Songs of America

Songs of America Plot Summary

Introduction

On a sweltering July day in 1968, as America reeled from the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. and Robert Kennedy, a crowd gathered in Washington D.C. to hear Nina Simone perform. As her powerful rendition of "Mississippi Goddam" filled the air, the audience witnessed something remarkable - a musical moment that simultaneously expressed deep critique of American failings while affirming the nation's highest ideals. This paradoxical quality has defined America's musical heritage from its earliest days, when revolutionary anthems helped forge a new national identity, through the spirituals that sustained enslaved people's hopes for freedom, to the protest songs that powered social movements. America's musical journey reveals how a nation perpetually divided has repeatedly found unity through its songs. Through war and peace, prosperity and depression, this musical tradition has served as both mirror and catalyst - reflecting the country's deepest conflicts while helping to resolve them. By exploring the songs that have defined pivotal moments in American history, we gain unique insight into how music has shaped national identity during times of crisis and transformation. For anyone seeking to understand America's complex character and ongoing struggles to fulfill its founding promises, this exploration of the nation's soundtrack offers an illuminating pathway through the discord toward moments of transcendent harmony.

Chapter 1: Revolutionary Anthems: Forging National Identity (1768-1812)

In the summer of 1768, as tensions between American colonists and British authorities intensified, a remarkable cultural moment unfolded. John Dickinson, a Pennsylvania lawyer, penned what would become known as "The Liberty Song," featuring the memorable line "By uniting we stand, by dividing we fall." Published in the Boston Gazette on July 18, 1768, this anthem emerged following the seizure of John Hancock's sloop Liberty by British customs officials, an incident that had inflamed colonial sentiment. The song spread rapidly through taverns and meeting houses, becoming one of America's first patriotic anthems. Music quickly became a powerful tool in expressing American identity during the Revolutionary period. As colonists moved toward independence, songs like "Yankee Doodle" were transformed from British mockery into proud American anthems. The British had originally sung it to ridicule colonial militiamen, but Americans embraced and repurposed it as a badge of honor. This musical reclamation symbolized a broader cultural revolution happening alongside the political one. When Washington's troops marched into New York after the British evacuation in 1783, they proudly played "Yankee Doodle" as their victory march. The Declaration of Independence in 1776 provided philosophical underpinnings that would inspire countless musical expressions of American identity. Thomas Jefferson's assertion that "all men are created equal" established an ideal that, while imperfectly realized, would resonate through American music for centuries. As the new nation formed, Francis Hopkinson, a signer of the Declaration, composed some of America's first original songs, including "My Days Have Been So Wondrous Free." Music became a means of defining what it meant to be American in a nation still discovering itself. After independence, partisan divisions quickly emerged, reflected in competing musical traditions. Federalists rallied around "Adams and Liberty" and "Hail Columbia," while Jeffersonian Republicans countered with "Jefferson and Liberty." These songs weren't merely entertainment but powerful political tools that helped Americans understand the ideological battles shaping their young republic. "Hail Columbia," written in 1798 by Joseph Hopkinson during tensions with France, became so popular that President John Adams and his cabinet stood when it was performed, establishing a tradition of musical reverence that continues today. The early national period also saw women and African Americans using music to assert their place in the new republic. In 1795, "The Rights of Woman" appeared in the Philadelphia Minerva, adapting "God Save America" to demand equality. Meanwhile, Phillis Wheatley, an enslaved poet who gained her freedom, wrote verses celebrating American liberty while highlighting the contradiction of slavery. Her poem "Liberty and Peace" proclaimed "Lo! Freedom comes," expressing hope that America's promise might eventually extend to all. These musical expressions revealed the tensions between America's ideals and its realities from the very beginning. By the early 1800s, America had developed a distinctive musical identity that reflected its complex character - idealistic yet pragmatic, unified yet divided, revolutionary yet traditional. The songs of this era established patterns that would persist throughout American history: music as protest, music as patriotism, music as a vehicle for excluded groups to claim their place in the national story. As the young nation entered the nineteenth century, these musical traditions would continue to evolve, always reflecting America's ongoing struggle to define itself.

