For heaven’s sake, turn up the music

This month, Wellington Central’s National candidate, Scott Sheeran, deleted a video of him fire-spinning poi over music licensing confusion. The song he uploaded it with is Royal Deluxe’s ‘Day is Gonna Come’, which National said it had the license to use during the campaign, but it was unclear whether the agreement covered use in the video, so removed it out of “an abundance of caution”.

It isn’t the first time National has been challenged on its use of other people’s music, having been found to be in breach of copyright for using Eminem’s track ‘Lose Yourself’ for a 2014 election ad. I’m not picking on National here, but the ‘Day is Gonna Come’ reminds me of how music has and is used by governments, individual citizens (including politicians) and organisations for centuries to spread political news, views, ideas and ideologies, and to create political identities and bonds both pro- and anti-establishment.

In almost every single United States political cycle some politician (usually, but not always Republican) decides to use a well-known pop song that the creator(s) then objects to it being used in that context. Bruce Springsteen, for instance, has often made headlines for objecting to a Republican politician using ‘Born in the USA’, going back to Ronald Reagan using it in 1984, and more recently Donald Trump in his rallies. Other examples include Abba asking John McCain to “cease and desist” using ‘Take a Chance on Me’, Aerosmith asking Trump to do the same with ‘Dream On’, and Bobby McFerrin asking George HW Bush to stop using ‘Don’t Worry, Be Happy’ as his campaign song.

History is littered with examples of music being created or appropriated for political messages, and many examples of governments and organisations using music as a tool to establish political and nationalistic identities. Almost every style of music has been used for political messages, but in the later 20th and 21st Centuries popular music styles have often been the preferred genres of choice.

Including in Aotearoa New Zealand, and by musicians singing out about political causes that were near and dear to their hearts, or had their music adopted for political causes.

The local recording industry didn’t begin until the late 1940s in New Zealand, and though I’m sure musicians have always sung for and against political causes, the earliest protest songs recorded came in the 1960s. Our sense of musical satire was manifested in popular songs with political edges under the guise of parody and humour. Howard Morrison Quartet’s ‘My Old Man’s An All Black’ (1960), a parody of Lonnie Donnigan’s ‘My Old Man’s A Dustman’, was a subtle but biting indictment on both the New Zealand and South African governments and their collective stance about Māori players in the All Blacks tours of South Africa.

Herbs’ ‘French Letter’ (1982) lulls listeners into the sweet ballad using the tropes of a musical South Sea fantasy ("Can you see yourself, under a coconut tree?"), and then hits you in the gut with "Do you know what makes the ocean glow / When unwelcome guests, are making nuclear tests" before the group launches into gloriously arpeggiated anti-nuclear chorus; "Quitter la Pacific, get out of the Pacific".

The 1970s and 1980s gave rise to myriad protest songs in all genres of pop music, both serious and satirical, from Shona Laing’s ‘Soviet Snow’ to Blam Blam Blam’s ‘There’s No Depression in New Zealand’. Though we don’t see such an overt strand of politically oriented songs in the 21st Century doesn’t mean that they’ve disappeared. If anything, the political songs have become even more personal than those of the 1980s. Take Aaradhna’s song ‘Brown Girl’ (2016) – a damning indictment of racism, specifically within the Aotearoa music industry. The power of her actions in refusing the win for Best Urban/Hip Hop album at the 2016 New Zealand Music Awards prompted changes in the structure of the awards to allow for a broadening of available musical categories rather than just being, in Aaradhna’s words: “placed in a category of brown people”.

The land protests at Ihumātao that began in 2016 prompted many musicians to protest against the government’s actions through music. Stan Walker performed for protestors at the site in July 2019, a move reminiscent of reggae bands such as Unity and The Backyard in the 1970s playing for protestors (and being protestors themselves) at Bastion Point. Also in August 2019 Rob Ruha organised singers Maisey Rika, Majic Pāora, Bella Kalolo, Ria Hall, Seth Haapu, The Witch Dr, and Troy Kingi to record his song Kā Manu in support of the protestors.

We can’t talk of political music in the 21st Century without mentioning that John Key protest songs appear to be a topical subgenre in and of themselves. Tom Scott and Home Brew with ‘Listen to Us’ (2011), Tom Scott and @Peace ‘Kill the PM’ (2014), Shihad ‘FVEY’ (2014), Dr Glam (aka Dr Ian Chapman) ‘Wonky John Key’ (a parody of the children’s song ‘Wonky Donkey’ by Craig Smith) in 2011, and others took aim at John Key and the National government’s policies and attitudes. Whether you loathe him or love him, you absolutely cannot deny that many musicians found John Key topically inspiring.

It’s also important to remember that music plays a large role in physical political events (both protest and party conferences) as well. Whether it is specific songs being performed or sung, or people coming together and singing the same song, music creates a bond between participants; to paraphrase Pete Seeger, an icon of 20th century protest music, music and participation in music is a way to demonstrate “Which Side Are You On?”.

Governments have made use of existing music or have commissioned music to promote certain ideas and ideologies, to score points against opponents or to create support among the masses. Whether establishment or anti-establishment music resonates with supporters and opponents and provides an important and memorable hook into people’s emotions and psyches.

Though we may not be as overtly political in our music as we were in the 1960s-1980s in New Zealand, we are still very political – everyone has a voice and we can and will be heard. It’s also a way to demonstrate our allegiances and where we take a stand. Musicians, bring on the music!