A Jew in 1939 was basically one generation past the pogroms, and a few months before something even worse. I’m not surprised at all.
10,000 Maniacs, “The Latin One.” Wilfred Owen’s poem about the death and horror of WW1. Perhaps not incredibly subtle, but the poem is sufficiently to take it out of the “preachy” category, and Marchant’s voice soars over this thing like some sort of valkyrie - cold, beautiful, and unrelenting in its recitation of nightmare set to a poppy 80s beat. One of my very favorite songs.