From Halloween to Bonfire Night – and twelve songs worth discoveringWELCOME TO the first Midweek Song List of November!
We’ve just had Halloween, which fell on Saturday 31 October, and tomorrow brings Guy Fawkes Night. Two celebrations separated by just five days, but with very different histories.
Here’s a question for our readers. Which did you celebrate as a child?
For many of us who grew up in England or Wales, Bonfire Night was the big event. There were fireworks, sparklers, bonfires and the traditional Guy sitting on top of the flames. Children collected pennies for the Guy, and local communities organised displays. It was a genuine part of the autumn calendar.
Halloween, by comparison, seemed a much smaller affair. Certainly, the American-style celebration involving pumpkins, elaborate costumes and trick-or-treating was nowhere near as prominent as it is today.
Yet things were different in Scotland and Ulster, where Halloween customs have a much longer and more visible history.
There’s a fascinating historical reason for this. Halloween draws heavily upon Samhain, the ancient Gaelic festival marking the end of the harvest and the beginning of winter. It was associated with the belief that the boundary between the living and the dead became less secure. Bonfires, disguises, games and rituals were all part of the tradition.
Scotland developed its own customs, including guising, where children dressed up and visited neighbours, often performing a song, joke or poem in exchange for a treat. Turnips were carved into lanterns long before American pumpkins became fashionable.
In Ireland, Halloween remained closely connected with older folk traditions, food, games and beliefs about spirits.
England and Wales weren’t completely without Halloween customs, of course. But Guy Fawkes Night, established following the failed Gunpowder Plot of 1605, became the more prominent popular celebration in many communities.
I find it interesting that Halloween, which has such deep roots in the British Isles, has returned to much of England in a heavily Americanised form.
There’s nothing necessarily wrong with cultural exchange. Traditions change. They borrow from one another. But I do wonder what we lose when older local customs are replaced by something more commercial and standardised.
And why has Bonfire Night declined in some areas while Halloween has grown?
If you remember celebrating either occasion as a child, especially in Scotland, Ulster, England or Wales, we’d be interested in hearing about it.
That’s one of the things Counter Culture is interested in: not simply entertainment, but the history and traditions which help explain who we are.
Now, onto the music.
As usual, we’ve brought together a mixture of styles. There’s traditional Oi!, modern punk, grunge, doom metal, electronic post-punk, classic rock and some more reflective material.
We make no apologies for the variety.
Too much of modern culture is organised into neat little compartments. We’re told what sort of person listens to particular music, what opinions go with certain genres and which artists supposedly belong to which audience.
We don’t see why anyone should accept those restrictions.
Good music is good music. Sometimes it’s angry, sometimes melancholy, sometimes ridiculous. Occasionally it’s all three.
Our readers are quite capable of deciding what they like without being told what they’re supposed to enjoy.
So, whether you’re an old punk, a heavy-metal enthusiast, a lover of classic pop or simply curious about something unfamiliar, there’s plenty here to investigate.
Enjoy!
THE SONGS
Central Force – ‘Lords of Iron’ (2026)
We begin with something rather different: a relatively new American power-metal band drawing inspiration from a video game.
Central Force released ‘Lords of Iron’ in May 2026 as their debut single. The song is inspired by the Iron Lords, legendary warriors from the science-fiction world of Destiny, particularly the game’s Rise of Iron expansion.
For readers unfamiliar with gaming culture, this might sound like an odd starting point for a heavy-metal song. But when you think about it, the connection is perfectly natural. Heavy metal has always been attracted to heroic mythology, battles, ancient warriors, fantastical kingdoms and larger-than-life struggles.
Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden, Manowar and countless others have drawn on literature, history, folklore and fantasy. Video games are simply another source of modern mythology.
Musically, Central Force embrace the traditional power-metal approach: muscular guitars, dramatic melodies, an epic sense of scale and an atmosphere that suggests the fate of civilisation may depend on the next guitar solo.
At just over eight minutes, it is hardly designed for the attention span of someone flicking through fifteen-second social media clips. Good.
The band have explained that the song grew from their enthusiasm for the Destiny games, and even received recognition from the game’s developer, Bungie.
It’s an ambitious debut. There is something refreshing about musicians making a record because they genuinely love a fictional world and want to celebrate it, rather than because somebody in marketing thinks it might appeal to a fashionable demographic.
Heavy metal has always been wonderfully resistant to embarrassment. Long may that continue.
Grade 2 – ‘Graveyard Island’ (2019)
Grade 2 come from Ryde on the Isle of Wight, and they’re one of the more convincing examples of younger musicians keeping the spirit of British street punk alive.