Chapter 2: Civil War Songs: Unity, Division and Emancipation (1861-1865)

The Civil War era witnessed an explosion of musical expression that reflected the nation's deepest divisions and highest aspirations. When Fort Sumter fell in April 1861, composers rushed to capture the moment. George F. Root produced "The First Gun Is Fired" within three days, calling Americans to "arise! arise! arise!" Music became not merely entertainment but a powerful means for civilians, soldiers, and enslaved people to process the conflict's meaning and articulate their hopes for its outcome. Union songs like "The Battle Cry of Freedom" and "John Brown's Body" framed the Northern cause as a righteous struggle for both national unity and human freedom. Julia Ward Howe's "The Battle Hymn of the Republic," written after she visited Union troops in 1861, elevated the conflict to cosmic significance with its biblical imagery: "He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored." Meanwhile, Confederate anthems like "Dixie" and "The Bonnie Blue Flag" emphasized Southern identity and independence, often obscuring slavery as the conflict's central cause. Harry Macarthy's lyrics claimed Confederates were "Fighting for the property we gained by honest toil," later changing "property" to "liberty" to minimize slavery's role. For enslaved African Americans, music served as both spiritual sustenance and coded communication. Frederick Douglass recalled how songs like "O Canaan, sweet Canaan" carried double meanings – ostensibly about heavenly salvation but actually about escape to freedom in the North. When Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation on January 1, 1863, Black communities gathered in "rejoicing meetings," singing spirituals like "Go Down, Moses" with new verses: "Go down, Abraham, Away down in Dixie's land; Tell Jeff Davis To let my people go." The war's musical legacy extended far beyond the battlefield. After Lincoln's assassination in 1865, songs of mourning captured the nation's grief while expressing hope that his sacrifice would lead to "a just and lasting peace," as Lincoln himself had prayed in his Second Inaugural Address. The Fisk Jubilee Singers, formed at Nashville's Fisk University in 1871, brought spirituals to national and international audiences, helping preserve this profound musical tradition while raising funds for Black education. Frederick Douglass recognized their significance, telling them: "You are doing more to remove the prejudice against our race than ten thousand platforms could do." As the nation struggled toward reconciliation, music reflected both the promise and limitations of the post-war era. While emancipation had been achieved, full equality remained elusive. The songs of this period – from triumphant Union anthems to sorrowful spirituals – documented America's incomplete transformation and set the stage for future struggles over the meaning of freedom in American life. The Civil War era demonstrated music's power to articulate competing visions of America's identity and purpose. Songs helped Americans understand what they were fighting for and against, providing emotional frameworks for processing the war's unprecedented carnage. The musical legacy of this period would endure long after the guns fell silent, as Americans continued to use these songs to understand their national identity and the meaning of the war that nearly destroyed it.

Chapter 3: Progressive Era Movements: Music of Reform (1900-1920)

