Opinion / Robert Bound
The light of hope
Dame Vera Lynn, who died yesterday aged 103, is synonymous in the UK with the Second World War, though her music has lasted decades into peacetime. “We’ll Meet Again” and “The White Cliffs of Dover” were the songs of a generation that never surrendered and never forgot – even if nobody ever seemed to know precisely all of the words to either. Fabled as “the forces’ sweetheart”, her own war was resolute, brave and relatively unglamorous: she spent three months performing in a combat uniform in the Burmese jungle and sang between the bomb blasts of the Blitz in London clubs that never closed. To the soldiers, she stood not for lust but for life back home.
It seems somehow pointless to note that Lynn (pictured) was a hugely successful recording artist: the first UK singer to score a US number one and the oldest to top the album chart in her home country. Lynn didn’t record a Bond theme or send herself up in comedy sketches; neither did she duet with, say, the Pet Shop Boys or have her songs reinterpreted by younger generations. It seems unlikely that Lynn knew that her name had been co-opted as rhyming slang for “skin”, as in the rolling paper for a joint (as cited by dance band The Shamen in their provocative 1992 hit “Ebeneezer Goode”).
In the UK, there has been some criticism of relating wartime sentiment with how to behave properly during the coronavirus pandemic. But there was a tide of meaning, benignly intended, when the Queen addressed the UK in April, quoting Lynn’s biggest hit while simultaneously correcting its grammar. “We will meet again,” said Her Majesty. The fact that Lynn’s singles and albums appeared back in the UK charts just last month, aided by the 75th anniversary of VE Day, is testament to her longevity and memory. With respect for both of those qualities, Lynn’s passing might allow a fresh folk hero to be crowned for a new generation. It’s tough to stand for both war and peace.