Song Of Support

It's 20 years since Ian Prowse's classic Does This Train Stop On Merseyside was released. Its Hillsborough reference is important because in 2005 few people wanted to talk about the unlawful killings

Why don’t you remember?

Does This Train Stop On Merseyside? Amsterdam

THERE ARE TIMES when you don’t want to think about the past. Because it’s painful.

Ian Prowse recalls an exchange on social media in response to a performance of Does This Train Stop On Merseyside? his magnificent tribute to the city of Liverpool and the surrounding area. The song is 20 years old and Prowse is in the midst of an anniversary tour celebrating this epic hymn to Scouse culture.

The former Pele and Amsterdam front man was on the same bill as The Wonder Stuff a couple of years ago. There are invariably individuals in crowds like this who are not familiar with Prowse’s work.

Does This Train… is affectionate but unsentimental; a love letter that understands the city’s strengths and faults. Sometimes, the imagery is jarring: ‘the blood of Africa’s on every wall.’ Liverpool’s links with the slave trade will for ever mark the port.

One lyric had upset an audience member, who complained the next day on social media. It had affected him badly enough that he had left the venue in distress. The passage that had caused distress details events that horrified the world.

“Can′t conceive what those children done,

Guess there’s a meanness in the soul of man…”

This refers to the murder of James Bulger, a two-year-old toddler who was abducted and murdered by a pair of 10-year-olds in 1993. That was not the problem. It was what came next. Prowse continues the theme of inhumanity in the next couplet.

“Yorkshire policemen chat with folded arms,

While people try and save their fellow fans…”

The man complaining was a Hillsborough survivor. The lyric triggered a visceral response. His rage was directed at the wrong target.

Why don’t you remember?

As another anniversary looms – it is 36 years since the unlawful killings of 97 fans at the 1989 FA Cup semi-final – this story stuck a chord. When I first heard the song 20 years ago, the line had a similar, devastating impact on me. You couldn’t say it came from nowhere: it sits completely in context with mood of the words and describes a key event in Merseyside’s history. It’s just that it was hard to comprehend a songwriter having the boldness and bravery to address the subject.

To provide some context. The mid-2000s was one of the grimmest periods for those connected with the Hillsborough cause. Most people still believed the lies printed in The Sun in 1989. There was little sympathy for the dead, their families and survivors. Tony Blair’s Labour government had no interest in finding the truth or providing justice.

Campaigners were repeatedly told to “get over it,” or “move on.” Prowse’s refrain, “Why don’t you remember?” was the opposite of what most people wanted. They wanted us to forget.

Still, the unexpected nature of the lyric shook some of us to the core. The image of lines of policemen standing, watching, ignoring the dead, dying and injured is – literally – the stuff of nightmares. And flashbacks.

Lines of police doing their duty at Hillsborough. Top left, on the pitch, top right, at the back of the Leppings Lane. Note how few are actually helping. Bottom left, fans make desperate efforts while in the background, blown up, bottom right, policemen chat with folded arms

Back then, I was unfamiliar with Prowse’s oeuvre. I’d been in the United States, trying to put distance between myself and Hillsborough, when his band Pele had hits in the early 1990s. Amsterdam were a group I’d heard about but had not investigated. But now they had my attention.

After calming down, it became clear that Prowse was doing something important, something crucial: keeping Hillsborough in the popular consciousness and placing it as one of the central events in the city and the nation’s history. Never forgive, never forget.

The song, and Prowse’s gigs as a solo artist and with Amsterdam, became a rallying point for survivors.

But do not be fooled. There is nothing maudlin about a night out watching Ellesmere Port’s pop genius in action.

Pele’s body of work is magnificent. Raid The Palace managed to sneak regicide onto the radio unnoticed, hidden behind gloriously uplifting pop. All of Prowse’s canon is infused with a Celtic sensibility melded with driving, stand-up-and-cheer singalong powerpop. Prowse can make you cry but, more often, he makes you dance and chant.

Does This Train… often brings tears. The fan who came to see The Wonder Stuff got more than he bargained for but misunderstood what was happening. Prowse, a Tranmere Rovers supporter, is an advocate for those who have been wronged and those who will never see justice. And it’s not just Hillsborough; his muse is resistance. The demand for decency courses through his songs.

There’s another story about Does This Train Stop On Merseyside? which is almost always the closing number in the set.

After a gig in Sheffield City Hall supporting Elvis Costello, Prowse noticed a woman glaring at him while he spoke to fans at the merchandise stall. When the demand for autographs died down, he said hello to the woman, who immediately launched into a rant. She was disgusted by the final song. Her husband, she said, was an officer on duty at Hillsborough and started to explain how the experience had been awful for him.

For him? Prowse immediately went to his phone to find the photograph of South Yorkshire policemen chatting with folded arms while supporters made stretchers from advertising hoardings to carry the dead and dying. The woman did not want to see the pictures. She ran off without viewing the evidence.

Why didn’t she remember? Because she didn’t want to. It would mean revisiting her husband’s guilt and failure. It’s easier to pretend to be the victim and pretend Hillsborough was our fault.

Ian Prowse will never let them forget. The man is a Merseyside treasure. Remember that.

• Records and tour dates. Go see him either solo or with the six-piece band. There are few more uplifting nights