As I write this, the world is waking to news of Trumpâs indictment. Itâs a moment many Americans stopped anticipating long ago, attuned as we were to the never ending cycle of outraged media anchors, pontificating legal experts, and promises that this time, things were different. As they were with the Mueller report. As they were on January 6. And so on, and so on⊠except this time, it was true. Things were – are – different.
So why donât we care?
Itâs been nearly eight years since Trump first started dominating American discourse. In that time, he hasnât changed in the least. Me and my compatriots have. The American public is no longer surprised by his behavior, nor are we in the dark about his appeal. Somehow, Trumpâs first demonstrable legal woes feel too familiar to matter. Weâre a different people than we were in early 2015. Each of us changed slowly, and Trump changed us all very fast.
And he did it with a lot of online help. One example is âTrumpularâ, a song by popular Australian musician Nick Bertke, or Pogo. You can listen to it here. You will probably think itâs innocuous. Iâm less convinced. I think Pogoâs mix of Trump speeches creates a frivolous and upbeat front only to make Trump more palatable. To make the famous âAmerica First!â slogan sound like no big deal. It is, I think, a case study in the tools that change minds.
Much of the songâs pleasant character is already expressed in the section between 0:07 and 0:36. The drum beat begs you to dance. The bass line effects a rolling, winsome quality while the guitar riffâs airy tremolo tames the composition into a soft pop genre for broader appeal. Later in the window, strings push upward in pitch, as if awakening to a hopeful message. All of these sounds support Trump himself, whose words have been ripped out of order and away from meaning to create a stable metrical structure. Pogo even modifies Trumpâs pitch. He makes Trump sing. Bereft of politically charged lyrics, flush with universally appealing instrumentals, and respectful of basic musical structure, Pogo initially crafts the rare Trump-based content that few listeners would be ashamed to listen to.
It should be said that none of us were comfortable seeing Trump in this way when Trumpular was initially released. October 2, 2016 was peak presidential election cycle, days before the Access Hollywood tape settled the election and weeks before Jim Comeyâs email announcement blew it wide open. There was no listening to Trump without his political aspirations imposing on the situation. We were afraid of the other candidate, of each other, and for our country. For a musician to release a song with Trumpâs political words but without apparent political meaning was unheard of, and those who discovered Trumpular soon after its release probably took an outsized interest in the song to uncover Pogoâs political leanings.
Imagine occupying this mindset when, at 0:37, following thirty seconds of music that defies political interpretation, Pogoâs strings, bass, and guitar suddenly drop away to the sound of âAmerica First! America First!â and a crowd chanting at tempo. Weâre launched into a Trump election rally with nothing save a drum pattern keeping us grounded in song. We desperately want to know why. Too bad for us, as a few seconds later the bass, guitar, and unintelligible lyrics return accompanied by the fresh pep of a drumbeat on cymbals. Pogo revives and enlivens the inoffensive momentum defanging Trump before 0:37, preventing those with contempt for the man from souring on Trumpular or even judging Pogoâs intent.
Shortened and no longer disruptive to the songâs instruments, the next two inclusions of âAmerica First!â do not demand the listenerâs attention nearly as much as the first. The tune no longer plays second fiddle to Trumpâs slogan. It carries on. We mellow out. The new âAmerica First!â is seamless. Suddenly, itâs not the slogan thatâs off-putting. Itâs how the slogan initially sucked up all the air, suffocating the instruments. This is Pogoâs elegant trick: convincing us âAmerica First!â is just another mindless soundbite to exploit for musical effect. Just noise.
It should be said that we now know Pogoâs political convictions. Heâs a talented musician whoâs spent most of his career letting his music speak for him. In a February 2017 interview with Steven Crowder, however, he rather sheepishly admitted to believing Trump was âa necessary change in the winds,â an opinion heâd struggled to share as a public figure with apolitical branding. Intentional or not, these political leanings entered into his music before they were ever made public – and have somehow never entered the wonderful songs heâs created since (some of my personal favorites include Grow Fonder and Mazel Tov). In this way, Pogo mirrors many in their reaction to Trump; we were obligated to speak our mind when he first entered the scene. Now, weâve had our opinions for years, and weâre sick and tired of sharing them. Weâre also convinced they wonât change a thing.
