1974 Paper Lace: Billy, Don't Be A Hero

The first time I heard Wheatus's 'Teenage Dirtbag' on the radio, I hated it it. Simply hated it. The whiny, self pitying tone of the lyrics, the angsty, pseudo punk power chords on the chorus - American emo watered down with sardonicism, it was a tune tailor made to get right on my tits. But then toward the end, when Brendan B Brown starts singing about Iron Maiden tickets in a high pitched girly voice, that single quirk of unpredictable originality pulled the scales off my eyes and I fell in love with it.

And now, listening to Paper Lace's take on 'Billy, Don't Be A Hero', my initial reaction was similar to the above (and yes, I can remember this from 1974). Those military drum fills, the chirpy 'I Was Kaiser Bill's Batman' whistles and that tin twang of a backing guitar all conspire to fry my patience in a pan of quirky novelty. But when the chorus kicks in and a bloke starts singing in a girly voice from the point of view of Billy's would be wife, then my hatred is made complete. Squared even. Because unlike 'Teenage Dirtbag' it doesn't hit you as a quirky surprise. Not a bit of it - you expect the song to travel down a road of literal interpretation because that route has already been signposted in the mock 'John Brown's Body' cavalry plod of the music. I'm afraid I didn't like this song back in the seventies and I still don't like it now.

Which is odd really because I'm usually quite partial to songs that tell a story, but this tale of tragedy set in the US Civil War fails to engage on just about any level other than the trite. Arguably, any song about a hundred year old foreign conflict written and played by Brits was always onto a loser in terms of authenticity, but the sight of the band all dressed up in full Yankee uniforms performing it on TV (yes, I remember that from 1974 too) places further distance between the listener and any emotional response. It turns the whole spectacle into a gimmick, a fancy dress party (check out the sleeve picture) with the song playing the band again rather than them stamping any identity of their own on it.*

The shrug of indifference that closes the final verse: "I heard his fiancée got a letter, that told how Billy died that day. The letter said that he was a hero, she should be proud he died that way. I heard she threw the letter away" tries to pack an emotional punch by providing a 'Usual Suspects' style twist to the tale but it's squandered in it's hurried telling. And with Billy and his woman already little more than cardboard cut-outs, it doesn't pay off - the best 'death ballads' need characters you can actually feel something for and, to be honest, I felt far more pathos at the demise of Bennie Hills 'Ernie' than young Billy.

'Billy, Don't Be A Hero' is nothing more than a pop tune masquerading as something older and wiser, something sepia toned with a wizened message for the young. But it's too corny to engage with with any seriousness (and that aforementioned girl vocal is corn on the cob personified), but not corny enough to laugh along with. Which means it ends up pleasing nobody. Not me anyway.

* If you want to hear a fine example of the exact opposite of this, then you could do no better than The Band's 'The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down', a song so authentic you could believe Robbie Robertson actually fought against General Sherman. The cover of this single seems to be aiming for a similar vibe that The Band's sophomore album achieved, but in trying so hard they boot the ball well over the crossbar.