Fame automatically garners respect, but we should expect more from our favorite activist musicians.
by Sommer Wagen
Colorful light bathed the main arena of the Xcel Energy Center, dousing the equally vibrant crowd whose eyes fixated upon Hayley Williams, the lead singer of the band Paramore. They were touring in support of their album “This is Why,” their first release in six years that discusses the intersection of internal and external turmoil.
“I can’t even get my own life together,” the band seemingly says in its succinct yet emotionally driven ten tracks. “How am I supposed to fix a world that’s breaking down around me?”
My twin, Ana, and I were among the mesmerized. As two queer, neurodivergent, mentally ill, traumatized Gen-Zers in the early stages of adulthood, we’ve always felt recognized and comforted by Paramore’s music.
In between songs, Williams was lauding Minnesota as a refuge for transgender people and people seeking abortions, in contrast with the band’s home state of Tennessee. She said she was proud to be performing there, but that there was still so much more work to be done.
“The most powerful thing you can do,” Williams said, raising her fist, “is vote.” The crowd received her call to action with a roar of approval.
Ana and I turned to each other, straight-faced, unimpressed. Here Williams was, a woman we share so much admiration for, who wrote so accurately about our acute generational sufferings, saying that the most powerful panacea was to occasionally fill out a piece of paper.
Hayley – Miss Williams, if I may – voting is actually not the most powerful thing you can do. Actually, to quote Lisa Simpson, “The whole damn system is wrong!”
I’ve been voting since I was 18, but in a state and metropolitan area where my rights as a queer person who could need an abortion are essentially inalienable. My voting efforts haven’t changed the fact that elsewhere in the state attempts are being made to ban books that have queer characters and themes. Or the fact that abortion rights remain in turmoil in my home state of Wisconsin. Or that across the country gerrymandering has and continues to effectively disenfranchise the people whose voices most need to be heard.
All of this isn’t to say that voting is meaningless; I recognize the obvious reality that if nobody were to vote, nothing would get done. But as someone from an admittedly more radical school of thought, I have trouble seeing how the bureaucratic action of checking a box is more powerful than standing in front of a police officer who has been trained to harm you in the name of “protecting” you.
Performative activism is an irksome disappointment but inevitable reality of the music industry. I recognize Williams could only say so much explicitly without putting sales and the band’s reputation in jeopardy. To their credit, the band also taps into more critical themes in the actual writing of “This is Why” (read the lyrics of “The News” or “You First.”) But their public-facing presentations read more like prioritizing profit and success over any of the political statements they make in their music.
It’s not as if notably outspoken artists are condemned to careers of obscurity, either. In 1992, Sinéad O’Connor famously tore up a photo of Pope John Paul II on SNL in protest against the Catholic Church, an act that triggered widespread backlash and set the tone for the rest of her career. Still, in her memoir Rememberings, O’Connor said making statements like that one were more important to her than having a No. 1 record. And still, she’s known as a talented artist and a bona fide iconoclast.
In 2000, the rock band Rage Against the Machine stormed and temporarily shut down the New York Stock Exchange while filming the music video for their song “Sleep Now in the Fire.” The incident made the final cut of the video, a scene apropos for a band whose success was built upon blood-pumping protest anthems. The band was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame this year.
What is notable about O’Connor and Rage is that they, unlike Paramore, understand their place in the world as platformed musicians. In the nebulous arguments of art vs. artist and intent vs. impact, musicians need to realize that they have more control over the narrative than they think.
The director of the “Sleep Now in the Fire” video Michael Moore, who was arrested during filming, later said of the incident, “For a few minutes, Rage Against the Machine was able to shut down American capitalism—an act that I am sure tens of thousands of downsized citizens would cheer.”
This downsized citizen grins widely and walks with heightened purpose when O’Connor’s “Famine” or Rage’s “Killing in the Name” comes on in their headphones. But when Paramore comes on, I wonder how closely I have to listen to hear the action behind the words.
Image credit: Unsplash