Margaret Thatcher openly expressed her musical preference for 'How Much Is That Doggy In The Window' David Cameron, meanwhile, equally as vile, is a fan of The Killers and Mumford & Sons. It was unthinkable that the Conservative leader of the country would know you exist, let alone praise you. It would be manifest in the taper of your trousers, the shock of your hair and your sound, maybe even the facetious knot of your tie. And when you were interviewed by the NME, it was an article of faith that you would declare your leftist political credentials, probably appended with a disenfranchised complaint to the effect that none of the political parties were up to scratch. Time was, we kind of recall, when if you had an edge about you, a vital pulse that was beyond mere pop entertainment, you'd be championed by the NME. Is there even such a thing as the 'counterculture' anymore, outside of the dreams of 40-and-50-somethings brooding wistfully over their large vinyl collections? What has become of the insurrectionary spirit of rock's halcyon years, before postmodernism set in and hip ironicism usurped an older, angrier spirit of authentic rage? Where is the Doc Marten energy of the old days, of rock music as soundtrack to petrol bombs and stand-offs with cordons of crewcut police? Why, grumble some including Damon Albarn this past weekend, do pop and rock no longer seem to have a political edge? There's a sense, some reckon, of heads-down expediency among today's generation, that however tousled their hair may be or serrated their 'indie' guitar stylings, they are aspirational rather than countercultural. With a General Election looming, a question which is in danger of becoming hoary has once again reared up among columnists and more senior musicians.
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