Feb. 28, 2026, 10:01 a.m. ET
In late January, Bruce Springsteen released “Streets of Minneapolis,” memorializing Minnesota residents shot by Immigration and Customs Enforcement officials, weaving “ICE Out Now” chants into a chorus of Trump-era resistance.
A few weeks later, U2 unveiled “American Obituary,” one of five songs on surprise album “Days of Ash” the band recorded to “confront these maddening times.”
In February, Bad Bunny used his Super Bowl headlining movement to highlight Puerto Rico’s gentrification and economic struggles in front of 128.2 million viewers. He ended his performance holding a football inscribed with the message “Together, We Are America”.
Many of music’s biggest stars are politically vocal online and in interviews. Yet the majority of new music doesn’t feel tied to a defining protest moment. The songs arrive, circulate and fade out quickly. They don’t seem to have the same unifying power of ’60s era songs like “People Get Ready,” “Give Peace a Chance” and “The Times They Are A-Changin'” that spoke to the Civil Rights Movement, anti-Vietnam War protests and mid-century counterculture.
Today, the music is out there, protest is alive, and yet it feels like something is missing.
Why, in an era when artists seem more outspoken than ever, does it feel like we’re still waiting for a defining political soundtrack?
Protest music is ‘romanticized,’ but it’s not always overt
Songs as overt as Nina Simone’s “Mississippi Goddam” are transcendent emblems of the 1960s. “Mississippi” was explosive and controversial to the point where Simone faced intense blowback and eventually took a break from music altogether. But not every protest song was a hit, with esteem for some coming years later.
Dr. Tammy L. Kernodle, Miami University Department of Music professor, says for many Black artists navigating crossover radio, protest music often traveled through metaphor and spirit.
“Most of Black popular music up until that point had really stayed away from any type of overt protest narrative,” she says of music during the Civil Rights Movement. “Notice why I say ‘overt,’ because we’re always saying something, even when we’re not saying anything.”
Much of the music during the Civil Rights Movement didn’t “stick” in the way we assume, Kernodle says. The soundtrack to resistance thrived in specific settings; they were sung in the streets and in organizing spaces. Yet for Black music in particular, the hits of the time – from Aretha Franklin “Respect” to Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On” – used indirect messaging to make a point.
“It can be argued that most of Black music before our contemporary times is some form of protest music,” she says. “Black music has always had a strain of resistance in it. So whether we were expressing joy or we were actually documenting what were experiences of oppression or systems of oppression, we’ve always been singing.”
The reason we remember the ’60s era so fondly, she says, is it had a clearly identifiable soundtrack that was threaded throughout the promotion of political movements. She calls it “systematic” how the music of Nina Simone, Bob Dylan, Joan Baez – cornerstones of popular culture – became part of the consciousness of a larger moment.
That includes the era’s other causes. Anti-war campaigns saw Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young outcry the Kent State shootings in “Ohio” and Creedence Clearwater Revival slam the military draft in “Fortunate Son.” The pro-feminism movement saw Lesley Gore declare “You Don’t Own Me” and Aretha Franklin reclaim “Respect.” And an anti-establishment youth rebellion overtook music with help from Bob Dylan’s “The Times They Are A-Changin'” and The Beatles’ “Revolution.”
The era felt unified in its divergent movements, moving in tandem as the music demanded a more peaceful, equitable world.
“There is a soundtrack to this movement that we can’t identify with any other time. We can talk about the blues in the 1920s, but it is not associated with the type of mass mobilization and radical social change that is embodied, like what we see in the 1960s,” Kernodle says. “Those young people amped that thing up. And they did it with music because they understood that music was a way of really spreading ideology. It was also a way of disarming people’s ears.”
Why does it feel like political music doesn’t stick today?