Several audio cues indicate a forthcoming âresetâ of Trumpular near 1:11. The most important is a novel drum riff that culminates in upbeats, suggesting an end to progression. Not to worry, says Pogo – the listener is as safe from outlandish political messaging in the second half as they were in the first. Nonetheless, two important differences emerge. First, a shaker and cymbals flesh out the songâs array of instruments, rewarding continued listeners with a richer, ever-climbing musical palette. Inviting repeat listens. Second, between 1:43 and 1:47, when âAmerica First!â once again invokes a political rally, the interruption is accompanied by the same âresetâ drum riff mentioned above. The polarizing slogan may make its jarring return, but at least the added drum riff allows listeners to anticipate a more agreeable soundscape. The longer we listen, the easier it becomes to stomach injections of âAmerica First!â into our world. The longer we listen, the more Trump the harmless performer subsumes Trump the potent politician.
I remember watching the music video many times when I first discovered it. It mobilizes everything it can to lighten the mood: Trump doing the ALS Ice Bucket challenge; Trump eating a slice of pizza crust-first; Trump dancing on SNL. As with initial listeners, I wanted to know what Pogo was trying to say. Ironically, the more those who disliked Trump watched (perhaps in search of evidence Pogo shared their dislike), the more they were weakening their aversion. Here was a catchy tune that pulled off âAmerica First!â as a lyric. Trumpâs fans would listen and remain fans. Trumpâs detractors would listen and perhaps be drawn in.
The night Trump was elected, I was at a performance by my university’s student theater group. Theyâd styled the auditorium as a dinner theater. The cast would gesture to us and steal hesitant volunteers as extras from the crowd. This is all to say we shared the spotlight, and when news outlets started to project Trump as the next President of the United States, it meant I could study other attendeesâ faces to see who else was stealing quick looks at their phone (my apologies to the talented performers at my alma mater). What I saw was a changing mood. A worsening mood. Fears being realized offstage. The next day, my peers mumbled in class like zombies. I couldnât understand it. I thought dread was melodramatic where disappointment alone would suffice. Looking back, I see the time I spent consuming content like Trumpular online had inoculated me against Trumpâs rhetoric long before well adjusted people were worn down.
Years later, when Trump announced his reelection campaign, I was no longer the odd man out. Nor am I the odd man out in predicting few ramifications from the indictment. Thatâs the problem with getting used to what you shouldnât: that dying voice telling it to give up and go the hell away was actually yours. Weâre all cynics now, Iâm afraid.Â
Several audio cues indicate a forthcoming âresetâ of Trumpular near 1:11. The most important is a novel drum riff that culminates in upbeats, suggesting an end to progression. Not to worry, says Pogo – the listener is as safe from outlandish political messaging in the second half as they were in the first. Nonetheless, two important differences emerge. First, a shaker and cymbals flesh out the songâs array of instruments, rewarding continued listeners with a richer, ever-climbing musical palette. Inviting repeat listens. Second, between 1:43 and 1:47, when âAmerica First!â once again invokes a political rally, the interruption is accompanied by the same âresetâ drum riff mentioned above. The polarizing slogan may make its jarring return, but at least the added drum riff allows listeners to anticipate a more agreeable soundscape. The longer we listen, the easier it becomes to stomach injections of âAmerica First!â into our world. The longer we listen, the more Trump the harmless performer subsumes Trump the potent politician.
I remember watching the music video many times when I first discovered it. It mobilizes everything it can to lighten the mood: Trump doing the ALS Ice Bucket challenge; Trump eating a slice of pizza crust-first; Trump dancing on SNL. As with initial listeners, I wanted to know what Pogo was trying to say. Ironically, the more those who disliked Trump watched (perhaps in search of evidence Pogo shared their dislike), the more they were weakening their aversion. Here was a catchy tune that pulled off âAmerica First!â as a lyric. Trumpâs fans would listen and remain fans. Trumpâs detractors would listen and perhaps be drawn in.
The night Trump was elected, I was at a performance by my university’s student theater group. Theyâd styled the auditorium as a dinner theater. The cast would gesture to us and steal hesitant volunteers as extras from the crowd. This is all to say we shared the spotlight, and when news outlets started to project Trump as the next President of the United States, it meant I could study other attendeesâ faces to see who else was stealing quick looks at their phone (my apologies to the talented performers at my alma mater). What I saw was a changing mood. A worsening mood. Fears being realized offstage. The next day, my peers mumbled in class like zombies. I couldnât understand it. I thought dread was melodramatic where disappointment alone would suffice. Looking back, I see the time I spent consuming content like Trumpular online had inoculated me against Trumpâs rhetoric long before well adjusted people were worn down.
Years later, when Trump announced his reelection campaign, I was no longer the odd man out. Nor am I the odd man out in predicting few ramifications from the indictment. Thatâs the problem with getting used to what you shouldnât: that dying voice telling it to give up and go the hell away was actually yours. Weâre all cynics now, Iâm afraid.Â