Epilogue
You’ve read the comments from representatives covering a wide range of entertainment and media. As we mentioned, this book was sparked by a Rolling Stone review naming CSNY’s “Ohio” the greatest protest song of all time, and as the fiftieth anniversary of the Kent State tragedy was marked a cold reality set in. As the Rolling Stones told us, “Time waits for no one”, and as we and the surviving students age the impact of the events covered in “Ohio” become more distant and less relevant to those who did not live in those times. Trends in music, marketing and even delivery affect that as well, and many of students who attend Kent State today have little knowledge of the cataclysmic event on campus that likely marked the end of the Sixties mentality. As the Who’s Pete Townshend once said, we must accept change or get out of the way, but that doesn’t necessarily mean we lose some of the basic concepts that will guide us into the future.
One of the most talented songwriters of the rock and roll era is Russ Ballard. His songs have been recorded by a wide range of artists, including Roger Daltrey, KISS, Colin Blunstone, Three Dog Night and many others along with his work with Argent and his own solo career. Ballard’s music has covered a lot of different topics, including social injustice, and we asked him to comment on our theme of the changing role of messaging in music. He was quick to respond with words from his 2006 work The Book of Love, writing:
The eternal question. Man’s inhumanity to Man. There are so many people on this planet, all with different histories and backgrounds. What is common to all of us is being born and then, our upbringing, which is very important. What we learn from our parents. What we hear them say, what we watch them do. They are constantly with us (or they should be) and they are our only concept of God. They give us our language, they talk to us, read to us, tell us stories, they inspire us …if we’re lucky. They can make us cry, then they can hug us and make us feel safe, speaking softly and reassuring. Or, if they don’t do any of those things, then we’re fearful.
Because Mum and Dad are like God, when they’re loving, we’re secure and the world is wonderful place. When they are, otherwise, this is a scary world and a fearful place to be. So, from these beginnings we develop into many kinds of people…. happy, sad, guilty, warriors and worriers or many people. All of these things. So, for me, those formative years, the Mum and Dad, ‘God’ years, are all ‘education’.
Mum and Dad are our first teachers. They can teach us good stuff or bad. Then we have others, people we admire. Then there are teachers at school. One thing for me is that teaching is extremely important. How we’re taught. How much attention is paid to us. Does the teacher like me… or not! For me, it all comes down to, ‘Love.’ Do I have love for the person I’m with? Am I giving him or her my full attention? Am I listening?
We become adults and bring into life our happiness, sadness, our guilt and fear, all the stuff we gathered on our journey. Most of us have all of these qualities in varying percentages. It can appear there’s nothing emotionally secure in us. One moment we’re laughing, then crying, happy then sad.
You can’t be a violent person and expect peace. The world is you! You have to be the change you want to see in the world. We’ve heard this before, but it still has to be said. We all want to be physically fit, however, when the human puts as much energy into changing his violent ways as he does working on his muscles in the gym, maybe we’ll get somewhere.
Humans are also very tribal. In being tribal, we’re constantly separating ourselves from each other, as we are in countries. I’m Italian. I’m Russian. I’m African. I’m American. The list goes on when, in fact, if we take away the borders of all the countries, we would just be human beings sharing a planet. It’s the same with sport. “My team’s better than yours,” then “My town’s better than yours.” Politics is tribal, and then there’s religion. “The priest. The monk. The rabbi. So secure they know the way, won’t even listen to what the other has to say”.
Oh, the hippie “Peace and Love” generation was a beautiful idea, but when we have such inspired moments, we have to “stay with it”, not let it go, like a fashion or like a pair of cool shoes I’ll buy and discard tomorrow. It’s good that kids are being taught ‘mindfulness’ at school. I hope it doesn’t become just a list of symbols in a system. We’re good at that, but at least it’s a start.
After all’s said and done, everything, for me, should begin and end with Love.
That can be interpreted in any number of ways. Attitudes change, sometimes in disturbing ways, but that underlines many of the concepts offered by Ballard. So do trends in music, the way it’s delivered to the masses and its marketing. We use these resources to satisfy our own needs, but all might point to a simple solution.
Learn to love your friends and family and even your enemies. Learn from our mistakes but keep that central message alive. While the memories of cataclysmic events may fade with the years, as well as the way we express our emotions and the lessons we thought we learned the concept of co-existing and learning together must live on. When the Beatles wrote “All You Need is Love” just a few years before Kent State it may have been oversimplified, but it’s still a pretty good start…with a heavy dose of compassion, understanding and acceptance.
Artists have a platform we do not, and although our stories can go viral for a moment, the work and lifetime of a musician or comedian tend to echo throughout history. We look to these artists to voice our own beliefs. If it’s John Lennon suggesting peace is a thing we ought to try, or if it’s Lady Gaga insisting we’re born the way we are, as fans, we gleefully punch our fists into the air and feel a deep sense of gratification when they creatively express what we sometimes cannot.
Music has also given us something to hold on to — an identity. During the civil rights movement, rock and roll gave a means to band together against a cruel establishment that feared rock and roll because of its ability to bring us together, to give us creative youth leaders who didn’t see the need to color inside the lines anymore. Moreover, it’s given us the sense we’re heard or understood by the very artists we tend to idolize. Their words matter, our words matter. When Oprah said goodbye to her beloved television series in 2011, she was able to wrap up what she learned about humanity after her 30,000 interviews with these words, “They want to know,” she said, “‘Do you see me? Do you hear me? Does what I say mean anything to you?’” That longing exists everywhere in history, especially in political contexts.
