"The Labour leader selects a Northern dance classic and a football anthem for desert island discs in a list that could unite both wings of his party", the Guardian gushed in admiration of Keir Starmer in November of last year in an article, yes a full article, dedicated to his three songs of choice. The list was as considered and seemingly committee selected as one would expect from a Labour leader. First on the list was the Euro 96 England football anthem: Three Lions, an oh so subtle ode to the white working class who are rapidly losing faith in the party. Second on the list was Out on the floor by Dobie Gray, owing to its connotations of his early days in London and serving as a reminder of the MP's human relatability. Finally, Starmer included the Artists for Grenfell's cover of Bridge over troubled water, remembering of course to mention that this was a song featuring Stormzy, who his children love.
Personally, I find it depressing beyond words to believe that someone would include a football tournament anthem and a fund and awareness raising cover song for the Grenfell disaster in their top three all time songs. Clearly, this was an act of political show jumping. The inclusion of the last song, however, from its subject matter to the noted inclusion of Stormzy, opens up the question as to who's support he is courting and, more importantly, what is the modern Labour party's relationship to the demographic in question.
To understand this, we must first understand why artists like Stormzy, and Hip hop in general, can act as such an effective form of symbolism and political point scoring. Aside from the obvious racial associations of the genre, there is a relationship to class which is essential to rap's perceived authenticity. It's the reason you never hear a rapper talking about how they actually had a very pleasant childhood. The rags to riches story is implied at one point or another by every other rap artist. This is how authenticity is achieved in this genre of music, in the same way remaining disinterested in commercial success is how Rock artists have historically done so. Lastly, rap music has been enormously popular with young people for at least the past twenty years, regardless of race and social class.
In political terms, it's a demographic goldmine: Black and minority ethnic community; the working classes; and the country's youth. Three overlapping groups, all of which Labour need on board.
The relationship between the modern Labour party and these people is complicated to say the least. In fact, the New Labour approach to the working classes was largely based on disregarding them entirely. This attitude, and the logic behind it were summed up by Peter Mandelson, stating that the "preoccupation with the working class is wrong. They've got nowhere else to go". This attitude neglected the interests of the social class in which the BAME community are most present, killing two demographic birds with one disinterested, bourgeois stone. Britain's youth, meanwhile, were introduced to tuitions fees for the first time by Tony Blair's government in 2003. Growing numbers of young people were also leaving full time education to enter into a world of increasingly stagnant wages throughout the 2000s. As such, the overlap between young people and the working classes continued to grow throughout New Labour's governance.
The first signs of the party, at least nominally, paying any sort of attention to any of these groups, came with Gordon Brown, and subsequently Ed Milliband, finally making room for the term "working class" in their vocabularies throughout their respective tenures as leaders. The party's association with the UK Hip hop scene, however, came at a time when the Corbyn-led leadership were finally promoting policies which addressed some of the issues relating to these three overlapping groups. The manifesto for the 2017 election sparked a surge in support for Labour, particularly amongst young people. In the midst of this new found enthusiasm for the party, the Grime4Corbyn movement emerged. Prominent British rap artists such as Stormzy, Akala and JME publicly endorsed Jeremy Corbyn and took to social media to encouraged the formerly disillusioned youth of the country to vote, with the latter even meeting with the party leader to discuss the young vote.
While the manifesto was undoubtedly the policy-inspired catalyst for such support in youth, it was the leader himself who inspired much of the enthusiasm amongst the nation's Black and ethnic minorities. Corbyn had, for the entirety of his political career at that point, been resolutely anti-racist, from protesting apartheid to resisting the national front. He had even endeavoured himself to assisting many migrants in his constituency in their legal issues. As London rapper Akala put it in his 2017 Guardian article endorsing Corbyn: "For the first time in my adult life someone I consider to be fundamentally decent has a chance of being elected".
The gains made by Labour in that election baffled many in the media who had expected the Tories to cruise to a majority. While they ultimately fell short of being able to form a government, there was a tangible sense of optimism amongst many in the country. Riding this crest of optimism, Corbyn made a surprise appearance at Glastonbury to introduce the American rap duo Run the Jewels. The chorus of "Oh Jeremy Corbyn" to the tune of Seven Nation Army, a sound which became emblematic of that summer, rang out among the young rap fans in attendance.
Despite the newfound optimism of that summer, Labour's success was short-lived. The party soon became embroiled in an anti-semitism scandal from which they are still recovering. The Grime4Corbyn movement, meanwhile, faltered in the absence of any concerted effort to maintain this enthusiasm. Later in the year, rapper Skepta surmised the resurfacing mood of disillusionment amongst many in the black community, stating that participants in the Grime4Corbyn movement had been "used" for political gain. Indeed, the party's inability to retain this energy and support was evident in the 2019 election. The public endorsements of artists such as Stormzy and Akala were retained, but the energy and intensity of 2017 could not be recreated, with many involved in the initial movement by now echoing Skepta's views.
The results of that election were a resounding defeat for the party, leading to Corbyn's swift resignation. Thus, along with their interest in the country's BAME community, working classes and youths, Labour's flirtations with an active interest in rap music ended. Whether it had been an act of political theatre or a genuine attempt to connect with the politically disenfranchised, what was clear was that nothing had come of it. Keir Starmer was subsequently elected as leader on the back of several vague pledges to appease those voters won over in 2017. What has transpired since is a party committed to paying lip service to those three aforementioned demographics, such as Starmer's inclusion of comments about Grenfell and Stormzy in a Desert island discs article. All of which acts as a performative masking of the lack of any commitment to progressive policies for the representation of those people.