Copyright 2000 National Review

National Review

September 11, 2000

SECTION: Article; Vol LII, No. 17

LENGTH: 1626 words

HEADLINE: American Sounds: A little music with your politics

BYLINE: By Jay Nordlinger

BODY:

   The big question on everyone's mind at our political conventions is: What

music are they going to play?

   Well, this may not be the biggest question, but it is an interesting one

nonetheless. Music has been part of our politics since the beginning-fifes and

drums and all that. At the conventions, aficionados like to speculate about what

music the organizers will play for certain speakers. (Sometimes-in fact,

usually-this speculation is mischievous.) They also like to divine hidden

meaning in the music that those organizers have, in fact, chosen.

   This choice, though minor, is not inconsequential: Get it just right, and the

speaker has a lift; get it wrong somehow, and you weigh him down.

   Gerald Ford provides an interesting case (really). For him, they have always

played "Hail to the Victors," the University of Michigan fight song. Problem is,

the song features the word "hail," sung over and over, always accompanied by the

thrusting out of an arm. When a stadium, or an arena, gets rockin', it looks

unnervingly like the rally at Nuremberg.

   For Jimmy Carter, they often played "Marching Through Georgia," until the

candidate complained that this was, after all, a northern song, celebrating the

South's-particularly Georgia's-most ignominious hour.

   When Ronald Reagan entered a hall, they usually used "California, Here I

Come," which was a little awkward, because-at least in 1976, 1980, and 1984-he

was trying to get to, or return to, Washington, D.C., not wanting to be sent

"right back where I started from."

   This year, too, contained its share of musical fun. At the Republican

convention, John McCain strode out to the theme from Star Wars, reminding people

that he had used imagery from this movie during the primaries ("I'm Luke

Skywalker, trying to get out of the Death Star"). For the Texans, there was a

lot of "Deep in the Heart of Texas," along with "The Yellow Rose of Texas"; they

both make for rousing convention numbers.

   The Republicans' cutest moment, however, came when Congressman Vito Fossella

walked out to talk about Social Security reform. The music? "When I'm

Sixty-four."

   And the GOP, bless its flag-waving heart, has found a bona fide anthem: Lee

Greenwood's "God Bless the U.S.A." They have used it for the past five

presidential campaigns, and it holds up surprisingly well, especially in

emotion-charged settings. This must be the most successful marriage of song and

party since "Happy Days Are Here Again" and the Democrats. If the Republicans

play their cards right, they will be firing up "God Bless . . ." for another

generation at least.

   At the Democratic convention, Hillary Clinton was greeted with "New York, New

York," a somewhat dicey choice: It emphasized that she is a newcomer to the

state, hoping to "make it." For her husband, the president, they played

terrible, electronic, fascist-sounding music, to accompany his terrible,

fascist-seeming entrance through the unseen (except on gigantic video screens)

corridors of the arena. Talk about Nuremberg; some of us wondered whether Leni

Riefenstahl had died (she has not).

   Clinton ended his speech with the admonition "Don't stop thinking about

tomorrow," whereupon, with sure timing, the convention-meisters blared the

Clinton theme from 1992 and 1996 (Fleetwood Mac's "Don't Stop . . ."). This has

been an effective song for the president, as every politician wants to be

thought of as forward-looking. ("Coming to America" seemed not to work for

Michael Dukakis in 1988, but then, to be fair to the song, Michael Dukakis

seemed not to work as a candidate.)

   Caroline Kennedy got, naturally, "Camelot," which was not really appropriate

to a political convention. The song is simply too fruity, too light, too

nothing. Her uncle, Senator Ted, however, was accorded the perfect song for his

entrance: "You're Still the One." It is a terrific pop number anyway, and it

delivered exactly the message the Democrats sought for their liberal lion,

forever a convention favorite.

   For Joe Lieberman? Not "Hava Nagila," as one Lieberman-weary wag had

speculated, but the theme from Chariots of Fire. This music, easy to swallow at

first, soon turns treacly and cloying-not unlike the candidate. But millions

love the Chariots theme, and the movie happens (well, probably not happens) to

feature a Jewish athlete who overcomes discrimination.

   Finally, the Big Kahuna, Al Gore: He enthused his way through the crowd to

the strains of syrupy, stringy, vaguely patriotic-sounding music that evidently

was composed specially for this event. If his fall campaign is not better than

this music, the Republicans have little to worry about.

   Speaking of politics and music, there has recently been released an album

that should belong to political junkies everywhere: "Presidential Campaign

Songs, 1789-1996," available from Smithsonian Folkways Recordings. The songs are

performed by the veteran folk artist Oscar Brand, and they are not only

instructive, but a sheer delight.

