Let [America] Shake: What PJ Harvey’s ‘Let England Shake’ Conveys About the Rise of U.S. Neofascism
The proverbial badass is her wisest on Let England Shake, and her narration of the atrocities of English war is more pertinent for Americans than ever.
Written by Zachary Bolash
Photo courtesy of Steve Gullick
In the last two weeks, Americans, following the assassination of Charlie Kirk, have witnessed a Trump-headed media witch hunt of pundits critical of the conservative advocate. Moreover, the United States also witnessed the renaming of the U.S. Department of War to the Department of Defense, with employees cheekily tacking the ominous text of “WAR” onto the department’s walls. This squashing of political opposition and the teething of the military reek of neofascism, a set of beliefs rooted in corralling around a charismatic leader’s military. The post-World War II ideology has also fallen under artistic scrutiny, especially among artists like PJ Harvey, whose 2011 record Let England Shake founded the panic among today’s artists, liberals, and general proponents of any tenable system of democracy.
Let England Shake is Polly Jean Harvey’s eighth solo studio album. The record’s sound starkly departs from the ethereal pianos and Harvey’s signature, soft-gliding contralto of her prior release, White Chalk. Harvey transforms from a commentator to a narrator in the album, with her remarking,”I had to slowly find [a] voice, and this voice started to develop, almost taking on the role of a narrator.” Her voice and backing instruments — including the novel autoharp — are pitched up a few octaves to contemplate the atrocities of fascism with a morbid brevity, a relatable feeling for many American residents.
The eponymous track, “Let England Shake,” exemplifies this feeling. The song begins with a mischievous instrumental, evoking the sound of a backing track from an episode of “The Pink Panther.” With the contrasting percussion of a brassy snare drum and the lightweight drops of an autoharp, Harvey then slices through this melody alongside a newfound witchy timbre: “The West’s asleep / Let England shake.” From this sample alone, parallels can be drawn between the modern, well-meaning American and the opening track. Many U.S. residents may engage in their usual routines with an airiness akin to the whimsy of the autoharp — However, this is on the backdrop of a feeling of immense repression, specifically of the fascist gestures of the current administration that are more akin to the snare drum’s militaristic thumping.
Harvey expands on this feeling later in the track, tussling with lyrics that balance poetry with enigmatic references to a character named Bobby: “England’s dancing days are done / Another day, Bobby, for you to come home.” However, an immediate proclamation that Bobby is only “coming home” to announce that “indifference has won” interrupts these lyrics’ romanticism. With these lines, lucidity strikes the track and the political exigency of the record becomes clear: The record is not concerned with Harvey’s usual themes of intimacy and female rage, but instead, the mortal threat of England’s politics, what she refers to later in the track as “the fountain of death.” Here, Americans may find themselves in a similar state, where their usual routines are disrupted by a headline that reminds them of the dangers posed by the Trump administration. Suddenly, the phrase “indifference has won” morbidly rings true.
Let England Shake’s third track, “The Glorious Land,” expounds the morbid revelations imbued by the record’s opener. Harvey, alongside overlaid percussion and bugle horn interruptions, proclaims what fuels the fascist machine: war. Harvey’s narrative voice shines through when she assumes the role of a propaganda machine in her statements that her country is ploughed — “Not by iron ploughs,” but “by tanks and feet.” These lines peel back the fascist and war-obsessed governments, such as the U.S and 21st-century England, who pivoted attention from demonstrated issues to artificially create conflict through war. Such sentiment is scarily echoed near the end of the track, when Harvey calls and responds to a choir of equally witchy-sounding sopranos, “Oh, America! / Oh, England! / Oh, America! / Oh, England!” Considering contemporary American politics, these lines serve as both a warning and a refrain.
Where “Let England Shake” cruelly reminds and “The Glorious Land” exposes, the record’s culminating track, “The Colour of the Earth,” wrestles with the idea of remembrance through instrumental optimism and lyrical melancholy. The percussion and backing guitars are summery and breezy, channeling a delectable after-the-storm feeling that juxtaposes war flashbacks like, “Louis ran forward from the line / I never saw him again.” The track here captures the historic cycle of war, the rise of fascism, and the subsequent decades of regret. It is a track that blurs the American and English borders to bemoan history’s dreadful tendency to repeat itself. America may free itself from the yoke of fascism; however, the violence and death that it wrought — similar to the United Kingdom’s military campaigns — will forever haunt the American narrative. Harvey says it best in the closing lines of “The Colour of the Earth:” “[Louie] still up on that hill / 20 years on that hill / Nothing more than a pile of bones.”
Let England Shake is simultaneously a retrospective, a warning, and a precise diagnosis of American democracy. Through tracks like “Let England Shake,” “The Glorious Land,” and “The Colour of the Earth,” Harvey poignantly examines the relationship of fascism and the human consciousness, and transitively, the American condition living under the rise of neofascism.