“Fantastic”: the protest song David Gilmour considered vital

Despite the aggression in the name, the parameters for what makes a protest song have long been up for debate. According to Ani DiFranco, the goal of a protest song is to make people “feel stronger and more alive.” For David Gilmour, it’s all about how it ties to real-world matters.

Some might say that’s too vague a criterion, but there’s a lot of truth in it, too. For instance, during times of immense societal upheaval, the biggest thing that people long for is control and to be heard, and protest songs are usually good tools for unity, no matter the echo chambers they usually find themselves in. In today’s climate, especially, the push for the politicisation of musical artists is particularly strong.

And with any burgeoning movement or changing expectations, there’s a coalescing sense of discourse confusion, where the whole thing almost becomes less about the issue at hand and more about what artists are supposed to do in the face of civil unrest. Despite the controversy his name might stir, Matty Healy’s speech during The 1975’s headline set at Glastonbury presents a fascinating case study.

“We honestly don’t want our legacy to be one of politics,” Healy addressed the crowd. “We want it to be that of love and friendship. There’s loads of politics everywhere. We don’t need more politics. We need more love and friendship.” Now, considering the fact that this preceded one of the band’s most politically-charged songs in their entire discography (‘Love It If We Made It’), this felt especially provocative and weirdly out-of-place for a band also in the crux of its biggest show in history.

The blurred lines of musical activism
But this also taps into a broader truth about musical expectations: should protesting be left to those with an in-built activist foundation, or do artists naturally have a duty to stand up and speak to the things that matter, establishing stringent positions in society and potentially ostracising audience members along the way? Well, artists since before even Elvis Presley (who also strongly committed to the impartial camp) have debated about what it means to have cultural relevance, and whether, although seen as cowardly by many, maintaining impartiality is the better (not to mention easier) way to go.

But let’s look at Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young’s ‘Ohio’. A direct and brave response to the Kent State University shootings, the song left no room for ambiguous interpretations, reinstating the significance at the crux of the protest song when done with absolute clarity when it came to where they stood on the matter. As someone with a deep love for artistic authenticity and honesty, it’s no surprise, therefore, that it caught the attention of a certain David Gilmour.

“We were on tour in America when ‘Ohio’ came out,” Gilmour told BBC Radio 2 in 2006. “There was all this thing about the Kent State University. The four kids who got killed there in the rioting, the demonstrations against the Vietnam War. So it’s just a great song.” He added: “They were always fantastic with that added to a little bit of Neil Young strength with the whole thing with Crosby, Stills & Nash’s great voices. Still a big fan.”

As such, for many like Gilmour and, of course, CSNY, a good protest song is one that addresses the issue with unflinching honesty, one that doesn’t pander to commercial subtlety to generate unnecessary layers. It’s one that stands proud in the form it is, owning its own space while dismissing the notion that music and politics have no place together. A good protest song is one that, put simply, cuts the bullshit.