The trio formed in 2013, taking inspiration from Oi!, punk rock and traditional rock ‘n’ roll. Their line-up consists of Sid Ryan on bass and vocals, Jack Chatfield on guitar and vocals, and Jacob Hull on drums.
‘Graveyard Island’ appeared on their 2019 album of the same name, produced by Tim Armstrong of Rancid.
It’s a cracking record, full of energy and frustration.
The song concerns growing up on the Isle of Wight, a place which attracts tourists and enjoys a reputation for picturesque scenery but can feel very different to young people trying to build a future there.
Grade 2 have explained that they are proud of their home, but frustrated by the shortage of opportunities, the decline of live-music venues and the difficulty of making something happen.
That tension gives the song its character.
It’s easy for outsiders to romanticise island life. They see the beaches, the countryside and the holiday atmosphere. Young people living there may see limited employment, expensive transport and the prospect of leaving home if they want to pursue their ambitions.
The same complaint could be made about dozens of towns across Britain.
What I particularly like is that Grade 2 haven’t adopted the sanitised, carefully packaged sound sometimes sold as contemporary punk.
There’s melody, certainly, but there’s also aggression and urgency. It sounds like a young band genuinely impatient with its surroundings.
And that’s exactly what punk ought to sound like.
Manic Street Preachers – ‘La Tristesse Durera (Scream to a Sigh)’ (1993)
This is one of the Manic Street Preachers’ finest songs, and certainly one of their most interesting politically.
Released in 1993 on Gold Against the Soul, it takes its title from words associated with Vincent van Gogh’s final days. The French phrase means that sadness will endure.
But the song isn’t really about the painter.
Instead, it considers the treatment of war veterans, particularly the contrast between public ceremonies celebrating their sacrifices and the neglect many experience afterwards.
It’s a subject which has always troubled me.
Governments are very good at organising commemorations, delivering speeches and standing solemnly before memorials. The same governments are frequently less enthusiastic about providing proper support to veterans dealing with disability, poverty, trauma or the ordinary difficulties of civilian life.
The Manics understood that contradiction.
Nicky Wire has explained that he wanted to write sympathetically about war heroes, while Richey Edwards contributed to the song’s distinctive lyrical character.
What makes the recording so effective is the contrast between its serious subject and its surprisingly accessible musical arrangement.
There’s an almost danceable groove underneath James Dean Bradfield’s soaring vocal and guitar work. Sean Moore’s drumming gives it momentum, while the bassline provides much of its emotional weight.
The Manics could sometimes be accused of trying too hard to appear intellectually provocative. They certainly enjoyed slogans, political quotations and literary references.
But here the intelligence serves a genuinely moving human story.
And the song remains particularly relevant whenever the annual season of remembrance comes around.
We should remember those who served. We should also ask how we treat the living.
My Dying Bride – ‘The Cry of Mankind’ (1995)
From the Manics’ political melancholy, we descend into something much darker.
My Dying Bride emerged from Yorkshire in 1990 and became one of the most important bands in British doom metal, alongside groups such as Paradise Lost and Anathema.
Doom metal is sometimes dismissed by people who have never listened to it as slow, miserable music for individuals who ought to get out more.
There is, admittedly, plenty of misery.
But at its best, the genre explores grief, suffering, love, mortality and spiritual doubt with an intensity that more cheerful forms of music rarely attempt.
‘The Cry of Mankind’ comes from the band’s 1995 album The Angel and the Dark River.
It’s an extraordinary piece, built around a repeating guitar figure which gradually becomes almost hypnotic. The music develops slowly, with layer upon layer of sound creating an oppressive, mournful atmosphere.
Aaron Stainthorpe’s vocals are central to the effect. Rather than relying entirely on the harsh growling associated with extreme metal, the band were increasingly exploring cleaner, more expressive singing.
The result is music that sounds both intimate and monumental.
This isn’t something to play in the background while washing the dishes. It demands attention and a willingness to enter its rather bleak world.
Yet there is beauty in the arrangement, particularly in the contrast between its delicacy and crushing heaviness.
I sometimes think modern entertainment is too frightened of sorrow. Everything must be uplifting, empowering or reassuring.
My Dying Bride make no such promises.
They understand that sadness is part of the human condition and that music can confront it without pretending to offer an easy cure.
A magnificent piece of British doom metal.
The Osmonds – ‘Crazy Horses’ (1972)
The Osmonds? In the same songlist as My Dying Bride and Grade 2?
Absolutely.
One of the pleasures of putting these selections together is challenging expectations, and ‘Crazy Horses’ is a splendid example.
