Kinder’s monthly column

I cannot get exercised about the death of Maggie Thatcher. The reactions of people who quite frankly in my opinion should know better are another matter. “She was doing what had to be done, anyone would have done what she did in that situation. She wasn’t all bad.” Well no-one is are they? Hitler was allegedly good to his mother. What is it with the post-yuppie revisionism? And then there’s the fashion brigade, taking politics by the scruff of the neck, giving it a good shake and honing in on what really matters. All praise to her pioneering popularisation of the pussy-bow blouse, and big if not Elnett-helmet hair. Purllease… enough already! These are not things to be celebrated. There is not one person I know who doesn’t now have a less stupid or annoying haircut.

She did, however, galvanise music as political protest, creating a social glue and a society out of those pitted against her, testimony to her lie of there being no such thing – as my esteemed co-columnist Tim Chipping points out this issue, and as the wonderful Robin Denselow describes in effervescent detail in his book When The Music’s Over: The Story Of Political Pop. I was lucky enough to interview Robin for a feature you’ll find elsewhere this issue. (A brilliant thing about this job is that you get to meet people you like off the telly and ask lots of questions without appearing either rude or like a stalker.)

In my Exocet search for the truth, I asked Robin at the end of our conversation if there was anything else he’d like to tell me, any recent conflict he hadn’t been involved in, perhaps? He said that he hadn’t got into Afghanistan, they shut the border as he arrived overland from Pakistan. “They threw rocks at me though, from Afghanistan,” he added cheerfully. It made me wonder how good he is as a travelling companion and whether his lovely wife ever thought twice about going on holiday with him.

And talking about holidays, the head of the household here thinks I’m going on one shortly. I’ve explained that it isn’t a vacation, it’s an arduous fact-finding mission across southern Spain to discover the heart of flamenco, to hear the real deal (much like I did re pizzica in Puglia for fRoots last year). To explore its history and present-day meaning, its cultural relevance and resonance, its link with the land and identity and politics. Flamenco is intrinsically political, not just because of the gypsy culture it springs from, but from its popularisation by Franco, who, unlike Thatcher, noticing that there is such a thing as society saw the value in using music to promote social cohesion for his own ends.

And of course, there’s the link with the weather! It’s difficult not to think that music from sunny places where people are more inclined to live in the moment and think about what really matters with less clothes on, is going to express what’s important in life. The weather theory is something I’ve just come up with but it’s one I’m keen to explore, hopefully by being outside in it as much as possible. I’m so girlishly enthusiastic and inspired by this particular quest (‘journey of discovery’ is so over-used), I can’t tell you. It’s not a holiday but that doesn’t mean I’m not packing the sun cream. Hasta la vista (babies...!)