Music and Protest

There is a long history of music being used for protest purposes. Music has the ability to gather us - to call us to attention, and bring us together. It's no wonder that some of the greatest songwriters and music creators in history have used music as the vehicle to protest injustice and collectively call for action.

This past winter, during the height of the federal occupation in Minnesota, I was asked to join a panel of speakers for MPR on the role of music in this setting. It was wonderful to hear from the community as they called in and shared their experiences on the ground.

We saw a recent spike in musical protest activity these past few months, but there is a long history in Minnesota of choirs coming together to raise their voice in song. I spoke about some of this history during the interview and panel discussion.

At times, as professional musicians, we might be wondering what our role is in these moments. I certainly do. And yet, crises have a way of revealing simple truths. For me, music is one of the main ways I understand life. It doesn't exist separate from life - it is life. So, two things became clear this winter and spring:1) There was no way for me to not discuss what was going on in the music I wrote during this period. 2) There were days where it was more important for me to step away from my desk and join my neighbors outside. I did my best to honor this feeling; to listen to my body, to talk through what was going on with my friends in similar positions, and take the action that made most sense to me in the present.

MPR Interview

For those who grapple with their vocation and purpose in contexts like these, I believe it reflect inquiry - it's a good thing. But I'd like to share something with you that was told to me:

One afternoon, on a bitterly cold day (4 degrees Fahrenheit & windchill in the negatives), I joined a group of like-minded strangers to advocate for what we believed in. I was late to the party because I had a non-reschedulable Zoom call with music professionals around the country. Two minutes later, another late attendee hustled over and stood next to me. She was a psychologist, and her last appointment had run over because her patient was struggling to cope with the anxiety that seized so many of us in Minnesota at that time. We chatted about the intrusion of our work on our desire to gather, and the intrusion of ICE on our normal lives. This feeling was heightened for me because I knew I would have to leave the "party" early, as I had an evening pre-scheduled coaching with dozens of students, young people who were just trying to have a semblance of normalcy at this time. Still, I expressed my doubts to the psychologist, my uncertainty about whether participating in the day-to-day operations of my work was the right thing to do in this moment.

The psychologist spoke to me about the vagus nerve, a critical component of the parasympathetic nervous system (the workings of our body when it's not in fight or flight: metabolism, energy conservation, the immune system). The act of singing stimulates the vagus nerve, helping us regulate our bodies and find homeostasis. It's calming, soothing, and actively healing our bodies. "Your work is important, always, but especially so right now," she said to me. "Don't you forget it."

Remember this, fellow music-makers. Music is vital. Music is life. Music is people.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tNTw-T7O998