The most revelatory experience I had this year happened at Glastonbury, on the festival’s Saturday night. I was at the Left Field, the 1,500-capacity big top where the afternoons begin with panel discussions about politics, and the evenings are given over to music. The penultimate attraction of the day was a quartet from Leeds called English Teacher, who played for an hour, and took my breath away: not just because their music was brimming with ideas and creativity, but because it also seemed to perfectly crystallise the state of the country. As the performance went on, the crowd received it all with an increasing feeling of rapture; by the end, it felt like everyone had concluded that they were experiencing something very special indeed.
Their first album, This Could Be Texas, came out in April. Its songs do not achieve their feats with rhetoric or sloganeering, nor have much to do with party politics: their subject matter is too kaleidoscopic to be reduced to simple social or political commentary, and like the best zeitgeist-capturing musicians, English Teacher deal in poetic, impressionistic, often wonderfully strange language. The words written, sung and spoken by the singer and lyricist Lily Fontaine sometimes suggest fragments of conversations you might hear at bus stops, or in pubs or cafes, full of a sense of life having been upturned, but human beings somehow muddling on: “Shoes were bought, broken in / One new pair breaks the bank … Can a river stop its banks from bursting? Blame the council, not the rain / No preparation for the breakdown … That country is in a bad state / There’s a familiar atmosphere about the place”.
