Sydney Boettcher
Staff Writer

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I’ve long been fascinated by protest music. Art has always been our way of keeping tabs on the heartbeat of society, and that’s especially true with music. Songs like “What’s Going On” by Marvin Gaye and “Fortunate Son” by Creedence Clearwater Revival capture the anti-war movement of the ‘60s and ‘70s. Going back even further, “Which Side Are You On?” archives the labor struggles of coal miners in the 1930s. After nearly 90 years, that song is still covered and performed by artists like Tom Morello, Willi Carlisle, and Dropkick Murphys. These songs resonate with people and drive them to political action; I wanted to know why.

On Oct. 18, people across America marched in response to the Trump administration’s current actions. At the No Kings rally at the Traverse City Civic Center I asked people what their favorite protest songs were and why, what protesting meant to them, and how music fit into that.
When I first got there, the crowd was massive, much bigger than I expected. I didn’t know where to start. Then, someone caught my eye: an older man in a kilt carrying a Bodhrán drum.

A Bodhrán drum is an Irish drum, also called the ‘poor man’s tambourine,’ as it shares visual similarities with the instrument, and was originally built from farm tools. The Bodhrán was popular in the 18th century, but gained a massive modern resurgence after Seamus O’Kane altered the design and began mass-producing it.

The man’s name was Rob, and his favorite protest song was “For What It’s Worth” by Bruce Springsteen. Rob told me that he liked it because it was still relevant to what was happening today. Rob also recommended anything by Joan Baez.

Shortly after I arrived, the crowd started moving from the Civic Center to the corner of Fair Street and E Front Street, just outside of the NMC campus. I followed the protesters for a while, just watching. Some people were playing music from speakers: I heard Bob Dylan, Jesse Welles, and a few others; some people were chanting into microphones, keeping the energy up.

One person, Ben, was playing a Djembe (pronounced Jem-bay), a drum originating from West Africa. Its origins can be traced to the Mandinka caste of blacksmiths, and its spread is directly connected to the Mandinka diaspora during the first millennium.

Ben told me, “music is a way to bring people together, keep people motivated, [and] keep the rhythm going.” He said he had brought the Djembe to “make some noise.” His favorite protest songs were “War Pigs” by Black Sabbath and “With God on Our Side” by Bob Dylan.

Two women I spoke to, Kelly & Kris, were ringing cowbells. It wasn’t quite music, but it was close enough. Kris mentioned “Stars and Stripes” by Eminem. She had listened to it earlier today before the protest. She said, “It helps get you pumped up.”

While we were talking, Kris mentioned some counterprotesters who had driven by earlier, and voiced her support for them and their actions. “This is democracy, you’re free to believe in what you want, and so am I.”

One woman I spoke to, who has chosen to remain anonymous, said something that really interested me. She told me that she had an aunt who grew up in Nazi Germany, and how her father was “disappeared” by the Gestapo.

She also mentioned her father, who fought at the end of WW2, “You knew he saw some shit because he wouldn’t talk about it. Not like he couldn’t, but like he would always change the subject.”

She said that she was out here protesting today because she was afraid America was descending into that same dark place her aunt had grown up in.

She described herself as fairly new to protesting. “I wasn’t really political until my kids went to college. That’s when I got aware.”

Her first protest was the ‘Hands Off’ protest, a nationwide one-day movement similar to ‘No Kings’. She said that she “felt like I was doing something.”

“There’s power in numbers… It’s like pennies. A few of them don’t mean much, but they feel a lot bigger when there’s a whole jar of them. ”Music is the only language everyone on Earth can understand. It brings people together in ways few other things can. It evokes powerful emotions in the people it resonates with, and that is what makes it so potent as a vehicle for political messaging. Something about it hijacks a part of our brain and taps into something primordial. One man I spoke to, Alec, called it “the heartbeat of our species.” He compared it to the rhythm of our mother’s heartbeat, the first thing we all hear.