Most people associate the Osmonds with immaculate teeth, coordinated outfits, wholesome family entertainment and the extraordinary popularity of Donny Osmond.
But in 1972 the brothers released a record that sounds startlingly aggressive even today.
‘Crazy Horses’ is driven by a pounding rhythm, distorted guitar and an extraordinary electronic effect that resembles a horse screaming through a badly maintained industrial machine.
There’s something wonderfully excessive about it.
Even more surprising is the subject matter.
The song is an environmental protest, with the horses representing the horsepower of cars and the pollution created by increasing road traffic.
Members of the band have confirmed that interpretation, making it an early example of a mainstream pop act tackling ecological concerns.
The recording demonstrated that the Osmonds were capable of considerably heavier music than their public image suggested.
It’s tempting to imagine the confusion of parents who bought the record expecting another cheerful family singalong.
Instead, they got something approaching hard rock, complete with theatrical vocals and a riff that wouldn’t have embarrassed a much tougher-looking band.
The record also exposes the absurdity of judging music by image.
Had a band with long hair, leather jackets and a more disreputable reputation released exactly the same recording, it might well be celebrated as an early hard-rock classic.
Give the Osmonds their due. This one rocks.
R.E.M. – ‘Everybody Hurts’ (1992)
Few songs have expressed compassion quite as simply or effectively as ‘Everybody Hurts’.
It appeared on R.E.M.’s 1992 album Automatic for the People, one of the great alternative-rock albums of the period, and was subsequently released as a single.
R.E.M. began in Athens, Georgia, in 1980, emerging from the American college-rock scene. Their early records were often mysterious, full of jangling guitars and Michael Stipe’s sometimes indistinct vocals.
By the early 1990s they had become enormously successful without entirely abandoning their independent character.
‘Everybody Hurts’ represented a more direct approach.
The song was intended to offer reassurance to people experiencing despair, particularly young listeners struggling with isolation or thoughts of suicide.
Bill Berry played an important part in composing the music, while the string arrangement by John Paul Jones of Led Zeppelin adds considerable emotional power.
What makes it work is its simplicity.
There are no elaborate metaphors or attempts to disguise the message behind clever literary references. Michael Stipe sings with an unusual directness, and the music gradually builds around him.
Some critics have found the song excessively sentimental. I can understand that reaction. It is certainly earnest.
But there’s nothing inherently wrong with sincerity.
We live in a culture where irony and cynicism are often mistaken for intelligence. Sometimes a straightforward expression of sympathy is more valuable than the sharpest sarcastic observation.
The accompanying video, showing people trapped in a traffic jam and revealing their private thoughts, reinforces the idea that suffering is often hidden beneath ordinary appearances.
It’s not a song I would necessarily want to hear every day. But when it matters, it really matters.
Rose Tattoo – ‘We Can’t Be Beaten’ (1982)
After R.E.M.’s gentle encouragement, it’s time for something rather less restrained.
Rose Tattoo emerged from the Australian pub-rock scene during the 1970s. Fronted by Angry Anderson, they developed a hard, blues-based sound built around Peter Wells’s slide guitar and the kind of attitude that made polite society distinctly uncomfortable.
They weren’t interested in appearing respectable.
Their music belonged to crowded pubs, battered amplifiers, sweat, tattoos and people who had worked all week and wanted something loud enough to shake the walls.
‘We Can’t Be Beaten’ appeared on their 1982 album Scarred for Life.
It’s a simple song, almost brutally so.
The message is collective defiance: stand together, refuse to surrender and don’t allow yourself to be pushed around.
There’s something about that which naturally appeals to anyone involved in trade unionism.
Of course, a song about sticking together isn’t the same as a political manifesto. Rose Tattoo were a rock band, not a workplace organising committee.
Nevertheless, the emphasis on solidarity and collective strength is unmistakable.
Angry Anderson delivers the vocal with the conviction of a man who has no intention of discussing a compromise.
Meanwhile, the guitars attack with that wonderful dirty sound which connects Australian hard rock to the blues.
There are echoes of AC/DC, although Rose Tattoo have their own rougher, more street-level character.
It’s the sort of recording that makes you want to turn the volume up, straighten your shoulders and face whatever trouble the day has in store.
Sometimes that’s enough.
Simple Minds – ‘Alive and Kicking’ (1985)
Simple Minds began in Glasgow in the late 1970s, initially drawing on punk, electronic music and European art rock.
Their early records could be experimental, atmospheric and quite distant from conventional pop music.
By the middle of the following decade, however, they had developed into one of the biggest British rock bands.
‘Alive and Kicking’ appeared in 1985 on Once Upon a Time, the album produced by Jimmy Iovine and Bob Clearmountain.
