Bhangra Blues

It was both the stomping beat of the the dhol and the Romance of Bulleh and Waris Shah that Punjabis brought with them when, from the late 1950s they came to the UK. These were optimistic young men, but as with those aboard the Empire Windrush, no land of milk and honey awaited them. They worked hard in the shipyards of Scotland, the Mill towns of the North, the factories and foundrys of the Midlands and the shops and businesses of the South. In the Post War period the working class British had little notion of the history of the Empire or the ambitions of the Commonwealth. Racism was common, urban isolation and despair was compounded by long hours of sweat and toil in the factories and foundry’s of the UK industrial heartland. Young men worked seven day shifts and spent whatever little spare time they had coming together to play cards, cook, eat, and sing folk and film songs. It was in this melancholy world that UK Bhangra and Folk music developed. The lyrics they sang reflected their hopes and fears; the optimism of Dev Thrikeanwala, the sadness of Shiv Kumar Batalvi. Batalvi was the first victim and icon of Bhangra Folk, dying young of alcoholism and a broken heart. His presence is felt in the music of early Bhangra/Folk bands Bhujangy and Anari Sangeet. Their songs give voice to a contemporary Punjabi homesick blues that lyrically has not been bettered. Mere Kabran Te (On My Gravestone), Pabban Vich Jane Chad De (Give Up Going To Pubs) and the classic Bhabiye Akh Lar Gaye  (Caught Sight Of) paved the way for others to follow.