The dawn of the twentieth century brought dramatic social changes that found powerful expression in American music. The women's suffrage movement, which had roots stretching back to Abigail Adams's plea to "Remember the Ladies" during the Revolutionary era, gained momentum through songs that rallied supporters and articulated their democratic vision. "Daughters of Freedom, the Ballot Be Yours," published in 1871, became a standard of the movement with its stirring call: "Daughters of freedom arise in your might! March to the watchwords Justice and Right!" Music helped transform the suffrage cause from a radical fringe movement to a mainstream political force. Rebecca Naylor Hazard's "Give the Ballot to the Mothers," sung to the tune of "Marching Through Georgia," evoked the Civil War's theme of deliverance with its chorus: "Hurrah! hurrah! we bring the jubilee! Hurrah! hurrah! the homes they shall be free!" These songs were performed at massive demonstrations, including the October 1915 parade in New York City where twenty-five thousand marchers with fifteen thousand yellow banners were cheered by a quarter-million spectators. The Nineteenth Amendment's ratification in 1920 represented a new "day of jubilee" in American history. Simultaneously, African Americans organized to challenge the system of legalized segregation that had arisen after the Civil War. In 1905, W.E.B. Du Bois led the formation of the Niagara Movement, declaring: "The battle we wage is not for ourselves alone but for all true Americans." James Weldon Johnson and his brother J. Rosamond Johnson created "Lift Every Voice and Sing" for a Lincoln's Birthday celebration in Jacksonville, Florida, in 1900. The song spread organically through Black communities, becoming known as the "Negro National Hymn" and eventually adopted as the official anthem of the NAACP in 1919. A pivotal moment in this era came on Easter Sunday, April 9, 1939, when the African American contralto Marian Anderson performed at the Lincoln Memorial after being denied access to Constitution Hall by the Daughters of the American Revolution. Eleanor Roosevelt resigned from the DAR in protest, and Interior Secretary Harold Ickes arranged for Anderson to sing before 75,000 people on the National Mall. When Anderson sang "My Country 'Tis of Thee" with the pronoun changed to "to thee we sing," she transformed Samuel Francis Smith's individualistic anthem into a collective statement of belonging. The Progressive Era also witnessed the rise of labor movements that used music to organize workers and articulate their demands. Joe Hill, an organizer for the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW), wrote songs like "The Preacher and the Slave" that adapted familiar religious tunes to critique economic inequality. These songs spread through factory floors and picket lines, helping workers understand their struggles as part of a larger movement for economic justice. When Hill was executed in 1915 on dubious murder charges, his last words became legendary: "Don't mourn, organize!" His musical legacy continued to inspire labor activists for generations. The Progressive Era's musical expressions reflected America's contradictions – a nation proclaiming democratic ideals while denying full citizenship to many. Yet these songs also demonstrated music's power to inspire social change. As Jane Addams observed, "The principle of racial and class equality is at the basis of American political life, and to wantonly destroy it is one of the gravest outrages against the Republic." The music of this period helped Americans imagine a more inclusive democracy, even as the struggle to achieve it continued.

Chapter 4: Depression to Victory: Resilience in Crisis (1929-1945)

The Great Depression plunged America into unprecedented economic hardship, creating a stark divide between the optimistic promise of "Happy Days Are Here Again" – Franklin Roosevelt's 1932 campaign theme – and the grim reality captured in "Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?" This 1932 song, popularized by Bing Crosby, gave voice to millions of Americans who had played by the rules yet found themselves in bread lines. Its narrator, a veteran of the Great War who had "built a tower to the sun" and "made a railroad run," now begged for spare change – a powerful indictment of a system that had failed ordinary citizens. Woody Guthrie emerged as the Depression's most authentic musical chronicler, traveling the country and documenting the struggles of displaced farmers and workers. Songs like "Dust Bowl Blues," with its vivid imagery – "I've seen the dust so black that I couldn't see a thing" – captured the environmental catastrophe that compounded economic suffering. Guthrie's response to Irving Berlin's patriotic "God Bless America" was "This Land Is Your Land," which celebrated America's natural beauty while questioning its economic arrangements: "In the shadow of the steeple I saw my people, By the relief office I seen my people; As they stood there hungry, I stood there asking Is this land made for you and me?" Roosevelt's New Deal programs brought not just economic relief but cultural initiatives that recognized music's importance to national morale. The Federal Music Project employed over 15,000 musicians who performed for more than 30 million Americans between 1935 and 1939. These concerts brought classical and folk music to communities that had never experienced live performances, while also preserving traditional American songs through field recordings. The president himself projected unwavering optimism, declaring in his 1933 inaugural address that "the only thing we have to fear is fear itself." Though privately Roosevelt wondered if he could rescue capitalism and democracy from the existential threats of fascism and communism, publicly he never wavered in his belief that happy days would return. As World War II approached, American music reflected growing international tensions. Irving Berlin revived his 1918 composition "God Bless America" for Kate Smith to perform on Armistice Day 1938, with its references to "storm clouds" gathering "far across the sea." After Pearl Harbor, George M. Cohan's "Over There" returned to popularity with its call to "send the word, send the word over there, That the Yanks are coming." Glenn Miller, the popular bandleader who joined the Army Air Force, declared his mission was "to put a little more spring into the feet of our marching men and a little more joy into their hearts." The war's end came with tremendous sacrifice but ultimate victory. When Roosevelt died on April 12, 1945, just weeks before Germany's surrender, the naval chief petty officer Graham Jackson played "Going Home" on his accordion as the president's body was moved to the train. Woody Guthrie's tribute to the fallen leader captured the nation's sentiment: "Dear Mrs. Roosevelt, don't hang your head and cry; His mortal clay is laid away, but his good work fills the sky; This world was lucky to see him born." Through depression and war, American music had helped sustain national resilience in the face of extraordinary challenges. The period from 1929 to 1945 demonstrated music's power to both reflect and shape America's response to existential threats. Songs documented suffering while maintaining hope, criticized failures while affirming core values, and ultimately helped Americans understand their shared identity during the nation's darkest hours. This musical legacy would prove crucial as the country faced new challenges in the postwar world.

