Football Songs #2: Three Lions

Right, then. Just in time for England to get knocked out of the World Cup by Germany, let’s do the next (or, possibly, last?) of my posts on football songs, in a vague attempt at whipping up a bit of spirit.

So. “Three Lions”, then. Not actually a World Cup song originally, of course – but still just about the greatest football song ever written. No, seriously. Ignore the appropriation by the massed ranks of the boorish, and instead look at the song in its own right – what it sets out to do, what it’s about, and how it does it – and it’s pretty much without peer.

Three Lions (1996)

The thing that makes the original “Three Lions” the most endearing is theway it captures perfectly what it means to be an English football fan. Not the loud, beer-swilling, “IN-GUR-LUND!”-shouting kind, but those of us who approach each tournament with very little expectation yet plenty of hope. England are in a curious position – they’re not a terrible team, even when they play as badly as they did against Algeria; but nor are they one of the best, despite the presence of players from pretty much the highest-paid and highest-profile league in Europe (if not the world). They’re a team who could, on their day, beat just about anyone; but who are also likely, on most days, to stumble against… well, against the likes of Algeria and the USA.

“Three Lions” kicks off on a note of unbridled pessimism – well-chosen sound clips from Alan Hansen, Trevor Brooking and Jimmy Hill dismissing England’s chances could have come from 2010 rather than 1996 (so long as you substitute the latter pair for Lawrenson and Shearer). Baddiel and Skinner, however, know that on their day England “can play”, before launching into the sort of nostalgia-wallowing that frequently draws criticism for fans of both England and my club, Liverpool – “We did some good stuff in the past so we should be able to again” – but which is hard to deny that we’re all guilty of at some point or another. It’s hopeful, but it’s realistic. They know England probably aren’t going to win Euro ’96, but they also know it’s always a distinct possibility.

The best section of the lyrics is the part that makes clear that it’s a song written by people who actually know their football. “I still see that tackle by Moore / And when Lineker scored” – first of all, the way that these two lines are phrased are effortlessly succinct. They’re vague at first glance, but anyone who knows anything about football knows exactly the moments they refer to. And, what’s more, those moments aren’t even anything to do with English success – the first was one of the great defensive tackles of all time, by Bobby Moore on Pele, but it came in a 1-0 group stage defeat to Brazil; and the second was a scrappy equalising goal in a game (versus West Germany in 1990) that England went on to lose. Nevertheless, the fact that they’re two of the most iconic moments in English football history – brilliant and ultimately meaningless individual moments amid overall failure – says everything about that history, and the overall tone of the song.

It’s also, tune-wise, easily the best official England song (or, at the very least depending on your own personal taste, on a par with “World In Motion”) – and you have to give it credit for not one, but two, instantly-memorable refrains (both “It’s coming home” and the “Three Lions on a shirt…” chorus). Yes, it’s easy to get sick of morons shouting “FOOTBALL’S COMING HOME”, and of the phrase being used on advertisement posters during tournaments that aren’t taking place in England, thus missing the entire point of the lyrics – but it was perfect at the time for describing the first major tournament to be held in England for thirty years.

Three Lions ’98 (1998)

And so to the 1998 reprise of the song – this time, actually for a World Cup. This gets a lot of flak for simply being a cheap, cynical cash-in on the success of the original – so I’m going to take the controversial view that it’s not, and that it actually serves a purpose.

You see, it’s the sequel. It’s the morning after (even though it actually came out two years later). The original song ended on a cliffhanger – could England actually do it? The answer was: no, they couldn’t. And “Three Lions ’98” therefore picks up directly afterward, reflecting once again on failure rather than success – but still with that glimmer of hope among the despair. It’s a necessary companion to the original song, because it shows that the hope of that song wasn’t fulfilled – but that it’ll carry on happening anyway, every time England get to a major tournament, even if they look absolutely useless when doing so.

Downsides? Well, the choice of commentary clips are poor this time out – not being able to use “official” BBC commentary, they instead turned to radio clips from Jonathan Pearce, and it’s Pearce when he was shouty and annoying. It simply doesn’t bear comparison with the ’96 song’s excellent use of Motson’s “England have done it… in the last minute… of extra time!” (although come to think of it, that version should also have found room for “Augenthaler couldn’t do it, Lineker probably could… aaaand England have equalised! It’s GARY LINEKER!”) The “I still see” section, meanwhile, is horribly dated – while the moments in the original are frozen in time forever, singing about “Ince ready for war, Gazza good as before, Shearer certain to score” was pretty much out of date by the time the ’98 World Cup had even kicked off. And, of course, it still uses “football’s coming home” when… well, it wasn’t. It was going to France.

But even then, you can forgive re-using the refrain – rather than composing a new song entirely – because, well, they deserved to put out a record that featured fans actually singing it. It’s the only time a football record has actually been properly picked up and sung on the terraces (well, alright, “in the stands”) immediately after its release; and yes, a part of that is that it’s simple and easy for even the most cretinous fan to remember, but it was nevertheless a brilliantly, instantly effective addition to the vernacular – and that deserved to be marked. And if nothing else, the re-recorded version is actually a bit better, musically, than the original – the production is beefier, and although the vocal performances from Skinner and – especially – Baddiel are worse, it’s arguably still a better record overall. The original is still the one you’d want to listen to the most – it’s a better reflection of its time (and the England of that glorious summer of 1996 were far easier to like than the England of that disappointing and slightly bleak summer of 1998 anyway) – but the sequel isn’t just a nasty, pointless cash-in at all – it actually has merit on its own.

But the 2010 version, of course, can just fuck off and die.