On A Mission From God

By Joe Kavanagh

Whether it was the surreptitious songs of African slaves in the cotton fields of southern States or the more overt message of millions on the march to the lyrics of John Lennon, music has always traditionally proven to be a useful tool of protest. Having said that, perhaps at no other time in the history of recorded music has it been so conspicuously absent from the movements of change, as musicians no longer seem willing to tackle - or worse still, to care - about the major issues affecting our globe today. Where once they gave us songs capable of rousing nations and mobilizing the masses, they now provide us with lurid paparazzi fodder and smug shoulder-rubbing with even smugger politicians. Not since hip hop came blazing out of the ghettos in the 80s has music truly threatened to do anything other than reinforce the status quo. Even acts like Rage Against The Machine, laudable as they were/are, saw the weight of their ideas somehow hamstrung by the fact that they seemed to be polished by the very machine their manifesto purported to revile. In this time of global strife, Darfur and the Iraq War, the musical voices of protest lie silent, claiming that the listening public no longer cares what a musician has to say about politics, while music fans simultaneously wonder if there ever will be, or can be, another Guthrie, another Dylan or another Marley. Let's face it, it's a pretty sad state of affairs when the Dixie Chicks are considered to be one of the world's most provocative protest bands.

Now one man in the UK intends to change all that, driven by a zeal so infectious that it provoked one journalist to remark: 'Ten minutes with him and you believe music can change a man's life. Twenty minutes and you believe music can change the world.' After 18 months of rumor, rumblings and hype, the 'Reverend' John McClure and his band The Makers will finally come under the full gaze of public scrutiny when they release their debut album, The State Of Things, next week. For McClure, it could never have been any other way.

John McClure was born a quarter century ago in the formerly depressed northern English steel town of Sheffield, and was never anything less than precocious. From his earliest days he was an intense child, struggling with universal concepts, while most cared more about where their next piece of candy was coming from or whether they had any homework. With a father who was an avid fan of funk, soul and all things Bob Marley, McClure was instilled with a love of music, but Marley remains his greatest influence because the reggae great managed to so effortlessly suffuse music, politics and social change into a profoundly potent blend.

By his early teens, McClure and a group of friends gathered to form, Judan Suki, a musical collective made up of over 20 local musicians, that at one time included current members of the Arctic Monkeys, Alex Turner and Matt Helders. In fact, 14-year-old, Alex Turner, was so taken with the 18-year-old, McClure, that the latter would become somewhat of a mentor to his young friend, and the individual whom most people claim was the true inspiration for the Arctic Monkeys distinctive take on indie music. It was also around this time that he picked up the nickname, "Reverend", due to his propensity for pushing his eloquently formed opinions down the throats of friends, he used as soundboards for his many theories on life. Judan Suki was eventually whittled down to five members, but despite their status as local legends, McClure was convinced that the band were simply "not good enough" to make it on the international level and dissolved the group in late 2002. Far from killing his dream of having a career in music, his brief experience only convinced McClure that it was the right path for him, as he continued to scribble down song lyrics at every chance he got. McClure recently claimed in an interview: "Truth be told I had a million and one ideas floating round in my mind, the sort of thing that would drive someone crazy if you did nothing about it and beavered away at the 9-5 like a mouse on a wheel. And so you get to looking out of the factory or the office window and in trying to make sense of it the words just come. Tunes get written and ideas typed in outboxes and scrawled on the back of bus tickets until they're given form and become songs." A year later he formed the more provocative 1984, adding a political element to the electro-funk sound that had characterized his previous band, but it would be the actions of his young protégé that had the most profound effect on McClure's life.

In 2005 the Arctic Monkeys exploded onto the international scene with the seminal, I Bet That You Look Good On The Dancefloor, and Sheffield immediately became the hottest place on the musical map. Unconvinced that such worldly lyrics could be written by an 18-year-old, many behind the scenes in the music industry and press put their weight behind a rumor claiming that the album was written at least in part by Jon McClure.

Given the preternatural success of the Arctic Monkeys, it was hardly surprising that such a rumor was enough to provoke several labels to approach McClure with open chequebooks, offering him as much as $400,000 if could replicate the sound of the 'Monkeys. Despite being on the dole, McClure declined and instead set out with his latest incarnation: Reverend And The Makers.

By last year his gambit began paying dividends when a 9-track demo by the Reverend and company attracted national attention in the music media, with its heady mix of driving electro-funk and socially conscious lyrics. The band took in several tours of the UK, with a live show which features poetry readings between tracks, frantic energy that remains just the right side of chaos and the 6'5" Reverend in full fanciful flight (his dancing is allegedly the inspiration behind Arctic Monkey's line: "dancing like a robot from 1984"). Instead of following his fellow "New Yorkshire" cohorts down the major label route, however, McClure signed on with indie label, Wall Of Sound, after a chance meeting with label boss, Mark Jones, who has since declared Reverend And The Makers to be the "best band in the world". By May of this year his argument was given some credence with the release of the band's debut single, Heavyweight Champion Of The World, a supremely catchy, loquacious slice of groovy indie-dance, armed with an anthemic chorus that must be a sight to behold live. Think elements of Madchester meets Stereo MC's with a touch of another Sheffield great: Pulp.

Next week the secret will truly be out when The State Of Things hits shelves and the band embarks on their biggest tour to date. In typically confident fashion, the Reverend refers to the album as 'the best ever record' and whilst most are yet to share his opinion, there can be little doubt that it will be one of the biggest albums to emerge from Europe this fall. Now we will see just how potent his message is.