Chapter 5: Civil Rights Movement: Songs of Freedom (1955-1968)

The civil rights movement of the mid-twentieth century was inseparable from its music. As John Lewis, who marched from Selma to Montgomery and later served in Congress, observed: "If it hadn't been for music, the civil rights movement would have been like a bird without wings." Songs provided courage in dangerous moments, unified diverse participants, and articulated the movement's deepest aspirations. Martin Luther King Jr. recognized that "in a sense, songs are the soul of a movement," comparing civil rights freedom songs to the battle hymns that had sustained Americans through previous conflicts. "We Shall Overcome" emerged as the movement's defining anthem. With roots in African American spirituals, labor movement songs, and church hymns, it evolved through multiple versions before becoming the song that King said "really sticks with you." Its stately, dignified melody and lyrics expressing both determination and hope – "Deep in my heart, I do believe, We shall overcome someday" – made it the perfect vehicle for a movement committed to nonviolent resistance. When protesters were jailed in Albany, Georgia, in 1961, even some guards were reported to be "singing and humming songs along with the prisoners." The Freedom Singers, who emerged from the Albany Movement, exemplified how music could transform fear into courage. Bernice Johnson Reagon recalled a tense moment in Dawson, Georgia, when police entered a church meeting: "They stood at the door, making sure everyone knew they were there. Then a song began. And the song made sure that the sheriff and his deputies knew we were there. We became visible, our image was enlarged, when the sound of the freedom songs fill all the space in that church." Songs like "Ain't Gonna Let Nobody Turn Me Around" listed obstacles – injunctions, hatred, racism, jail cells – that would be overcome on the march to "freedom land." The March on Washington on August 28, 1963, showcased music's central role in the movement. Joan Baez sang "We Shall Overcome" to the crowd on the National Mall; Bob Dylan performed "Only a Pawn in Their Game" about Medgar Evers' assassination; Peter, Paul and Mary sang "Blowin' in the Wind"; and Mahalia Jackson delivered powerful renditions of "I Been 'Buked and I Been Scorned" and "How I Got Over." When King began his address with a prepared text, Jackson called out, "Tell 'em about the dream, Martin," prompting him to extemporize his most famous passage. King closed by quoting "My Country 'Tis of Thee," framing the civil rights cause as fundamentally American. The movement faced terrible violence, including the September 15, 1963, bombing of Birmingham's 16th Street Baptist Church that killed four young girls. Nina Simone responded with "Mississippi Goddam," declaring she was "sick and tired of being sick and tired." Sam Cooke's "A Change Is Gonna Come," released in late 1964, became another anthem of the era, combining personal testimony – "It's been too hard living, but I'm afraid to die" – with a vision of eventual justice. These songs helped sustain activists through the difficult years that followed King's assassination in 1968, as the movement continued its unfinished work toward equality and justice. The civil rights movement demonstrated music's unparalleled power to sustain moral courage in the face of violence and injustice. Songs transformed individual fear into collective strength, articulated visions of freedom that laws alone could not express, and connected the struggle for racial justice to America's founding ideals. This musical tradition would continue to inspire movements for social change in the decades that followed, as Americans confronted new challenges to their national identity and purpose.

