Do They Know It’s Tired? Let’s Put Band Aid to Bed
By Abena Oppon
Band Aid might be my least favourite Christmas act, second only to Ladbaby, and only the latter have had the good sense to hang up their boots: Bob Geldof is threatening to ruin the Christmas season by releasing a new version of ‘Do They Know It’s Christmas?’ for the fourth time.
Since it’s a year ending in a 4, I predicted that Geldof would gift us another version but could not think why; this year there has been no Great African Tragedy that the media class has rallied around. The current humanitarian crises of the Sudanese Civil War and modern slavery in the Democratic Republic of Congo’s metal mines are caused by allies of the UK, as well as capitalist neo-colonialism as a whole — situations perceived as “too complex” to unite a whole country against. There is no easy paternalist framing like the Ethiopian Famine of 1983-85 that inspired the forming of Band Aid — and even then the key factor of the Ethiopian Civil War was easily omitted from the narrative.
(To give credit where it is due, the Band Aid Foundation is currently giving money to displaced people in Sudan, and I won’t say I want them to stop).
I had since let down my guard regarding the threat of Band Aid 40, but it was brought to my attention by Fuse ODG. Fuse ODG is one of the most prominent Afrobeats artists in the UK, second only to D’Banj in terms of pioneering the genre in this country. His time in the spotlight was admittedly short — all his chart success was within a year — but his presence in the music scene helped make it a great time for British music.
He turned down Band Aid 30 in 2014, and his op-ed in The Guardian only illuminates what his number one motivation for making music is: turning the tables on the Western perception of Africa. His “This is New Africa” movement is about showing that most of Africa isn’t a living breathing Save the Children advert — kind of what “Detty December” would be if it wasn’t just for people to go to a beach in Accra and get drunk on cheap spirits because the Cedi (Ghana’s currency) is down.
‘Do They Know It’s Christmas’ is reductive and factually inaccurate for reasons you’ve heard before. There is snow in Africa (plate tectonics exist there too, and therefore so do mountains). People in Africa do know it’s Christmas (most of the continent is Christian because of colonialism, and Ethiopian Orthodox is one of oldest Christian communities in the world). You shouldn’t thank God that an Ethiopian child is dying of starvation while you’re filling up on turkey (it’s an unwittingly perfect example of the construction of the Global South as disposable).
For people of African descent, this isn’t a revolutionary argument. It’s almost comical to think anyone would still have to argue this. However, Geldof re-releasing the song, and being fairly vehement in his right to do so, shows that the sentiment hasn’t gone away.
Alongside rehashing an outdated message, no remake of the original sounds any better. The original makes good on the appeal of a celebrity supergroup: we all know the original lineup, full of British and Irish icons, as well as a smattering of American stars. It’s well-performed and decently arranged, although the tinkly sleigh bells, Christmas chimes, and Little Drummer Boy-esque drums (courtesy of Phil Collins) make an already-syrupy song a little bit too twee.
Band Aid II in 1989, however, is awful. The appeal of Band Aid is seeing a load of famous musicians singing in one room, and this line-up has not aged very well. The only person recognisable to the average adult today is Kylie Minogue. It follows that most of the performances are anonymous at best, but I have to hand it to Jason Donovan for performing that iconic, tactless line with the most misplaced gusto, and a melodramatic melisma to boot. Stock Aitken Waterman took the reins from Geldof (and Midge Ure), and proceeded to fail at modernising the sound — it sounds even more dated than the ‘84 version because of its cheap electronic production. The programmed beat limps on, dull to a modern ear, and any changes to the original melody are just annoying, rather than interesting subversions.
Band Aid 20 in 2004 had the decency to change its cause: proceeds were now being raised for the Darfur region of Sudan. If anything, this is an indictment of the song’s part in homogenising Africa in the public eye as a place that only needs help and not respect — a colonialist trope to which Geldof rebuts, “colonialist tropes, my arse”. This version thankfully restores the star power of the original, starring icons such as Coldplay, Sugababes, Dido, and Robbie Williams. It starts a lot more solemnly than the original opening with Chris Martin doing what he does best — making a saccharine song even more so with his simpering vocals (he almost turns this into ‘Fix You’, but if Gwyneth Paltrow was an entire country).
Dizzee Rascal features as the only solo artist to ever add a new part to the song — his 4 lines go some way in trying to address accusations of colonial thinking, actively telling the listener not to “feel guilt” but just “give to the helpless.” Dizzee has spoken, so surely we cannot question him. Unfortunately, this doesn’t work when the song is primarily about arousing white guilt to make the Great British public put their hands in their pockets. Band Aid 20’s version builds to something listenable, and with a solo courtesy of The Darkness and a minimalistic bridge, it is easily better than its predecessor. However, the meditative self-consciousness makes for something a little lacking in punch.
Band Aid 30 finally took the plunge and changed the original lyrics. Now in aid of the 2014 Ebola Outbreak in West Africa, the lines about drought and war are changed for ones about the festive cheer and closeness of the Christmas period being ruined by the disease being spread through contact. “Well, tonight thank God it's them / Instead of you” is replaced with “Well tonight we’re reaching out and touching you” — still, hilariously, sung by Bono, who has clung onto it all this time. Once again the lineup is impressive, full of contemporary stars like One Direction, Ed Sheeran, Emeli Sandé, and Ellie Goulding. They also somehow got the late Sinéad O’Connor on this, as well as Angélique Kidjo, and I can only hope it was because the cheque was good.
And now, we are about to receive Band Aid 40. This time, it’s a blended re-issue of the past four versions, rather than yet another new cast. This is a blessing considering the previous versions; I’d also dread to think of how Central Cee would express his concern for the less fortunate. However, this sort of feels like the musical equivalent of CGI Peter Cushing. It imparts a bad taste; a sense of desperation on Geldof’s part to not miss the next anniversary, even if nobody famous enough seemingly wants to touch it. Ed Sheeran — who is still alive — went on the record to say he did not consent to having his vocals included. He is a pal of Fuse’s, and featured on his 2017 song ‘Boa Me’, where he sings in respectably good Twi.
People in the UK like to get up in arms about government spending on foreign aid, but it’s a fundamental facet of the country’s identity to assert both institutional and discursive dominance over the Global South. Britain (as a loose entity) keeps reproducing the colonial dynamic in the form of songs like this, and whatever charitable endeavour is raising money for children abroad. We all know this. It’s Old News.
There are far more prominent humanitarian crises not on the continent of Africa (the genocide of the Palestinian people, the ongoing war in Ukraine) that need the kind of visibility that Band Aid provides a cause. However, to question whether Ukrainian people “know it’s Christmas” would rightly be laughed at. Nobody famous aside from recently-redeemed Macklemore has dared to make a song about Palestine. There is a specific ideological setup at play in ‘Do They Know It’s Christmas’ that means it can only be about “Africa”, and it’s a narrative that should have long died.