Does it matter how posh pop stars are?

‘A working class hero is something to be.’ Rishi Sunak and Keir Starmer must have missed the conflicted, sardonic edge to John Lennon’s lyric, from his 1970 song ‘Working Class Hero’, given their rush to scrub away the whiff of privilege in the crudest manner imaginable. Sunak, desperately, by means of bemoaning a childhood forever blighted by lack of access to satellite TV; Starmer by dully hammering home that he is the son of a toolmaker.

A country pile, a double-barrelled girlfriend and a mock-regal drawl were valued plunder in 1960s pop

As in politics, so in music. In both fields, class anxiety has become inverted. The fear now is to appear too privileged. It wasn’t always thus. Think of Mick Jagger in the late 1960s, dangling a cigarette over an elegantly draped wrist and talking like a louche, disinherited duke. Back then, rock and rollers aspired to the aristocratic. A country pile, a double-barrelled girlfriend and a mock-regal drawl were all valued plunder.

Nowadays, the aristos have taken over and would rather keep quiet about it. Pop stars are getting posher and, like our politicians, they don’t know how to talk about the many benefits such rare luck offers – among them first-class music tuition, instant industry connections and the luxury of time (meaning money) to pursue their dreams. As for the pitfalls, the ultimate nightmare is to appear as disconnected from reality as Sunak. This year’s excellent BBC Sound of 2024 winners, the Last Dinner Party, were recently forced to issue a statement after the Times ran an article in which lead singer Abigail Morris was quoted – misleadingly, it transpired – as saying that ‘people don’t want to listen to post-punk and hear about the cost-of-living crisis’.