The Groove That Changed
When I first heard about the plight of the Palestinians sometime before the millennium, I sided with the people I saw being abused by a totalitarian regime committing human rights atrocities. Information was scarce. I had never even heard of Hamas.
After the millennium, the internet arrived. I started posting “Free Palestine” on social media, wrapped in the colours of their flag. It felt natural. It was part of the tradition in the dub-reggae-jungle-drum&bass-dubstep culture that had shaped me; the same scenes where the musicians I grew up on were doing the same. From Bob Marley’s freedom songs to Zion Train’s movement, the message was in the music: a call for humanitarian end to persecution and repression of impoverished peoples.
I inherited that political stance through social induction. I assumed, without full knowledge or the means to get it, that the postmodern protests were carrying the same fire as the modern struggles of the previous generation. The groove had been set. As a musician aiming at the demographic that shared my tastes, it became part of the whole bundle, selling personality and gaining traction through identifiable niche clichés. It worked. I never wanted to be a commercial musician. I stayed underground with a small cult following. People begged me to release my music. Some days I slept on the streets or in bushes just to avoid being doorstepped. I began to hate popularity.
Another reason I never stepped through the door into a full career was that every commercial opening at the time ran hand-in-hand with the cocaine trade. The all-expenses-paid in-crowd was only open if I generated money for the dealers by putting on shows. That was never what I was about.
After the 2000s I dropped out entirely. I boxed up my studio gear and put it in the attic. Eventually I started digging deeper into what “Free Palestine” actually meant beyond the surface-level virtue-signal that had been so useful for speaking the language of the crowd I wanted to entertain, the dad I wanted to sell to, or the groupie I wanted to sleep with.
Nobody in that scene checked beneath face value. It was shallow, built on appearances. Having a reputation for not giving a shit about reputation, because “it’s all about the music”, deflected the assholes and attracted those who respected words that were just words. A public image, an identity. You use it to navigate people even while your whole attitude is to expose the game and escape it.
That mindset is what kept me underground. In an attempt to avoid egotism, nothing I’ve released carries a real human name. It all runs through a commercial vehicle, by necessity, because that’s how the world works. You know the SnakeAppleTree brand logo.
Child of my generation. Become the thing everyone openly says they hate: the path of success.
People are idiots. They think you’re successful if you pay hundreds of pounds out of pocket to sell petro-plastic products that damage the planet. We loved MP3 technology because people could hear the music with less pollution. Of course, getting the music heard at all is part of the equation.
A spiritual philosophy emerges: the right people hear it. The curious discover it for themselves and bond with it because it feels personal and special, not forced through expensive advertising campaigns.
Or simply don’t release it. Only play it at anonymous live sets where nobody knows the DJ’s name. Travel is involved. Keep yourself small while getting the tunes out in tiny underground parties, telling no one (until now). There are a lot of us doing that. I came to realise others had reached the same conclusion. Anonymity becomes protection. Guerrilla musicians.
SnakeAppleTree started as a goth. Cut his teeth on rock-metal-grunge and Euro-trance-techno, of course the dub-reggae-jungle-drum&bass-dubstep sound, often carrying Arabic musical influence - after all, Arabian Nights was always the root. Dressed in combat fatigues, combat boots, black hoody, armour for the road. An identifiable cosplay image because people like it and it improves the experience.
At some point I returned to being Goth. A passion for classical music and goth-punk. A late-night digital vampire.
Through experience and maturity, I saw the naivety of youth: promoting movements that had been captured. Any strong grassroots social movement gets hijacked by those seeking to use it for their own ends. We witnessed it with Occupy, the original homeless pioneers at St Paul’s exposed the “official spokespeople” giving media interviews as strangers they had never seen. Police agents, seizing the movement for a political agenda. An era where the homeless had mobile phones and social media to document it all and expose the systemic corruption. All those originators later disappeared from the platforms. I stand witness.
This is how we were policed in Britain around the millennium and beyond.
I focus on my music now. It’s safer than being branded a political dissident. Making a living from it would make me a target. Staying underground is necessary for survival.
In the 2020s the Free Palestine Movement was proscribed by the British government as involving terrorist activities. A far cry from simple empathy for families whose homes were bombed.
The problem with Palestine is that Palestinian children are raised from birth to be violent extremists. These are not ordinary civilians caught as victims of war and politics. These are haters trained to perpetuate violence over a situation that existed before they were born. They are the children of war. The children of war amplify war. They are not farmers; they are holy warriors. It is not a sustainable nation state; it is jihadi vendetta. Money given by the international community to rebuild infrastructure was not spent on stabilisation. It was spent on weapons to continue the violence.
Unfortunately I cannot go back and edit those early social media accounts. They show who I was decades ago, not who I am now. They reflect face-value reactions rather than depth and accuracy. The circumstances have changed over decades, and so have I.
I write this hoping to encourage others not to make the naive, idealistic mistakes I made. Being a communicator trying to reach people with similar musical taste has created a mess of complexity.
I do not believe I have “sold out” by scratching beneath the surface. I simply evolved, matured, wised up to the manipulation that exists in the world, and adjusted course accordingly.
The mind is manipulable. Anything with even the illusion of power gets exploited. There is real power which is spiritual and holy. It is probably not something to be discovered outside of being true to your heart. Shake it off on the dance floor and reconnect with what is true, good and pure. We are the living bridge through which divinity spreads love and healing to the world. If you’re not doing that, why not?