IT WAS TWENTY YEARS AGO TODAY:
Two Decades of Hope and Passion,
Stories and Protest Songs with New Model Army
by Tim Frommer
Just give me some place where I can go
There was a gathering of the tribe in late December in London. New Model Army played two nights
(reprised a few days later in Germany) to celebrate their twentieth year of passionate
music-making in front of their equally passionate fans. As singer/songwriter/force of nature
Justin Sullivan said from the stage on the second night at London's Astoria Theatre, "this isn't
a farewell or a reunion." Formed in the Northern English town of Bradford, New Model Army came
into being at the dawn of Dame Maggie's Iron rule. Look who's lasted longer.
Take away our idols
Across two nights: four-and-a-half hours of music; 57 songs with nary a repeat
And all the battles leave their scars
The crowd was a wonderful mix of middle aged couples, Goths, aging hippies, football-supporting
lads, women wearing anything from leather pants to thrift-store remainders, people who looked
I cannot seem to lose this stain
For English history scholars, the origin of the band's moniker is familiar: the name given to
Oliver Cromwell's fighting force in the mid-1600s after the ousting of King Charles I left
England without a monarchy for the sole time in modern history. The raw melody men, as the band
You said, "Give me Liberty or give me death"
Sullivan's writing inspiration is as varied as the crowd who sang every word: history, Alfred,
Lord Tennyson, his own near-death experience nearly a decade ago, scores of letters he's
received from friends, acquaintances and fans through the years, one's self-imposed burden of
familial expectations, critical social observation, his natural surroundings and the roads
that crisscross England.
We could spend our whole lives waiting for some thunderbolt to come
The music has continually evolved and looked back on itself for further inspiration. Originally
a trio, New Model Army was a three-headed monster led by Rob Heaton's aggressive drumming (the
track "225" from Thunder and Consolation was named for the beats per minute in the song), the
Well we talk about saving the world now, Eddie
Following the course that a majority of their shows have taken since the first "...and nobody
else" nights in '97, the band started each night with about a 40-minute set of acoustic-driven,
modest-tempoed songs. Then returned for a more raucous electric set and encore. Justin started
the proceedings by himself and was joined incrementally by his mates until they were full
Let it not be said that everything must die
Saying a band is "fan-friendly" is as overused as the term "musical genius." From the beginning,
NMA has had a special relationship with those who come to see them perform. For each tour, a
season ticket is available at a vastly discounted price than the sum total of the individual gig
Forget all the lies, forget all the trouble
The distance traveled is not easily measured in time or miles. At the pace of today's world,
twenty years is longer than an eternity and an anniversary worth marking by special occasion.
For a merry clutch of vagabonds, the pressures of this world were cast away for a few hours. A
renewed sense of brother- and sisterhood to make the fight -- be it personal, local, political
or global -- a shared cause. And still the song remains the same.
We are lost, we are freaks Artists l Essays l The List l Sites & Sounds New Issue l Best Of l Fave Links l About Us
Where I don't have to justify myself
Swimming out alone against this tide
Looking for family, looking for tribe
Take away our faith
Take away our hatred
And put us in this vacuum
Then say be yourself, please yourself
Express yourself some more
(still leaving more than half the catalog unperformed); a return of Mark Feltham to
reprise his harmonica from the Ghost of Cain era, and augment newer songs; and the
lamented no-show of violinist Ed Alleyne-Johnson -- whose signature sound was gamely
approximated by the crowd during a spirited rendition of "Vagabonds," one of 57 such tunes
that the audience took as personal anthems.
and the gods of Fate still laughing at us
I always thought that it was worth what it cost
as if they had just come from their new economy jobs, and those with pink Mohawks. To say
nothing of the copious amounts of inked flesh that could have made the assembly a tattooing
convention. I heard people speaking German, French, Italian and at least one bloke with
American-accented English. Big tent? You bet.
When I wash my hands
One world is rising
One world is dying
And one has got its precious head
Buried in the sand
is occasionally anagrammically rendered, can be considered a renegade force of their own in the
despotism of the music industry. After a decade on Capitol/EMI, they opted for an ill-fated
experiment with Epic in 1993 that has coincided with their last appearances on North American
shores and on a major label. In the interim, they thrived. The year 2000 culminated a
magnificently prolific three-year stretch that included the release of two new studio albums
and two double-album live sets from the band and splinter traveling collective Red Sky
Coven all released on their own.
Now you got both
What do you want next?
Through them he's woven a songbook encouraging free thinking, social
justice, a more independent England (especially from America's cultural and political
imperialism), civil disobedience and a necessity for one's actions to speak at least as loudly
as one's words. The band uncompromisingly let the world know that only stupid bastards use
heroin, years before it became the scourge of the Pacific Northwest. To date, I don't believe
anyone has disagreed with Sullivan's interest in learning one significant phrase in every
language he can: "the only good fascist is a dead fascist." On the two bitter, winter nights
in London, money was collected at each gig for Shelter, an organization that assists the
homeless.
We could spend out whole lives waiting for some justice to be done
Unless we make our own.
unique lead riffs on bass played by Stuart Morrow and Sullivan's muscular guitar. Through the
years, folk elements came to the fore as Justin played more acoustic and Ed's eerie electric
violin was in stark contrast to anything found on pop records. Keyboards, harmonica and
occasional samples filtered their way through the records as the years ticked by. They're not
easy to pigeonhole; perhaps a hallmark of longevity. The line-up has, unsurprisingly, changed
since the earliest days. Heaton recently gave up his seat behind the drums to Michael Dean
after 15+ years of the crucible of band dynamics and a serious health concern. Morrow left the 
band early and current bassist Nelson has now nearly outserved all of his predecessors combined.
Multi-talented Dean White plays keyboards exclusively on stage. Dave Blomberg has been playing
lead guitar and recording with Justin for at least six years.
It's our vanity gone mad
She'll survive us all perfectly well
When we're all long buried and dead
Clever monkeys with technology
fathom five. That a bunch of middle-aged men could bring the rock with such ferocity should
put to rest any questions of the limitations of age. The old mixed fluidly with the new: "No
Rest," from '84, was directly followed by "No Pain," written over a decade later. A reading of
the new cryptic poem of a car crash, "Leeds Road 3 a.m.," punctuated with a deafening racket
from Dean's samples, was balanced by the beautiful "Space" that includes an excerpt from
astronaut Thomas Stafford's recollection at gazing down at Mother Earth.
Without some mark made of its passing.
prices. The fan club routinely sells out. A wide variety of merchandise changes frequently, is
extremely affordable and features the recognizable intricate Celtic knot and zoomorphic design
artwork of Joolz, Sullivan's longtime partner. A comprehensive official web site includes a
lively message board and also contains links to the more prominent fan-maintained web sites.
Forget all the things that I've done
And please believe like I still believe
The best is yet to come, the truth is yet to come
We are crippled, we are weak
We are the heirs, we are the true heirs to all the world.
