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Ten notable instances when music and politics collided
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I'm not saying a fist bump with noted druggie/space cadet Perry Ferrell would completely derail Obama's campaign, but you never know. Alan Keyes seemed like a lock for the White House in 2000 until he jumped into that mosh pit. And you don't hear much from Bob Dole these days ever since he got all horned up over Britney Spears in that Pepsi commercial. Of course, the door swings both ways. Jimmy Carter's legacy has not been tarnished by the former peanut farmer's playing of Cheech to Willie Nelson's Chong. Some might even say the alleged pot connection between our 39th president and the red-headed stranger has only helped to endear the wrinkled Georgian Democrat to a whole new generation of registered, hemp-advocating voters.
If Barack acts a fool with Thom Yorke or tries to play one of John Popper's harmonicas (yes, Blues Traveler are going to be there), it will just be another incident to add to the list of weird rock n' roll moments that litter the landscape of American politics. Some of these moments are funny, some are sad, and some are just completely unbelievable (did Elvis really think he could show up to the White House and give the President a gun?).
Radar now submits for your approval ten notable instances when the worlds of music and politics collided violently and without warning. Brace yourself.
The dubious practice of blackface aside, Al Jolson was one of history's greatest entertainers. The boisterous singer's voice was supposedly so powerful it could rattle auditorium walls sans amplification. Jolie could never resist any opportunity to perform; after President Woodrow Wilson remarked during a private meeting that he'd never seen Al perform, the singer burst into "You Made Me Love You" as the creator of the Federal Reserve System ate breakfast.
Al Jolson had his share of presidential encounters, but none was more notable than the morning he met with president and man of few words Calvin Coolidge on the White House lawn in 1924. "Silent Cal" was so notoriously quiet and stony that when news of his 1933 death reached writer Dorothy Parker, she reportedly replied, "How can they tell?" Jolson, who had penned a new campaign song for Silent Cal, titled "Keep Cool With Coolidge," was able to rouse some emotion in the Vermont native. Jolie hung out with the president and his cabinet after newsreels captured footage of him singing his campaign song; the person laughing loudest at hammy Al's antics was none other than Silent Cal himself. Proof that sometimes all you need to crack a cool New England exterior is a shticky Jew.
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Harry Truman didn't merely meet or know a musician—he sired one. Truman's only child, Margaret, embarked on a singing career in her mid-twenties, while her father was riding high in office. Margaret found a moderate amount of success in her chosen field, working with greats such as Dr. Karl Krueger, Eugene Ormandy, and Helen Traubel. She even made it to Carnegie Hall in 1949 (of course, being the president's daughter probably didn't hurt).
Miss Truman was not without her critics, however: A performance in December 1950 prompted the Washington Post's Paul Hume to write that while Margaret was "extremely attractive," she "cannot sing very well. She is flat a good deal of the time." This review supremely irritated Daddy Truman, who fired off an angry reply in which the president warned Hume he'd need "a new nose," "plenty of beefsteak," and "perhaps a supporter below" if they ever met face to face. Truman was widely criticized for his less-than-presidential correspondence, but what do you expect from the guy who nuked Japan twice? Margaret Truman eventually gave up singing in favor of writing. Her 1980 title, "Murder in the White House," eventually became the Wesley Snipes film Murder at 1600.
The most infamous of all presidential pop culture summits, this meeting came about when Elvis decided he really wanted to meet the commander in chief. The Pelvis was convinced that hippie culture was ruining the nation's youth and that he, reigning King of Rock and Roll, could help. Big E rolled up to the White House with assorted members of the Memphis mafia and waited for his private audience with Richard Nixon. Few people at the time knew Presley had a gun on him—an antique firearm he brought as a gift for the president (which was accepted but not presented).
By all accounts, Nixon was slightly confused and very bemused by his unexpected guest. The president patiently listened to the bloated, pill-popping rocker talk about infiltrating youth culture to help end the drug menace; he then bestowed a special DEA badge upon Elvis to shut him up. In an ironic twist, Nixon apparently voiced his concern several times about the King's need to retain credibility. You know you've lost it when a guy nicknamed Tricky Dicky is warning you about keeping it real. The iconic photo of Nixon and Elvis shaking hands remains one of the most popular images in the free world.