Chapter 6: Cultural Crossroads: Protest and Patriotism (1960s-2000s)

The 1960s ushered in an era of profound social upheaval that transformed American music and politics. The folk revival, led by artists like Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, and Peter, Paul and Mary, connected the civil rights movement to broader critiques of American society. Dylan's "A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall," written during the 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis, captured the apocalyptic anxieties of the nuclear age. As the Vietnam War escalated, protest music proliferated, with songs like Country Joe and the Fish's "I-Feel-Like-I'm-Fixin'-to-Die Rag" using dark humor to challenge military policies. The counterculture of the 1960s produced anthems that questioned traditional values and celebrated alternative visions of American life. The Woodstock Music Festival in August 1969 brought together half a million young people in what the New York Times called "an experiment in community living." Jimi Hendrix's instrumental rendition of "The Star-Spangled Banner," with its distorted guitar mimicking bombs and screams, reimagined the national anthem as both critique and affirmation of American ideals. Meanwhile, Aretha Franklin's 1967 cover of Otis Redding's "Respect" became an anthem for both civil rights and women's liberation, demonstrating how personal dignity connected to broader social movements. The cultural divisions of this era were reflected in competing musical visions of America. While the counterculture embraced protest and experimentation, more traditional expressions of patriotism remained powerful. Lee Greenwood's "God Bless the USA," released in 1984 during Ronald Reagan's presidency, celebrated American freedom and military sacrifice with its chorus: "I'm proud to be an American, where at least I know I'm free." After the September 11, 2001, terrorist attacks, this song experienced a massive resurgence, alongside renewed popularity of "The Star-Spangled Banner" and "America the Beautiful." Ray Charles's interpretation of "America the Beautiful" offered a particularly nuanced expression of patriotic feeling. His soulful rendition, which Barack Obama called "the most patriotic piece of music ever performed," acknowledged both America's beauty and its flaws. As Charles explained: "I love this country, man. And I wouldn't live in no place else... I think I got as much roots in this country as anybody else. So I think when somethin's wrong, it's up to me to try to change it." This combination of love and critique exemplified the complex relationship many Americans had with their national identity. By the early 21st century, American music had become increasingly diverse, reflecting the nation's changing demographics and global influences. Hip-hop emerged as a powerful voice for urban communities, with artists like Public Enemy, Tupac Shakur, and Kendrick Lamar addressing racial inequality, police brutality, and economic injustice. At Barack Obama's 2009 inauguration, the Reverend Joseph Lowery recited the final verse of "Lift Every Voice and Sing" in his benediction, connecting the civil rights movement's legacy to this historic moment. The musical journey that had begun with revolutionary anthems continued to evolve, reflecting America's ongoing struggle to fulfill its founding promises. Throughout this period, American music demonstrated its unique ability to both divide and unite the nation. Songs became battlegrounds where competing visions of American identity clashed, yet also provided rare moments of shared experience that transcended political divisions. From Bruce Springsteen's "The Rising," which helped Americans process the trauma of 9/11, to Beyoncé's "Formation," which confronted persistent racial inequalities, music continued to serve as both mirror and catalyst for social change. As the nation entered the 21st century, its musical traditions remained as vital and contentious as ever.