When 2016 dawned, many who self-identified as apolitical were suddenly born-again activists. This era forced the formerly apathic to sit up and take notice. Aside from comparing Trump’s presidency to a “horse running lose in a hospital,” comedian John Mulaney — voice of the millennials — also pointed out in his Kid Gorgeous comedy special how he responds when people ask him, “Why were you never mad at the last guy?”
“Because I wasn’t paying attention,” he laughed. “I used to pay less attention before it was a horse. Also, I thought the last guy was pretty smart, and he seemed good at his job, and I’m lazy by nature. So, I don’t check up on people when they seem okay at their job. You may think that’s an ignorant answer but it’s not, it’s a great answer. If you left your baby with your mother tonight, you’re not going to race home and check the nanny cam. But if you leave your baby with Gary Busey…”
Yes, by 2016, it wasn’t enough to only admire the trailblazers of the Sixties and Seventies, believing we’d seen enough advancement since their time. Suddenly, the same issues they fought for popped back up on the menu. It was time to pay attention. It was time to illuminate those leaders from yesterday. There was no more space for apathy and no room for error. This was urgent. As Joe Biden put it in 2018, “We are in a fight for America’s soul.” As the climate became more extreme, impossibly polarized and even terrifying (Nazis made a splashing comeback for Heaven’s sake) popular music began reawakening protest messages we heard in the Sixties and Seventies and comedy took its best stab at reminding us to laugh through it. Biden’s message, along with the very vocal opposition to the status quo on multiple media platforms, brought dramatic change on election day 2020.
Jane Fonda pointed out five decades ago that artists, writers, poets, philosophers “were at the forefront of activism” during her defining age of protest. Fifty years later, they’ve arrived again, in new formats, using protest tactics new and old. How did this generation of artists feel as 2016 raged on? Were they afraid of what they were seeing too? Any fear or apprehension about putting protest messages? What do they hope to stir up in their audience? But ultimately, we wanted to know: which artists are comfortable taking sides?
Some of the most notoriously silent artists shook the dust off their keyboards and got to work. Meanwhile, many young artists sang about injustice for the first time as many seasoned artists found their old lyrics fitting the scene again just right. We became obsessed with discovering if artists would echo the acclaimed words of South African Anglican cleric and human rights activist Desmond Tutu, “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor. If an elephant has its foot on the tail of a mouse, and you say that you are neutral, the mouse will not appreciate your neutrality.” How many artists would mirror the sentiment of the acclaimed Paul Robeson? “Every artist, every scientist, every writer must decide now where he stands. The artist must take sides. He must elect to fight for freedom or for slavery. I have made my choice. I had no alternative.” What about Leonardo da Vinci’s thunderous proclamation, “Nothing strengthens authority so much as silence.”
To get at the heart of it, our research question was largely: Is protest a responsibility for artists? As predicted, the artists we spoke to and the ones we’ve researched gave us a mixed but compelling result. Some felt an obligation, a duty as not only artists but citizens. But some felt their industry should remain a safe space free of politics. No one should be tense walking into a comedy club. Let’s save the political commentary for the pundits. After hearing both sides, we cannot blame either for feeling the way they do. Let us also stress that comedy and protest is yet another topic rich with potential (and already being explored by the authors).
The shift in protest music’s landscape and genres is nothing short of colossal. Between the eras of protest we’ve looked at, movement leaders went from being mostly long haired folkies with an unplugged guitar and a grubby beard to hip hop artists with a mic, the truth and social media in their hands. One generation of pop culture protest gave birth to another and yes, they look different now. We’ve even seen artists ripping their gloves off; reaching unprecedented levels of fear and outrage. But the intention remains hauntingly similar to the generation before this: Do you hear us? Does what we say matter to you?
Finally, we’ve discovered all the ways representation matters. Hearing your anxieties on stage from the mind of an artist you adore makes a difference somewhere in our hearts. When Dave Chappelle accepted his Mark Twain Prize for American Humor award in 2019, he said he believes no other country could produce as many comedians as America. Calling comedy itself an “incredibly American genre,” he went on to promise, “I don’t think there’s an opinion in this country that is not represented in a comedy club by somebody. Each and every one of you has a champion in the room.” Artists are not just cranking out content for the almighty dollar, they are willing, in many cases, to be our representatives. Indeed, most of them are there to inspire you, entertain you and even champion you. We must continue to protect their art and be vigilant to threats against their work as well as the 45 words that make it possible. Its legitimacy, urgency and power must remain on our minds regardless if the commander and chief rocks red or blue (or orange). For many of us, no matter what the future holds, our days of a so-called apolitical life are long behind us. We’ve seen generations rise up to meet each other in a territory that is both old and new, using both music and comedy to relate to each other on new levels. Reminding us that we have more in common than we think.
The post 2016 climate has reminded us how small our world really is. Regardless of your platform’s size, if you have a gift to offer the world, do not underestimate its ability to heal, to unite and to spark optimism. Our words, our art, in all its forms are our service, our ministry to our corner of the world. Today, we have the speed, the technology and the urgency to share our work like never before and the world is watching, closer than ever before. Finally, if your service isn’t in the arts, don’t forget to take heed in those who offer it to you. Indeed, artists of all eras are our champions, our representatives and our faithful directors of escapism.
