Creativity ought to be free for all

Hello. I'm Chris and I'll be writing a column in this spot until I run out of things that grind my gears or they ask me to stop.

I'm a songwriter by trade, living in Brighton. I'll try not to boff on about the music world too often - especially when there's so much other culture to roll around in - but I might as well kick off with it and get one bugbear out of the way.

It's when the interviewer says to me some variation of: "Politics and music don't mix. Discuss."

I sigh and launch into a long-winded history of the venerable tradition of protest singing, before stopping myself mid-sentence.
This time, for once, I suddenly think of a different approach. "Can't anyone just write about anything?" I ask. "Surely, songwriters just write about whatever comes into their head. Limiting that… well, isn't that fascism?"

But actually, no, we can't just write about anything and it's becoming increasingly, frighteningly unclear what the limits are.

Earlier this year, my British record label boss decided not to carry copies of my last EP release into the US, because he was nervous that US customs might have a problem with them. It had never crossed my mind, but he had a good point.

On the CD, there is some gun and gravestone imagery, as well as the lyrics printed inside. And, although they're not hate-fuelled, they are admittedly complex and what my producer calls "morally cloudy." Of course, that's what creativity is about. It's not tidy.

In Britain, we actually imprisoned self-styled "lyrical terrorist" poet Samina Malik, who wrote her nasty verses about beheading people while working at WH Smith's Heathrow branch.

Alright, so she's got some ridiculous views. But, unless she's building a bomb, you don't lock her up, you laugh her offstage.

If anything, sticking her in prison will legitimise her work, further radicalise her and certainly blur the boundaries between the creative acts which she's been criminalised for and any destructive acts in the future.

The war waged last year by Brighton Council and the Green Party on homophobic lyrics in songs - especially the violent "murder music" performed by some reggae and Caribbean dancehall acts - is another example.

They had a local music venue threatened with closure unless it cancelled a gig by Jamaican artist Buju Banton. They then set up a new ASBO-style system whereby police could close down an event in response to even a single complaint about the material being performed.

Today, lyrics by Banton and other acts such as Beenie Man, Elephant Man and Tok are technically "banned" in Brighton and Hove.

For me, this was so casually oppressive, as well as strategically stupid, that I found myself firmly on the other side.

For a start, the one place that homophobic artists should come to is Brighton, where they'd be confronted by gay daily life as a healthy normality as soon as they left the A23.

Moreover, you never weaken an opinion by oppressing its expression. You merely entrench it and potentially encourage a feeling of wronged victimhood among the very people who need their opinions challenged.

One defence was that these artists go beyond hate-speech and actively encourage violence. Well, ignoring the misunderstanding of the way that language is used in a different culture's lyrics - just as in hip hop - this still moves ominously towards diverting responsibility from the real criminal - the one who raises a hand, rather than a voice.

Homophobes exist, just like racists exist and sexists exist. Should they not create at all? Should they lie in their creativity? If they're creating, they're thinking - even if it is, at this point, at a base level.

At some point in the future, there is potential for grace in what they do. Allow them to move through it and they may get there.
But oppress them or kick them out of your town and you're no better than they are.