A soul-infused gem it captures Cush and The Men They Couldn’t Hang at their finest with a killer tune and biting lyrics of the reality of human suffering. King Street Serenade, Salutations and, maybe the one I will see as his epitaph, the stunning Pone. Listen to Cock a Hoop, their most recent and, arguably, finest album and three Cush fronted songs jump out. However, the later albums reveal some true gems such as his paean to the 1970’s Denis Law and Ali McGraw, the best song I have heard about the Iraq invasion, Devil on the Wind and the heart-rending beauty of Turquoise Bracelet Bay. Great as it is, it’s not just The Green Fields of France that I will listen to, to remember Cush the passion of Ironmasters, the perfection of The Colours and the yearning beauty of Scarlett Ribbons will all do it. Tender, powerful and evocative, his performance is so good that it never fails to put you in France, at the graveside of Willie McBride and to drag you through the emotions felt there. Cush’s performance on maybe their best-known song, The Green Fields of France, is a true delight, albeit destined to be a poignant one now. Harmonizing or combining to produce that essential “power choir” sound, they were unbeatable and, crucially, each track they took lead is instantly owned by each of them and distinctive. The Men They Couldn’t Hang were the sum of many parts the genius lyrics of Paul Simmonds, from which you could learn history better than in any book, the frantic drum patterns that defied you to sit still, the irresistible melodies and the perfect blending of vocals between Cush and Phil “Swill” Odgers.

Yes, Stefan Cush was Mr Live Performance, the effervescent life and soul of every gig party. And that is how I see Cush now, and I suppose I always will the livewire, “like a case of dynamite”, bouncing all over the stage, leading the heaving mass in front of him through an exultant celebration. New material and new ideas were thrown into the set to produce an absolutely barnstorming performance. With their brilliant debut album, Night of a Thousand Candles, now well established, they were in that delicious time before the second album drops. The venue was rammed to the rafters and the band were at the top of their game. It’s the Venus Supermarket now, but whenever I drive past there, I can still see that night. Patricks’ Day, I saw The Men They Couldn’t Hang at the International Club in Manchester. March 1986, three days before I saw The Pogues at Hammersmih Palais on St. Sitting here in the misery of Lock Down, when the future of live music hangs by a thread, I close my eyes and see a band, and in Cush a man, who represent the joys of the gig experience as well as any. At a time when the original adrenalin of Punk was fading, these bands led a furious revival of energy in venues across the country as they gigged constantly, inspiring legions of devoted followers.To see The Men They Couldn’t Hang then was an uplifting experience, as it remained when they last played live before Lock Down. Like those before me who had the Cavern Club in the early ‘60’s, or The Roxy and the 100 Club in ‘76/77, I had the “Folk-Punk” explosion of 1985-86, spearheaded by The Pogues and The Men They Couldn’t Hang. I count myself lucky to have been granted one of the great periods of British music. Yes, emotion is all with this band and, as I sit here a few hours after hearing the terrible news, I can only try to share what I see as I look back. I don’t believe there is another band who can have you punching the air with a righteous defiance one minute and wiping tears from your eyes the next. Few bands could grab you by the throat and drag you into a song, a story or an experience like them. However, the many who loved him know all that and it would omit the one thing that is crucial above all else when discussing Cush and The Men They Couldn’t Hang, and that is the power of emotion. I could attempt to write an obituary that presents his recorded achievements and bemoans the fact that the The Men They Couldn’t Hang never received the acclaim they deserved.

Stefan kaiser music