Here is another track from our 33rd album, Better Dead Than Red. Ragnar Redbeard is a pseudonym for a writer whose mid 20th book Might Is Right caused consternation on its first appearance. Its contents were not easily assimilated by readers who had just lived through world war two yet, ironically, that mighty conflict only serves to offer confirmation of the sentiments it contains.
The middle section contains further quotes from his book that particular inspire me. Musically, I arranged this as a pop song with a central section that includes avant garde elements. I asked Colin not to play any hi-hat or cymbals on his drum kit but concentrate purely on the skins. Fritz enjoys himself immensely on a rather battered but still serviceable horn he borrowed from Dieter Gerhard, himself a classical musician (long since retired). By the way, yes, I am aware I’ve swiped the melody of the final line of each verse in New Order and transplanted it to serve the same function here. As a conservationist I’m all in favour of recycling.
The birds used in this work are Rooks and a pair of Choughs. The latter remain the least known British member of the Corvine family (imagine Crows with bright red beaks and legs) and are found in Ireland, the extreme west coast of Wales and parts of Cornwall. We dedicate this work respectively to Boyd Rice whose work has continued to inspire us since 1990.
Might was right when Caesar bled upon the stones of Rome
and might was right when Joshua led his hordes on Jordans’ foam.
Might was right when German armies entered Paris gay.
It’s the gospel of the ancient world, the logic of today.
Sword strong races own the Earth and ride the conquerors’ car
and liberty’s never been won except by deeds of war.
Might is right when empires sink in storms of steel and flame
and it is right when weakling breeds are hunted down like game.
Then what’s the use of dreaming dreams that each shall have his own
by forceless votes of timid fools who blindly sweat and moan?
A curse is on their cankered brains; their very bones decay.
Go trace your fate in the iron game’s the logic of today.
That the strong must ever rule the weak is grim primordial law.
On the planet’s brutal threshing floor the meek are beaten straw.
Then ride to power on foemens’ necks; let nothing bar your way.
If you’re fit, you’ll rule and reign is the logic of today.
Prove you’re right by deeds of might, of splendour and renown.
If need be, march through plains of Hell to dash opponents down.
If need be, die on scaffold high in mornings misty grey,
for liberty or death is still the logic of today.
Text – Ragnar Redbeard (edited by Andy Martin). Music – Andy Martin.
Andy Martin – Vocals, Hammond Organ, Church Organ, Birds.
Fabian Fritze – Bass Guitar, Horns, ARP Synthesiser.
Colin Murrell – Drums, Moog Synthesiser.
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