Aimee Cliff 

School of Language: 45 review – taking on Trump with twisted indie-funk

Field Music’s David Brewis delivers a suite of deep, satirical and vitriolic songs about the US president
  
  

‘I don’t think he’s afraid. But I’m afraid’ David Brewis of School of Language.
‘I don’t think he’s afraid. But I’m afraid’ … David Brewis of School of Language. Photograph: Andy Martin

David Brewis, one half of prolific duo Field Music, recorded 45 – a satirical concept album about Donald Trump – under his School of Language moniker during a two-month hiatus from work at their Sunderland studio.

Clocking in at little over half an hour, the record is pleasingly deft – because, let’s face it, even from a songwriter as sharp as Brewis, the phrase “Donald Trump funk musical” doesn’t promise the most thrilling of listens. But by adopting various characters and tones, Brewis brings surprising depth to these short and bare-bones songs, avoiding what could be a one-note affair. He finds the twisted humour in Trump’s unsuitability for office (Lock Her Up turns the anti-Hillary chant into a harmonious, elegiac chorus), and balances it out with moments of chilling vitriol and fear (“I don’t think that he’s afraid,” Brewis intones in falsetto over a quivering bassline on Rocket Man, “… but I’m afraid”).

On Nobody Knows, Brewis swaggeringly postures: “Nobody respects women like I do”. Later, on And Even If I Did, he nods to Trump’s “locker-room talk” comment. The record captures the surreality of US politics from a place of humorous remove – Brewis himself said, “I don’t think I could do the same with Brexit. It’s too close” – but does so firmly from an incredulous British (and white, male) perspective, in which the more oppressive realities of the presidency seem as intangible and ridiculous as a musical. If only it weren’t real life.

 

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