   Given the confines of a single compact disc, there is no room for the losers;

only winning candidates are represented here (with the exception of Henry

Wallace; folkies-being lefties-cannot help themselves). The songs are rich and

varied. They are uplifting, obnoxious, tender, wicked, hilarious, and probably

libelous. Many of them use popular tunes (such as "Yankee Doodle"); some were

written by noted composers (such as Stephen Foster-for James Buchanan). So

numerous were the ditties composed for political campaigns that parties would

publish whole books of them, for a single political year (as in, The Republican

Songster for the Campaign of 1860).

   We begin at the beginning: with George Washington, who had no opponent but

who had songs nonetheless, including one that goes, "The day is broke, my lads!

March on, and follow, follow Washington." John Adams's entry stresses his

friendship with the great man, the first president. Jefferson's is in a minor

key-it is a typical Scottish reel-and its words dramatically oppose the Alien

and Sedition Acts, promising that "the reign of terror now is o'er," and

continuing, "Rejoice, sons of Columbia! To tyrants never bend the knee. Join

with heart, with soul and voice, for Jefferson and liberty."

   These first presidential songs, unsurprisingly, remembered the Revolution-the

patriots dying, and so on. They were also pointedly anti-faction. Monroe's

anthem includes the line, "Oh, say, sovereign people, whose voice is the law;

whose will is supreme and keeps faction in awe!"

   Care for some negative campaigning? Try John Quincy Adams's "Little Know Ye

"-another Scottish reel, menacing and relentless-which warns of all the bad

things that will happen "if John Quincy not be comin'": "Slavery's comin',

knavery's comin', plunder's comin', wonder's comin', hatin''s comin', Satan's

comin' [yes, you read that right]-if John Quincy not be comin'."

   One of the most entertaining and derogatory of all these songs is that for

Martin Van Buren in 1836. Using a beloved lullaby, it mocks the candidate's

opponents, William Henry Harrison (Tippecanoe) and John Tyler, drawing

particular attention to the old general's . . . thirst: "Rockabye, Baby, Daddy's

a Whig; when he comes home, hard cider he'll swig. When he has swug, he'll fall

in a stew; and down will come Tyler and Tippecanoe." (It gets worse-and more

uproarious.)

   Harrison, though, fired back with a song of his own, of which the killer

stanza is, "Who rules us with an iron rod? Who moves at Satan's beck and nod?

Who heeds not man, who heeds not God? Van Buren!"

   Millard Fillmore's entry begins, "There's right and wrong in parties, and

right is on our side." Our thirteenth president was a divider, not a uniter.

   "Lincoln and Liberty, Too" states that "Our David's good sling is unerring,

the slave-o-crat giant he slew. So shout if you're freedom-preferring, for

Lincoln and liberty, too." "Grant, Grant, Grant" (set to the tune of "Tramp,

Tramp, Tramp") lambastes Andrew Johnson for being too soft on the South,

taunting, "Goodbye, Andy, you must go. For to Grant, a traitor is ever a foe."

(Furthermore, "We all will cheer the happy news, and the Ku Klux Klan will

shiver in their shoes.")

   Twelve years later, Garfield, too, played on fears of southern ascension. His

"If the Johnnies Get into Power," sung to the tune of "When Johnny Comes

Marching Home," warns, "Our laws they'll jeer, our flag they'll flout; they'll

try to turn our officers out. And we'll all wear gray if the Johnnies get into

power."

   Grover Cleveland's song, "Democrats, Good Democrats," stokes resentment over

the Stolen Election of 1876 ("Eight years ago, we won the prize, and then were

robbed by tricks and lies"). Benjamin Harrison's ditty makes vicious sport of

Cleveland's conduct in the Civil War (he arranged for a substitute); no

Republican even thought to say anything so harsh about Bill Clinton in 1992.

   And so the collection progresses into the 20th century, finishing with "Don't

Stop (Thinking About Tomorrow)." The entry for 1924, "Keep Cool and Keep

Coolidge," celebrates that president's humility and simplicity. The message of

Herbert Hoover's song is fixed right in the title: "If He's Good Enough for

Lindy [the aviator Charles Lindbergh], He's Good Enough for Me." (A rule in

politics: If you have the nation's foremost endorsement, flaunt it.) Jimmy

Carter's ballad for 1976 asks the governor's none-too-modest question, "Why Not

the Best?"

   At the end of his second inaugural address, Ronald Reagan spoke of the

"American sound." Well, these are American sounds, in all their strange and

cantankerous glory. They are not as lofty as the abstraction that Reagan

described; but they make our politics sweeter-and more lovable-all the same.