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.