When the song “A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall” was first released in 1963, an entire generation was exposed to the horrific experience that made up one man’s post-nuclear fallout vision.  That song came from a different time, one where popular music was being sung and written under the belief that it could help society move forward and be responsible for some type of positive social change.  This was an era entrenched in Cold War politics, the Civil Rights movement, and a notion of pacifism where each participant held a personal stake.  Neil Young sang the verse, “Tin soldiers and Nixon’s coming / We’re finally on our own / This summer I hear the drumming / Four dead in Ohio,” a moving response and tribute to the dead students at Kent State University.  American society’s come a long way since then, and whether or not popular music as an art has progressed or regressed is open to speculation, but one thing is certain: the lyrical poems put to music that were once intelligent, symbolic messages for a generation have almost entirely disappeared, at least as far as anything that makes it to radio.  Every once in a while a singer will write something with far-reaching overtones and say it with backbone, like when we hear Radiohead’s Thom Yorke assume the role of dictator and firmly declare “When I am king, you will be first against the wall / With your opinion which is of no consequence at all.” What’s so disturbing about this image – aside from the song’s tone and Yorke’s voice – is that the fear evoked is universal.  While it might bring to mind regimes that could enact this scenario, the song is left open, reminding us of its possibility rather than singling out an individual as the sole cause of all our problems.  It is attacking an ideology, just like the two examples above, rather than a name.  There are few things more irritating from a political perspective than listening to somebody deliver an ill-informed and harmless message about some political leader.  

Why then are we in such a state that if a music group criticizes the government, rightfully or wrongfully, they are suddenly on the cover of national news magazines and the subject of endless discussion? The answer is simple: the media, along with the heads of most powerful organizations, many of whom grew up during the 1960s and are the only vestiges of that era’s “rebellion,” are the ones who have the ability to dictate topics of discussion while simultaneously ensuring  that they remain without any real public depth.  Matt Taibbi, formerly of the New York Press, summed this up nicely, stating “In a glib, permissive age where dissent, protest, certain forms of civil disobedience, and even the occasional arrest are superficially acceptable and even encouraged, the only real taboo when it comes to having political convictions today is meaning it.”  

There was once a time when you didn’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blew.  Jack Kerouac, a man who professed a somewhat apolitical ethos, wrote a book which influenced and shaped a whole generation.  The Dixie Chicks are all over the news today, but they’re not exactly the collective voice of a generation – one could almost make the argument that they have received so much publicity because of the non-threatening nature of their songs and the group members themselves.  There is also the fact, however, that they attempted to introduce some greater purpose into their music, and there is a real need for this.  

There have been a number of unintelligible protest songs in recent years which are usually praised by liberal outlets and criticized by conservative ones, not so much for content but for intent.  It’s almost obligatory for the major rock acts and rap artists to release the “We’re against the war” song or interview.  The problem is that while these actions might be implemented with the best intentions, it appears that the reason they’re embraced or even performed is the same reason people say they want to be Buddhists or wear bead necklaces and frayed jeans: the ideals of the 1960s have been reduced to a fashion statement, both by the people who originally lived them and by the later generations following the lead of their elders.  It is now safe to stand up against popular opinion because we can always say “we were young and stupid” once we’re old enough to really understand.  The people who grasp this concept are the ones who get picked up by the media because they bring the most flash, whether or not there is substance behind the appearance.  Anybody who simply has a message will likely be mocked; this is the mentality of our culture.  You can engage in a political conversation at a cocktail party endorsing contrarian views, as long as people understand that you’re just the crazy one of the group who has to be different.  Underneath the quirky shirt and loud voice, you’re just like everybody else.  

We can hope that there’s another Bob Dylan out there among us, but the truth is that if Bob Dylan were a 23-year-old trying to find a record deal today, he would be trying for a long time.  There seems to be a collective hope that somebody will come out with a voice and sound as powerful as those of years past who can still reach this era’s generation.  You can read reviews and tell that people want to believe they are listening to the album that will inspire and put an end to modern apathy, but so far this expectation has gone unfulfilled.  Re-living the 1960s would get us nowhere as I’m sure nobody wants to see a bunch of un-showered, upper-middle-class white kids running around, dropping tabs of acid in some imaginary Elysian field.  A vision of thoughtful, educated individuals is not so ridiculous, however – the possibility of this realization is certainly worth fighting for and shouldn’t be too much to ask for.

M R