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Mr. Love And Justice | Billy Bragg values doubt and skepticism, but he can’t stand cynics.

BILLY BRAGG
w/ Ron Hawkins. Winspear Centre (9720-102 Ave). Tue, Nov 24 (8pm). Tickets available through the Winspear box office (428-1414).

As Billy Bragg stares out the window of his hotel room in St. John’s, Newfoundland, he muses on the empty street in front of him. It’s sealed off now for the Olympic torch relay that will eventually wind its way through to Vancouver (“Man, that’s a long run,” Bragg dryly notes), but yesterday the English singer/songwriter was happily wandering around them for a haircut and a trip to the museum. Not only did he enjoy the experience of hanging out with the barbershop denizens (“They sound just like the old men in the West of Ireland”) and checking out a bit of local history, Bragg simply enjoyed soaking up the culture in what he considers to be Canada’s archetypal province.

How many top-echelon rock musicians take an interest in the places they play? Not a lot, but close to 30 years after his solo debut, Life’s a Riot With Spy vs Spy, Bragg is still curious about the world. His championing of the underdog also always shows, especially when a writer makes the error of asking whether he enjoys playing out-of-the-way cities while on tour.

Billy Bragg: Out of the way? Oh, you mean like Edmonton?

SEE Magazine: Okay, okay — point taken.

BB: [Laughs.] No, I get your point. See, some people think that if they play Toronto, Montreal, and Vancouver that they’ve “done” Canada. That’s ridiculous; I want to play as many of these sorts of places as I can.

SEE: You’ve really seemed to fire up people’s imaginations with your initiative Jail Guitar Doors, where you and a number of other musicians have worked to provide inmates with guitars as a means of rehabilitation.

BB: People all over have been inspired, including someone from Edmonton [local musician Dennis Lenarduzzi]. He wrote and asked, “What’s your plan, how are you going to do this?” My idea always was that it’s a local thing; there’s always a local prison, and I have no idea about it, but if we hook up, maybe I can give ideas on how to make it work. That’s the plan for Edmonton — that we’ll get together and discuss how Dennis can go about putting this together here. It’s happening in the States too, with Wayne Kramer, who I had done a gig with. It’s very fitting, too, because he’s mentioned in the actual Clash song “Jail Guitar Doors”: “Let me tell you ’bout Wayne and his deals of cocaine.” He knows jail. A week after talking with him, he rung me up and said he wanted to be part of it as well.

SEE: This may seem like a ridiculous question, but how is it that you manage to maintain such a positive outlook? I’ve spoken with you three times now since the ’80s, and not once have you ever seemed down about the world or your place in it.

BB: Ah, you’ve struck a nerve here. See, I’ve come to realize that cynicism is the enemy. Not capitalism, not conservatism, but cynicism. It came as a revelation later in life, actually. Understand I don’t mean doubtful, or skeptical, because these are necessary things, I mean giving up. A cynic is someone who has given up and wants you to give up as well. My faith is in humanity, that people will do the right thing given half a chance. We concentrate on the bad apples so much that we don’t see the people who are actually doing positive things. We can’t always dwell on the bad things; we have to do something about them. To be blunt, don’t whinge about problems, do something about them. If you’re just going to whinge, then fuck off, you know? And this is coming from someone who has to be constantly checking his own cynicism.

SEE: From Talking With the Taxman About Poetry onward, you’ve managed to juggle politics with a surprising aptitude for love songs. Your fans are often divided about this, but on the best of your records it makes for excellent tension. In some ways, your model seems to be as much Marvin Gaye or Curtis Mayfield as Pete Seeger.

BB: I know exactly what you mean, and I really think that my last record, Mr. Love and Justice, is the closest to a soul record I’ve ever recorded. You know, if you check the record stores you’ll sometimes find me in the alternative section, sometimes folk, sometimes ’80s, whatever that is, or pop-rock. But actually I’ve always wanted to be in the soul music section.