Here’s a radical idea. Take a bunch of academics (garnered from Glasgow University) and marry them to a hotchpotch of Glasgow musicians to launch a band which seeks to portray the oft hidden underbelly of Glasgow’s radical history in song. Such is the idea behind The Tenementals, their name a tribute to the grim but also handsome stone terraces which housed the majority of Glaswegians until the modernist clearances of the 1960s.
Fuelled by a history of rebellious rock and the sloganeering of groups such as The Situationists, The Tenementals hark back to numerous antecedents. Spanish Republican songs, protest songs of the 60s and the agit punk rock of the 70s are all brought to mind here. Front man David Archibald, whose day job is Professor of Political Cinemas at the University of Glasgow, states that “While our project has academic roots, it lives and breathes as a rock band, turning fragments of the city’s radical past into provocations for radical futures. We hope the songs operate as thought bombs, provocations to think and act in a radical way.” It’s a bold claim but it’s one which is largely delivered on their debut album. The subtitle, Vol. I of VI, hints at more to come but in essence it’s kind of an in-joke, referring to Foucault’s Histoire De La Sexualité which was supposed to be followed by several other volumes.
So far, so heady. Add to this the information that the opening song, The Owl Of Minerva was partially inspired by a passage from Hegel and we’re in danger of wandering into the intellectual ivory tower from which the 1980s NME fired its barbs, when a familiarity with Derrida and Barthes was required to comprehend their singles reviews. Fear not however. From the opening blast of The Owl Of Minerva, riffing like Iggy & The Stooges in their prime, The Tenementals never forget their primary aim, to entertain. While Archibald might have Hegel’s owl in mind, the song was inspired by the fact that Glasgow’s Titan Crane (featured on the album’s cover) is sited at the end of Minerva Street. From there, he takes a flight of fancy, a bird’s (owls) eye view of Glasgow, howling out the words as he flies north, south, east and west, delivering a pyschogeographical map of the city. It’s incredibly clever but it’s also exhilarating, best listened to with the volume at 11.
While other songs share this raw and raucous approach there is a fine degree of light and shade on the album, reflected in the next song, A Passion Flower’s Lament. Sung by Jen Cunnion, it’s a gentle, Spanish inflected acoustic number as Cunnion sings from the perspective of Isidora Dolores Ibárruri Gómez otherwise known as La Pasionaria, a statue of whom resides on the banks of the Clyde in Glasgow’s city centre. Her Spanish Republican war cry, No Pasarán! is reflected in the song’s lyrics which commemorate the 65 Glaswegians who died as members of the International Brigade.
An earlier and more local rebellion is at the heart of the driving rock harmonies of Peter Pike Or Pink, the titular character being one of those who was executed for his participation in the Radical War (or Scottish Insurrection) of 1820. That his name is unsure on his memorial finds the band wondering about his life and his reasons for becoming a rebel along with a pondering on why this insurrection is not more celebrated. A more well kent rebel is at the heart of Universal Alienation (We’re Not Rats) which is about the celebrated union leader Jimmy Reid who led the Upper Clyde Shipbuilders sit in and who was elected as Rector of Glasgow University. The song features a sample of his famous inaugural speech (“a rat race is for rats, we’re not rats, we’re human beings) and opens with a grand line about his appearance at the august institution as he is described as “Robed In Ermine, seventies sideburns magisterial”.
Whether the band are inhabiting a post punk, almost Nick Cave like vibe on Pentimento, growling about the Glasgow Council’s addiction to becoming a Hollywood set on Post Production or turning a trip to Victoria Park’s prehistoric Fossil Grove into a groovy folk rock number with intimations of how short our life spans are in comparison to these 11 petrified stumps, there’s no doubt that the history, the radicalism and, indeed, the lifeblood of Glasgow’s past and present is present throughout the album.
They close with an anthem of sorts. People Make Glasgow is a slogan of course. If you approach the city centre from the south it’s hard to avoid seeing it emblazoned on the high rise building which used to be the Glasgow College of Building and Printing. The slogan was placed there when Glasgow hosted the Commonwealth Games back in 2014 although the building has been unoccupied since before then. It’s fitting then that it kicks off this litany of Glasgow history delivered with a cool yet angry rock’n’roll attitude, a fitting end to the album.
Whether Vol. 2 (or 3-6) ever appears, The Tenementals are to be congratulated for their revival of a radical Glasgow spirit. For this writer, listening to the album reminded one of the times when we named streets after Nelson Mandela and The People’s Palace was considered by Glasgow’s Tories as a hotbed of left wing subversion.
Glasgow: A History (Vol. I of VI) is available on vinyl and digitally. A CD release is in the offing. The band launch the album at Glasgow’s Oran Mor on 27th November. It’s a free gig but ticketed, you can apply for tickets here.