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(Photo: Getty Images)
Willie Nelson is a well-known advocate of the green stuff (and we're not talking about lettuce or money). The country legend has been sparkin' doobs since he was 10 years old, he claims. So it should come as no surprise to hear that Nelson once allegedly snuck up to the roof of the White House during a visit with his presidential pal Jimmy Carter to get his weed on. The surprising part of this Washington legend is that either one or both of Carter's sons were up there with Willie, puffing and passing right under (or over, rather) the nose of the president. The story came up in a 2004 joint interview with Carter and Nelson (pun completely intended). The two old friends laughed and claimed they couldn't remember such an incident occurring. Of course, there is a chance Jimmy was up there, too, hittin' that funky junk while the American economy took a nosedive.
Hipness ran in the Carter family: Jimmy's daughter, Amy, once famously attended a Ramones concert. She also had friends who hung out with the Butthole Surfers (this lead to a gross but amusing story about lead Butthole Gibby Haynes' penis and a suitcase handle president Carter would eventually touch).
America's first "rock and roll" president wasn't as hip as history would have you believe. When the guys from Mudhoney showed up along with official invitees Pearl Jam to the White House in 1994, Bill Clinton was heard to ask Jam singer Eddie Vedder, "Now, who are these Mudhonies, and are they popular with the MTV?" Clearly Mudhoney was not as popular with White House staffers as their Seattle contemporaries: While Pearl Jam was quickly ushered away to meet Clinton upon arrival, the four 'Honey members got stuck with a dweeby Secret Service agent who was probably specifically instructed to keep scruffy bassist Matt Lukin away from the commander in chief. When they weren't being mistaken for Pearl Jam by dazzled D.C. tourists, Mudhoney gawked at Ulysses S. Grant's crystal whiskey flask, hung out in the Situation Room, and listened to stories about crazed White House intruders.
In a piece for Grand Royal magazine later that year, singer Mark Arm wrote that he enjoyed Mudhoney's visit to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, but was disappointed he didn't get a private audience with Clinton. Quoteth Arm: "I think I could have given him some good advice concerning that Whitewater ... scandal that's been nagging him."
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It was a dubious pairing from the get-go: billionaire Republican presidential candidate Steve Forbes and lefty rock group Rage Against the Machine, both scheduled as host and musical guest, respectively, for a 1996 episode of Saturday Night Live. The "Freedom" rockers were none too happy to be on with Mr. Forbes, and expressed this by hanging inverted American flags from their amplifiers. Moments before their first live performance, SNL, worried about offending Forbes and/or their sponsors, ordered stagehands to take the flags down. Rage went on anyway, playing their hit "Bulls on Parade." Moments after finishing the song, the band was curtly ordered to leave 30 Rockefeller Plaza. Naturally, this enraged Rage, particularly bassist Tim Commerford, who stormed into Forbes' dressing room and tossed pieces of the discarded flags at his entourage.
Rage would have played "Bullet in the Head" had they been allowed a second performance—a song NBC's parent company, GE, had a serious problem with. "It's a song ... about the media manipulation of public opinion during the Gulf War," noted guitarist Tom Morello after the incident. "GE was a major manufacturer of warplanes that were used to commit war crimes in the Gulf, specifically the bombing of hydroelectric dams, killing thousands of Iraqi civilians."
(Photo: Getty Images)
Let us now recap Republican presidential candidate John McCain's stance on several key issues: Guns? Pro. Abortion? Anti. Nine Inch Nails? Pro. Very pro. At least that's the impression the Arizona senator gave the world in an interview with MTV News following the channel's 1999 Video Music Awards. When McCain, who was in attendance, was asked which part of the program he liked best, the war hero remarked, "My personal favorite is Nine Inch Nails. I don't know how many of you like and admire [Trent Reznor], but—anyway, so I do." McCain went on to say he was "impressed" by the industrial rock band and reiterated the fact they were his favorite portion of the show. An image of Hip Pops McCain soon emerged, chilling in the back of grungy clubs while self-loathing heroin addicts pounded out a fury onstage. Trent Reznor probably second-guessed his own party status after hearing those comments. When later pressed by Fox News anchor Tony Snow (who cited a typically profane NIN lyric), Johnny Boy claimed his praise of the band was a joke. "I was trying to make light of this whole issue of the generation gap that many of us politicians have with younger Americans," said McCain.