Chapter 7: Healing Divides: From 9/11 to Modern America

The terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, temporarily unified America's musical landscape as artists sought to process national trauma through song. At the "America: A Tribute to Heroes" telethon on September 21, performers ranging from Bruce Springsteen to Willie Nelson offered songs of consolation and resilience. Alan Jackson's "Where Were You (When the World Stopped Turning)" asked a question that resonated with millions, while Neil Young's "Let's Roll" honored the passengers of United Flight 93 who fought back against hijackers. Springsteen's 2002 album "The Rising" provided a sustained meditation on loss and recovery, with songs like "Into the Fire" paying tribute to first responders who "left the safety of their homes" to climb the stairs of the burning towers. This unity proved short-lived, however, as the Iraq War reopened American divisions. When Natalie Maines of the Dixie Chicks told a London audience in 2003 that they were "ashamed the president of the United States is from Texas," the resulting backlash—including radio boycotts, death threats, and public CD destructions—demonstrated music's continued power to inflame political passions. The controversy raised profound questions about patriotism, free speech, and the role of artists in times of war. Country music columnist Chet Flippo advised Maines, "You're an artist? And you have a message? Hey, put it in a song. We'll listen to that. But, otherwise—shut up and sing." The digital revolution transformed how Americans created and consumed music, democratizing access while fragmenting the shared musical experience. As streaming platforms and social media allowed listeners to curate personal soundtracks, the idea of a national musical conversation became more elusive. Yet certain moments still brought Americans together through song. When Barack Obama sang "Amazing Grace" during his eulogy for Reverend Clementa Pinckney, who was killed along with eight others in the 2015 Charleston church shooting, he tapped into a tradition of music as spiritual healing that stretched back to the nation's earliest days. The Black Lives Matter movement, which gained prominence following the 2014 killing of Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri, generated its own musical expressions. Kendrick Lamar's "Alright" became an unofficial anthem at protests, with its chorus "We gon' be alright" offering hope amid struggle. Meanwhile, country artist Eric Church's "Kill a Word" imagined eliminating hateful language from American discourse, showing how artists across genres grappled with the nation's divisions. These musical responses to racial injustice connected to a long tradition stretching back through civil rights freedom songs to antebellum spirituals. The COVID-19 pandemic of 2020-2021 created new challenges for American musical life while demonstrating its resilience. As concert venues closed, musicians found creative ways to connect with audiences through virtual performances. Yo-Yo Ma's #SongsOfComfort series on social media offered solace to millions in isolation. The pandemic also inspired new compositions reflecting on American identity during crisis, from Rhiannon Giddens's "Build a House" to Jon Batiste's "Freedom." These works continued the tradition of American music as both witness to suffering and source of healing. Throughout these tumultuous decades, American music has served as both battlefield where competing visions of national identity clash and healing force that transcends divisions. From Elvis Presley's "American Trilogy," which combined "Dixie," "The Battle Hymn of the Republic," and "All My Trials" into a single composition, to Lin-Manuel Miranda's "Hamilton," which reimagined the founding era through contemporary musical forms, artists have repeatedly demonstrated music's unique ability to express complex truths about American identity that political discourse often fails to capture. As the nation continues to navigate profound challenges, its musical traditions remain an essential resource for understanding the past and imagining a more harmonious future.

Summary

America's musical journey reveals a nation perpetually engaged in conversation with itself about its identity, values, and direction. From colonial taverns where "The Liberty Song" first echoed to modern arenas where hip-hop artists critique social inequities, music has provided a forum where Americans debate who they are and what they stand for. This musical dialogue has never been more important than in our current polarized era, when finding common ground seems increasingly difficult. The songs explored throughout this historical journey demonstrate that Americans have always been divided in some ways, yet music has consistently offered possibilities for connection across these divides. The power of American music lies in its ability to express both unity and dissent simultaneously. When Marian Anderson sang "My Country 'Tis of Thee" at the Lincoln Memorial in 1939, she was both embracing American ideals and challenging America to live up to them. When Bruce Springsteen performed "Born in the U.S.A.," he was simultaneously celebrating American identity and criticizing American failures. This complexity reflects the nation itself—founded on noble principles yet always struggling to fully realize them. As we face contemporary divisions that sometimes seem insurmountable, America's musical heritage reminds us that the nation has weathered profound conflicts before and emerged stronger through honest engagement with its contradictions. By understanding how music has shaped our national journey thus far, we gain invaluable perspective on how it might help us create a more harmonious future—one where America's enduring promise of liberty and justice for all becomes reality for every citizen.

About Author

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Jon Meacham

Jon Ellis Meacham is an American writer, reviewer, historian and presidential biographer who is serving as the Canon Historian of the Washington National Cathedral since November 7, 2021. A former executive editor and executive vice president at Random House, he is a contributing writer to The New York Times Book Review, a contributing editor to Time magazine, and a former editor-in-chief of Newsweek. He is the author of several books. He won the 2009 Pulitzer Prize for Biography or Autobiography for American Lion: Andrew Jackson in the White House. He holds the Carolyn T. and Robert M. Rogers Endowed Chair in American Presidency at Vanderbilt University.

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