It followed the enormous international success of ‘Don’t You (Forget About Me)’, associated with the film The Breakfast Club.
What interests me about ‘Alive and Kicking’ is the way it captures the band’s transition from a more experimental sound into something designed for huge audiences.
The production is expansive, the rhythm powerful and the chorus clearly intended to fill arenas.
Jim Kerr’s vocal has tremendous conviction, while Charlie Burchill’s guitar and Michael MacNeil’s keyboards provide the distinctive musical framework.
There is also an almost gospel-like quality to the backing vocals, giving the recording an uplifting, communal feeling.
Some admirers of early Simple Minds regard their later material as too polished.
I have some sympathy with that view. There is a danger that the rough edges and unusual ideas which make a band interesting disappear when commercial success arrives.
Yet it would be unfair to dismiss this song on those grounds.
It’s a very accomplished piece of rock music, performed with confidence and considerable emotional force.
And unlike many stadium anthems of the 1980s, it has aged remarkably well.
Sleaford Mods featuring Florence Shaw – ‘Force 10 From Navarone’ (2023)
Now for something closer to contemporary Britain.
Sleaford Mods are one of the most distinctive acts to emerge from the British independent music scene in recent years.
Jason Williamson’s abrasive spoken vocals and Andrew Fearn’s minimal electronic backing create something that sits awkwardly between punk, hip-hop and post-punk.
And awkwardness is very much part of the attraction.
There’s no great effort to make the music comfortable. Williamson sounds like someone who has just come out of a particularly infuriating meeting and has decided the entire country needs to hear about it.
‘Force 10 From Navarone’ appeared on the 2023 album UK GRIM and features Florence Shaw of Dry Cleaning.
Shaw’s cool, detached delivery provides an effective contrast to Williamson’s agitated observations.
The song explores the relationship between happiness, anxiety, political frustration and the apparent inability of society to respond effectively to corrupt or incompetent government.
Williamson has spoken about the contradiction between wanting to challenge the world and finding oneself trapped by personal feelings and inactivity.
That’s a more interesting subject than simple protest slogans.
Plenty of people know that something is wrong. Far fewer know what to do about it, and fewer still are willing to take meaningful action.
Musically, the track is remarkably economical.
Fearn’s electronic backing provides just enough rhythm and atmosphere to carry the voices. There are no extravagant guitar solos or unnecessary flourishes.
Everything depends on timing, language and attitude.
I like Sleaford Mods because they refuse to pretend that Britain is a cheerful, well-managed country where everyone is prospering.
They can be unfair, rude and occasionally exhausting.
But so can the society they’re describing.
Mazzy Star – ‘Fade Into You’ (1993)
After Sleaford Mods’ irritated commentary on modern life, we return to something quieter.
Mazzy Star were formed around guitarist and songwriter David Roback and singer Hope Sandoval, developing a sound which blended psychedelia, folk, blues and what later became known as dream pop.
‘Fade Into You’ appeared on their 1993 album So Tonight That I Might See.
It’s difficult to believe that such a restrained recording became the band’s best-known song.
There’s no dramatic chorus, no attempt to overwhelm the listener and no obvious commercial trick.
Instead, the arrangement develops around acoustic guitar, gentle rhythm, delicate instrumental touches and Sandoval’s extraordinarily intimate voice.
The song appears to concern longing and emotional distance: the strange experience of feeling close to someone while suspecting that you may never completely reach them.
It’s a familiar subject, but Sandoval’s performance makes it seem unusually private.
David Roback later recalled that the song emerged naturally during a writing session rather than through a deliberate attempt to produce a hit.
That spontaneous quality remains audible.
There is something dreamlike about the recording. It seems to drift through the room rather than announce its arrival.
I also think it demonstrates an important musical principle: volume and aggression are not the only ways of producing intensity.
Sometimes a whispered vocal and a carefully placed guitar note can communicate more emotion than a dozen amplifiers.
Roback died in 2020, leaving behind a remarkable musical legacy.
This is probably the recording for which he will be most widely remembered.
And deservedly so.
Tad – ‘Stumblin’ Man’ (1991)
Tad were one of the great overlooked bands of the Seattle grunge scene.
Formed in the late 1980s around vocalist and guitarist Tad Doyle, they were part of the same musical environment that produced Nirvana, Mudhoney and Soundgarden.
But where some of those groups eventually developed a more accessible sound, Tad frequently sounded like an industrial accident involving several badly behaved guitar amplifiers.
There was something gloriously uncompromising about them.
‘Stumblin’ Man’ comes from their 1991 album 8-Way Santa, released by Sub Pop.
