It blows my mind that people vote against their own best interests. Whether it is people in this country voluntarily putting their X in the box for grifters like Nigel Farage, or decent people across the Atlantic deciding that Donald Trump was somehow the answer, there is something profoundly depressing about watching democracy being dismantled with the enthusiastic assistance of those who will suffer most.
The world was a very different place in April 2024, when George Mann and Si Kahn released Labor Day: A Tribute To Hardworking People Everywhere to celebrate Kahn’s 80th birthday. Two years later, a darker, less democratic and altogether more dangerous world requires a different kind of record: 13 songs designed, as the pair put it, “to keep our hearts strong and steady for the fight”.
Accordingly, Mayday! begins with “Hard Times”, on which it is difficult to watch the bastards smile as they tear the constitution down. Yet this is not music that accepts defeat. There is hope here, embodied by the declaration that “we are born to rise again”. That refusal to surrender runs through everything that follows.
“Anyone Can Be President” is an absolute beauty. Trump is excoriated with wit rather than empty fury: “Anyone could be president, when you see what we’ve got now, anyone would do as well.” The perfectly judged brass section gives the song a warmth that makes its message even more effective.
Si Kahn takes the lead on “Stranger In This Land”, a lovely acoustic piece written from the perspective of an immigrant. It humanises the people that politicians and commentators so casually reduce to statistics, threats and convenient scapegoats.
“Care For All” possesses a similarly gentle tone, asking listeners to consider the welfare of their fellow human beings. That really should not be a controversial position in 2026. Somehow, though, it probably is. Compassion has become a political act simply because cruelty has been normalised.
“In The Heart Of The Country” turns its attention towards ICE, dismissing its agents as “thugs and bullies” while wondering what has happened to the United States. Its final line is the important one: “In the middle of the battle, that’s where you will find me.” This is not merely observation from the sidelines. Mann and Kahn are prepared to stand alongside the people being targeted.
Kahn returns for the wonderfully titled “Ask The Penguin, Ask The Seal”, an inventive response to the tariffs Trump imposed on his so-called Liberation Day. Political songwriting can become unbearably worthy when handled badly. This never does. Mann and Kahn understand that humour, melody and storytelling often make the sharpest weapons.
“The Gap” is a rock ’n’ roll song about the few rather than the many. “The way you cut jobs, you must be good with a knife,” runs one of its finest lines, neatly encapsulating the inequality and calculated unfairness of a system that rewards those at the top while demanding sacrifice from everybody beneath them.
“Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is” is presented like an old blues song that might once have been sung by a chain gang. The implication is obvious: perhaps we are all prisoners of the capitalist system, working to enrich people who will never know our names and certainly would not care to learn them.
Kahn then heads “At The Crossroads”, returning to the mythical location where Robert Johnson supposedly sold his soul. This time, though, nobody appears interested in buying. “I have dreamed of riches, I have dreamed of fame, I never dreamed I would grow so old,” he sings. It is reflective, funny and unexpectedly moving, the perspective of a veteran campaigner who has watched the same battles return in different clothes.
“You Can’t Count On The Numbers” examines the gulf between what we are told and what actually happens. Statistics are manipulated, promises are broken and politicians claim to represent ordinary people while demonstrating repeatedly that they could not care less about them.
“Fight For Your Union” is a proper protest song. Joe Hill would be proud. Its argument is beautifully straightforward: if workers are expected to fight for everybody else, then they must also be prepared to fight for themselves. Collective action is presented not as some historical relic, but as the only meaningful response to those determined to divide and exploit.
The gleefully folky “Going Going Gone” imagines auctioning off the world’s leaders. Frankly, it is a lovely thought. There would probably be a limited market for most of them, although some billionaire would inevitably buy the entire collection and claim it as a tax deduction.
Finally, “One Voice” provides the record with its clarion call. It would be nice to imagine the song ringing out across the world, uniting people against hatred, greed and authoritarianism. It will not, of course. The people who most need to hear it rarely listen, and those who benefit from division have louder megaphones.
Still, that does not make the attempt any less important.
Mayday! is not simply a brilliant record. It is an album about solidarity, dignity and the apparently radical notion that human beings should care about one another. It understands the darkness of the present moment without allowing that darkness to extinguish its hope.
In a world seemingly determined to make cynics of us all, George Mann and Si Kahn have created something capable of restoring your faith in humanity.
Rating: 9/10
