Consider This from NPR - Songs Of The Summer In A Time Of Protest

Episode Date: July 4, 2022

It may be too soon to crown the "song of the summer". NPR Music's Stephen Thompson says there's no one quality that the songs that carry that title have... it's a collective feeling, a shared vibe.For so many Americans on this July 4th, songs of the summer and songs of protest feel one and the same.NPR's Ann Powers is a music critic, and Shana Redmond is a professor at Columbia University, and the author of "Anthem: Social Movements And The Sound Of Solidarity In The African Diaspora." They explain the role of protest music in this moment. In participating regions, you'll also hear a local news segment to help you make sense of what's going on in your community.Email us at [e-mail] more about sponsor message choices: podcastchoices.com/adchoicesNPR Privacy Policy

This message comes from Indiana University. Indiana University is committed to moving the world forward, working to tackle some of society's biggest challenges. Nine campuses, one purpose. Creating tomorrow, today. More at iu.edu. July 4th might be too early to crown a song of the summer, but there are some contenders already. Beyonce just dropped a new song called Break My Soul, which is this big, danceable, defiant number. It's a song of defiance for a cultural moment that I think matches the spirit of that song. You won't break my soul. You won't break my soul. You won't break my soul. You won't break NPR Music's Stephen Thompson says when you're trying to name a song of the summer,

there's not just one quality that does it. Sometimes it's a collective feeling. A sense of joy or release or nostalgia. I think a soaring quality helps. But it's a little bit hard sometimes to put your finger on it. Sometimes it's just a vibe. So what if that shared vibe, that quality, that sentiment that's bringing so many people together right now, what if it's one of defiance? We really are in a renaissance of protest music. Consider this. For so many Americans on this July 4th, songs of the summer and songs of

protest feel one in the same. Coming up, a conversation about the role of protest songs and what makes them powerful. I think it has to be connected to people's experiences. You have to be pulling your information, your sentiments, but also your sound from the people around you. You have to have a real sense of the ground and be able to demonstrate that you're in community with people. From NPR, I'm Elsa Chang. It's Monday, July 4th. This message comes from NPR sponsor, First Republic Bank. With secure mobile banking and dedicated personal bankers,

First Republic offers the best of both worlds to their clients. Learn more at firstrepublic.com. Member FDIC. Equal housing lender. This message comes from WISE, the app for doing things in other currencies. Send, spend, or receive money internationally and always get the real-time mid-market exchange rate with no hidden fees. Download the Wyze app today or visit wyze.com. T's and C's apply. It's Consider This from NPR. A week and a half ago, my co-host Ari Shapiro and some of his friends popped into a crowded basement bar in Provincetown, Massachusetts. Pianist Billy Huff and singer Darlene Van Alstyne began a familiar

old song. It was just hours after the Supreme Court had sided with the state of Mississippi in a case that overturned the nationwide right to an abortion. Suddenly, this tune from 1963 took on a whole new meaning. It caused a lot of controversy when Nina Simone wrote it because the title is provocative. The performance Ari attended was not caught on tape. This is a recording from a different night. Mississippi Goddamn, it's not a song of consolation or resolve. It doesn't offer the solace of protest tunes like We Shall Overcome or This Land Is Your Land.

This tune is a howl of rage. The more I sing this song, the more pissed off I get. How about you? Ari wanted to know more about the role of music in moments of political upheaval and social change. And so he spoke with two experts who have literally written books on the subject, Columbia University professor Shauna Redmond and NPR music critic Ann Powers. To start specifically with that ferocious Nina Simone song from 1963, how do you reflect on the fact that it still hits so hard today? I think there's only a sense of continuity that we can take from its legacy, from its usage in this very moment.

The structures to which Nina Simone was responding have continued to face us in this future that she hoped would be free and clear and beautiful. You don't have to live next to me, just give me my equality. And so the rage that she brought to the production of that song, the moment at which she said, I'm either going to take up arms, I'm going to buy a gun, or I'm going to write this song, is precisely where so many people see themselves fitting in today. That's it! Except I wondered as I was listening to it, are we hearing a protest song from 1963

because today's music just doesn't stack up? It doesn't compare? Anne, what do you think? Well, Ari, I think, you know, it's always tempting to say it was better in the good old days. But in fact, the lineage of protest music is one of constant dialogue and constant reinterpretations within these songs. And one song that really stood out for me after the Supreme Court decision came down was a rewriting of an American anthem, My Country Tis of Day, by a young singer-songwriter named, who goes by Reina del Cid, who rewrote the song to have these incredibly cutting and almost despairing lyrics. That is another example of how to engage with protests is to engage with history, and and musicians can do that so artfully. Shauna, has there been a moment of music for you in the last week that really hit home? One of the songs that has come up for me

that was brought to mind again through social media was Diggable Planet's La Femme Fetal. That song, which is very explicitly about abortion, 30 years ago, is actually now making the rounds again, not because it's new, but because of its documentation of a certain kind of prophecy. The pro-lifers harass me outside the clinic and call me a murderer. That Clarence Thomas is already represented in the song, that the stories they're telling about

fascism and the ways in which this is not about your protection or safety, this is about control, all of those things are at the fever pitch point of discussions around this decision. And so I'm drawn back here very solidly. You're both referencing songs from an earlier time that are being reinterpreted or revived, is there present-day music, stuff being written right now by people who are kind of at the cutting edge of the culture that you think has the power of the great protest songs of an earlier era? After the murder of George Floyd, there was a huge groundswell of songs, of music being made. One particularly poignant one was by Anderson.Paak. It's a song called Lockdown. And the song really represented not only the spirit of resistance, but the exhaustion that overcomes people when, you know, life itself requires resistance.

What do you think makes a great protest song? Because I'll admit, I've seen a few attempts on social media in the last week that for me have not connected, have fallen flat, have landed kind of with a splat. Shauna, what do you think makes a protest song work? I think it has to be connected to people's experiences. You have to be pulling your information, your sentiments, but also your sound from the people around you. You have to have a real sense of the ground and be able to demonstrate that you're in community with people. Also, I will say humor can sometimes be a strong force within protest and something that brings people together.

At the Glastonbury Music Festival, Olivia Rodrigo joined Lily Allen to perform Lily Allen's song, we'll just call it F.U. This song goes out to the justices, Samuel Alito, Clarence Thomas. It's like a sunny, bouncy pop tune. It's a dagger in the purse, Ari. It was funny, it was powerful, it was quite direct, and it just spread like wildfire. And we should not discount how significant it is that it be danceable or movable, right?

That this is the joy, even if the lyrics are devastating, that there's joy and movement, literal movement in these songs. And I think a lot of the statements that are going to come out around this, that people are going to identify with, are going to happen live and in real time. But I think if we're also pulling on our traditions and on our existing knowledges, I have to say, You Don't Own Me hits really, really hard right now. The Leslie Gore song from... The Leslie Gore is impossible to ignore in this moment. It's just a pitch perfect declarative

sentence and one that I can feel very intimately in this moment. You don't own me. I'm not just one of your many toys. Professor Shauna Redmond of Columbia University is the author of Anthem, Social Movements and the Sound of Solidarity in the African Diaspora. And Anne Powers is a music critic for NPR and author of Good Booty, Love and Sex, Black and White, Body and Soul in American Music. It's Consider This from NPR. I'm Elsa Chang.