It was with a particularly heavy heart that I learned on Friday evening of the death of Stefan Cush, co-vocalist with The Men They Couldn’t Hang, at the age of 60.
The band posted the sad news on their social media accounts, saying: “With unbearable sadness we have to let you all know that our brother, friend, inspiration, life of the party and soul of the band Stefan Cush died of a sudden heart attack on Thursday. We are beyond devastated.
“Our love goes out to his family. We will say more when we can. We loved him. Did the band play the last post and chorus? Did the pipes play the flowers of the forest? God bless you Mr C.”
It was a simple but heartfelt tribute, and the news stunned me, much more than the untimely deaths of other musical heroes like Joe Strummer, Lemmy and David Bowie – all taken far too soon.
It’s not like I knew Cush, a founder member of the band in 1984; nor had I met him or even spoken to him. It was that his/TMTCH’s music spoke to me, and had a profound effect on me, as a young man, and all the way into middle age.
Their songs provided food for thought, stirred my emotions, informed my politics, and filled in the gaps where school history lessons had failed me: Ghosts of Cable Street, for example, told how Oswald Mosley’s fascists were beaten down by the ordinary people of London’s East End in the 1930s.
TMTCH’s debut single was a cover of Scottish folk singer Eric Bogle’s The Green Fields Of France, and although numerous artists, including several of my favourites, have done their own version, I reckon theirs is the definitive take.
I loved all the early TMTCH records, particularly second album How Green Is The Valley, and couldn’t help but be influenced by the message of songs like Ironmasters, Shirt Of Blue and, of course, The Green Fields Of France.
I was lucky enough to see TMTCH live a few times over the years. On one occasion, at Rebellion Festival in Blackpool in 2016, I had tears running down my face as I stood in the middle of the Pavilion stage crowd, singing along to Green Fields. But rather than be embarrassed that it had made me cry, I reflected that it was a tribute both to the song itself and Cush’s delivery. That’s the power of great music.
He and co-vocalist Phil ‘Swill’ Odgers had the knack of turning sometimes uncomfortable subjects into powerful, thought-provoking folk-rock songs, delivered with the same sort of punk attitude displayed by their much more feted and more commercially successful contemporaries The Pogues.
And though Paul Simmonds is the band’s main songwriter, Cush brought some fine tunes to the table too; Rabid Underdog on How Green Is Your Valley?, Life Of A Small Fry on excellent third album Waiting For Bonaparte, and Lobotomy, Gets ‘Em Home from their highest-charting album, Silvertown.
The last time I saw the band was in November 2019, at the Tyne Bank Brewery in Newcastle, when they were on fine form as they celebrated their 35th anniversary (gig review here).
Typically, Cush showed his support for striking lecturers, waving placards in support of the UCU. He was preaching to the converted, as that’s the type of audience TMTCH attract. Strong-willed, unafraid to stand up for themselves, but with compassion for others too.
They were due to return to the Tyne Bank Brewery last year, on my birthday no less, and I was looking forward to a repeat performance – leaving the car at home this time so I could enjoy some of the venue’s wares.
Like everything else after mid-March 2020, however, the gig was cancelled due to the coronavirus pandemic.
Although it’s too early and the pain of his passing still too raw to make such a decision, Cush’s death must cast doubt on whether the band continues.
I hope they do because I think that’s what he would have wanted. I can think of no better tribute to the man and his music, and if it does come to pass, I bet I won’t be the only one with ‘something in my eye’.