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Smart money would bet Alan Keyes was voted in high school "Least Likely to End Up in a Mosh Pit." However, that's exactly where the Republican presidential candidate found himself in 2000, bumping around a flatbed truck with a group of young ruffians to the dulcet tones of (who else?) Rage Against the Machine. Filmmaker Michael Moore orchestrated the event for his television show The Awful Truth, which was searching for a candidate to endorse. "Just dive into the outstretched arms of 100 degenerate—but registered—youth, and you are our candidate," said Moore at the time. After Steve Forbes and George W. Bush passed on any pit time, the Awful Truth crew hunted Keyes down in Iowa. Several of the former Reagan ambassador's staffers came out and got caught in the mosh (including one who was dressed like Uncle Sam). Keyes himself eventually emerged and, against better judgment, climbed up the faux stage and fell backward onto the small sea of pit denizens.
"We knew Alan Keyes was insane," Moore remarked to reporters. "We just didn't know how insane until that moment." The mosh incident made worldwide headlines and proved to be one of the most hilarious moments in recent political history.
(Photo: Getty Images)
According to his underlings, President George W. Bush's musical tastes lean toward country and folk. Dubya's iPod apparently boasts the likes of George Jones, Joni Mitchell, and Van Morrison. None of those folks were available for the president-elect's 2001 inauguration ball, so Washington rang in its new Republican leader with muy caliente pop star Ricky Martin. In the middle of Martin's vibrant performance, who should wander onstage but George Bush himself. In a long black winter coat, matching gloves, and an extremely conservative haircut, Georgie Boy attempted to live la vida loca by putting his fists on his hips and swaying awkwardly. Martin encouraged the new president's bizarre attempt at dancing, and the ensuing minute or two made a nation instantly long for the days of a saxophone-playing adulterer named Bill. It was a horrible, frightening picture of two men living a complete lie, a harbinger of bad times and embarrassing photo ops.
In 2007, Martin attempted to distance himself from his alleged buddy Bush by making an obscene gesture while singing the president's name in the song "Asignatura Pendiente" at a Puerto Rico concert. We're guessing Ricky's name has been crossed off the White House Christmas card list.
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Bob Dole Leers at Britney Spears: March 25, 2001
Remember when Britney Spears was (to quote Tom Waits) hotter than melted butter drippin' off a hot biscuit? Then perhaps you remember that infamous '01 Pepsi ad in which Spears shook her goodies and sang about how awesome soda was while all manner of weirdos stared at her on television? One of those weirdos was none other than Bob Dole, whose 1996 bid for president flopped almost as hard as Britney post-K-Fed.
Sitting in an easy chair, gripping a bottle of Pepsi and wearing a grin that screamed sexual arousal, Bob stared at the young singing sensation with his trusty golden retriever by his side. The dog whimpered and barked at Britney as if to say, "Damn, I want to hit that." Dole told his four-legged friend to take it easy in a manner that suggested he was thinking, "Damn, I want to hit that, too." It was a creepy, slightly inappropriate moment (especially in light of Dole's pitching for Viagra). However, you can't fault an old man for seeing a pretty young thing on television and getting turned on with his dog. In a way, Dole practiced some restraint. You know Clinton would have tried calling somebody at Pepsi to get Britney's number.
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Posted by: steveintn on July 31, 2008 9:57 AM
Nice to see an article that doesn't brand Jolson as a "racist." Too many people see the blackface and jump to conclusions. Fact is Jolson had many black friends and went out of his way to help black performers break into mainstrean show business. His blackface stage character, Gus, was actually a slap at prevalent racist stereotypes. Gus was the underdog who was actually smarter and had more integrity than his white masters. Gus always figured out how to get them out of jams. Racists of the time were annoyed by Jolson's lampooning but most people let it slide because it was "comedy." But Jolson always got his point across.
The main thing to realize was that in the early 1900's when Jolson came up in show business, blackface was a very common theatrical convention, and people who used it were not all doing it maliciously.
Thanks again.
Steve