The album was recorded at Smart Studios with producer Butch Vig, shortly before his work on Nirvana’s Nevermind helped propel grunge into the mainstream.
The track is built around thick, distorted guitars and a lumbering rhythm that seems determined to flatten anything in its path.
But listen carefully and there’s more going on than sheer noise.
Tad had a strong sense of structure, and their best recordings balance heaviness with memorable riffs and flashes of melody.
They also possessed a dark sense of humour, something frequently overlooked when people discuss the Seattle scene.
The original 8-Way Santa album sleeve became notorious after a photograph used on the cover prompted legal objections. It was one of several controversies surrounding the band.
Tad never achieved Nirvana’s level of commercial success, but that doesn’t make their music less important.
If anything, they represent a rougher, less marketable side of grunge: before it became a fashion, a marketing category and a convenient way of selling expensive flannel shirts.
This is grunge with the dirt left on.
The Warriors – ‘Bowler Hats and Baseball Bats’ (2016)
We end with The Warriors, one of the enduring names of British Oi! music.
The band emerged in 1981 from the aftermath of The Last Resort, whose uncompromising street-punk sound had helped define the early Oi! scene.
Oi! is a genre which has suffered from enormous misunderstanding over the years.
Certainly, parts of the wider scene attracted unpleasant political associations. But it would be wrong to reduce the whole movement to those associations.
At its best, Oi! was a straightforward expression of working-class identity, loyalty, friendship and frustration. Its music was direct, aggressive and intended to be sung collectively rather than admired from a polite distance.
The Warriors have long described themselves as non-political and opposed to prejudice, while maintaining their association with the street-punk tradition.
‘Bowler Hats and Baseball Bats’ appeared as a single in 2016 and later featured on Lucky Seven.
The title immediately brings to mind A Clockwork Orange, with its unsettling combination of stylised clothing, youth gangs and violence.
It’s a provocative image, although one that needs to be understood within the theatrical traditions of punk rather than treated as an instruction manual.
Musically, the track is pure street punk.
The guitars are rough and insistent, the rhythm direct and the vocal delivery designed to make itself heard above considerable background noise.
There’s little subtlety, but subtlety isn’t always the point.
For all the arguments surrounding Oi!, the genre has survived because it speaks to audiences who recognise something of their own lives in its themes of identity, conflict and solidarity.
And it remains a reminder that British punk did not simply vanish when the first generation of bands broke up or entered the mainstream.
It continued in smaller venues, independent labels and communities which rarely received much attention from the established music press.
A suitably raucous ending to this week’s selection.
KEEP EXPLORING COUNTER CULTURE
Readers of the Midweek Song List may also be interested in two other regular Counter Culture features.
Culture Vulture is our long-running weekly guide to films, television, streaming, radio and the wider entertainment world.
Available in both written and audio-visual formats, it brings together familiar favourites, new releases, overlooked classics and recommendations which don’t always receive the attention they deserve.
You can find the latest edition on this website.
OUR SONG LIST SPECIALS
If you’ve enjoyed this week’s mixture, why not explore some of our themed collections?
Peace Songlists
Counter Culture Song List Special – Peace
Counter Culture Peace Songlist 2
These collections examine war, peace, political conflict and the human costs of militarism through folk, rock, punk, metal and popular music.
The Old Grey Whistle Test Specials
Part One – Songs That Captured the Spirit of The Old Grey Whistle Test
Part Two – Songs That Captured the Spirit of The Old Grey Whistle Test
Part Three – Songs That Captured the Spirit of The Old Grey Whistle Test
Three visits to the archives of one of the most influential music programmes British television ever produced.
West Coast Punk
A journey through the early American West Coast punk scene, including forgotten bands, rare recordings and personal recollections.
Edinburgh Fringe Special
Fringe Special Playlist ’26 – Inspired by Rockbeth
A celebration of rock music inspired by a wonderfully inventive Edinburgh Fringe production of Shakespeare’s Macbeth.
UNTIL NEXT WEEK
That’s another twelve songs, covering more than fifty years of music and a fair number of genres which don’t usually share the same playlist.
And that’s exactly how we like it.
There’s no obligation to enjoy everything. You might love the Manics and hate the Osmonds. You might think doom metal is magnificent and find Sleaford Mods unbearable. Or you might discover that a band you would never normally consider has produced something rather special.
Keep an open mind.
And if you’ve got memories of Halloween or Bonfire Night from your childhood, do share them. The stories behind our customs are every bit as interesting as the history behind the music.
Until next week, enjoy the songs, question the fashions and keep discovering.
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