2
RECENTLY, American singer Pat Benatar — who is touring through September, and will, in November, be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame — announced during an interview with USA Today that absent from her upcoming playlist will be her enduring pop song, ‘Hit Me With Your Best Shot’.
She will refrain from using it, she said, out of respect for the hundreds of families affected by mass shootings that, while not uncommon in other parts of the world, have increasingly become one of the badges of shame that so indelibly stain Lady Liberty. “I can’t say those words out loud with a smile on my face, I just can’t,” the artist said.
Few would disagree.
The tongue-in-cheek lyrics were written by Eddie Schwartz and the song was released as a single in 1980. It became Benatar’s first Top 10 hit on the Billboard Hot 100. Covers have been sung by many, and it is used to great effect in the quite lovely (for Anglophones of my generation) film Rock of Ages. But there is a time and a place for everything. The lyrics “Fire away” are no longer amusing metaphorical slang but a horrible, tragic reality for millions. Benatar may be prompted by the American gun culture that the National Rifle Association promotes so disgustingly, but the same form of tragedy holds true for millions — from Pakistan, to Palestine, to South Africa.
The veteran musician thus takes her well-earned place in a long line of music-minded conscientious objectors around the world, from across cultures, ethnicities, religions, etc, that use their art — for the purposes of this article, music — to express their political beliefs and hold up a mirror to the realities of their times.
Acts of courage in music are recognised only now and then.
These persons of ethics are lauded here and there. On these pages, for example a wonderful piece of writing that stands out in my mind was titled ‘The arc of Joan’, chronicling the artistic journey of Joan Baez and how her political convictions shaped her music. There is an entire pantheon, from Leonard Cohen (eg ‘The Partisan’, with its hauntingly Auden-esque lyrics), to the Scorpions’ ‘Wind of Change’ (though following the Moskva would these days attract enemies, and not win brotherhood — ideology notwithstanding), to Pussy Riot, Alice in Chains with ‘The Rooster’, to say nothing of giants that tower so big that to mention them would amount to disingenuousness — such as Pink Floyd or Arlo Guthrie’s classic ‘Alice’s Restaurant’ (and let’s not even get into the jazz and blues tradition). I do not use the label in vain: consider, for example, Billie Holiday’s ‘Strange Fruit’: the lyrics by Lewis Allan drawn from a poem by Abel Meeropol about the lynching of Black Americans, or The Boomtown Rats’ ‘I Don’t Like Mondays’.
These acts of conscience and courageousness are recognised now and then, but nowhere near enough are they part of the mainstream discourse or allowed to be influential to their true potential. For the one Bob Dylan with his well-deserved Nobel, there are thousands of others who write and sing about their convictions into voids that are regrettable for the smallness of their constituent percentages. Compare with other modes of cultural expression that are thought of as more ‘serious’, such as film, the novel, or poetry, etc, and it emerges that the contributions of music — especially when it is ‘pop’, or part of ‘popular culture’ — go dismally unrecognised.
Yet culture and expressions of it are woven into the human DNA, so much so that the influence is often felt and recognised without being quite understood. In the context of Pakistan, for example, a very large body of theory applies to apparently knee-jerk moves such as the periodic bans on our cinemas showing films from across the border, the resentment of older generations against youngsters’ fondness for Bollywood music. Our decision-makers might not necessarily be able to articulate or adequately theorise why they feel defensive or resentful, but the realisation is vivid enough to prompt protectionism.
On the other side of the world, concerns about the hegemony of the American culture industry overshadowing the Anglophone parts of the continent prompted Canada many years ago to put in place protectionist laws and guidelines — Cancon, or requirements for American media giants operating in the land of the maple leaf for ensuring percentages of Canadian content. This predicament holds true for very many parts of the world.
Culture matters. This fact is firmly established: in theory, in research, in academia, in lived experience. And there are many routes to conscientious objection. Think of the subversiveness of Shehzad Roy’s ‘Laga Reh’, for example. For such naysayers, too often relegated to the sidelines as ‘pop’ flotsam in a world so ‘real’ it’s difficult to bear, should be reserved another hall of fame: one where the courage of those melding music and political beliefs is given the honour it deserves.
The writer is a journalist.
hajrahmumtaz@gmail.com
Published in Dawn, July 30th, 2022