Engaging in protest music may be harder now. Leading up to the streaming era, protest music surged in waves. The late 1980s and ’90s saw N.W.A.’s “F— tha Police” and Rage Against the Machine’s “Killing in the Name” take on police brutality. In the aughts, Green Day critiqued post-9/11 American culture with “American Idiot” and Willie Nelson returned to the charts with his cover of the satirical “gay cowboy song,” “Cowboys Are Frequently, Secretly Fond of Each Other,” cheekily affirming his longtime friend and tour manager coming out.
But musicians now have the added issue of a fragmented music culture. Unique algorithms put people on different sides of the internet and feed them songs similar to what they’re already listening to. And unlimited access to music via streaming makes it harder for smaller artists to break through.
“People are still playing music. They’re still doing shows, they’re still saying what they wanna say. They’re still finding an audience in that way. But there’s just so much more of it,” says Dr. Dave Powell, who teaches the course “Protest Music and Social Change in the American Experience” at at Gettysburg College. “There’s also a lot of art being made by people who are just responding to things on a day-to-day basis and that could be harder to find if you don’t know where to look for it.”
Music is also much less communal, and protest anthems require participation.
“We’re no longer a singing nation. We don’t sing collectively, cooperatively, and publicly,” said Kernodle. “We sang in church. We sang in school. You sang with your friends. You sang with the radio, video. And that disappeared.”
It’s also easier to identify protest music when there is a surge in resistance, whether that’s reflecting Vietnam anti-war sentiments in Bob Dylan’s “Blowin’ in the Wind,” Bush Era grievances in Green Day’s “American Idiot” or standing against Black Lives Matter-era racial injustice in Kendrick Lamar’s “Alright.”
When there is less of a sustained national uprising, you often see less of a musical response. So now, with a political resurgence in the streets and on campuses in support of Palestine or against ICE, a YouTube-famed folk singer like Jesse Welles can emerge as the protest song’s newfound champion. The “War Isn’t Murder” singer’s reactionary style of making music – which sees him release songs several times a month – may not be topping charts, but he has found a captive audience excited about what his presence means for the contemporary political anthem.
Today’s protest music carries new risks
For the artists without global stardom or creative control over their music, there is also the added layer of risk. Labels favor broad marketability and commercial viability, and potentially controversial records don’t usually fit the criteria. Today’s political songs are rarely promoted, and in kind, don’t impact the cultural zeitgeist as they did before.
“There’s always some manipulation. There’s always some censoring. There’s always a desire to promote artists in a particular way, especially because of that shadow of crossover being so important, particularly if you’re singing in what are seen as marginalized genres,” said Kernodle, referring to rap, country and R&B. “I think labels don’t want to promote that now because they don’t think that people have a desire for that kind of music.”
Established artists are able to take more risks, says Joseph Terry, senior lecturer in communications at the University of New Hampshire. Beyoncé rarely made openly political music until two decades into her career. When it did happen, marked by the Grammy-winning singer and her dancers appearing on the Super Bowl halftime stage wearing outfits similar to those made famous by the Black Panther Party, it led Rush Limbaugh and other conservative commentators to lash out and prompted the “Saturday Night Live” skit “The Day Beyoncé Turned Black.”
“Not everyone can be Bad Bunny, and be seen as a mainstream figure, but also be so political,” Terry says, pointing out that the Puerto Rican rapper and singer’s music, while fun to dance to, addresses colonization, gentrification and corruption in his homeland. Non-Spanish speakers may not be fully attuned, but it’s an affirming act of resistance for fans.
There is also a tendency for contemporary artists to make their political anthems less brazen – Bad Bunny rapping about not wanting Latin families to move away from their homes is a subtle referendum on economic insecurity in “DtMF,” and Lady Gaga singing about loving yourself in “Born This Way” was an affirmation to queer communities.
“It doesn’t matter whether a lot of people might not recognize that a song is political because as long as some people do, the point is coming across,” Terry says. Yet, “these simple acts of protest, I think, are seen as more controversial today, which is a larger issue than music.”
Music has never been neutral
At February’s Grammy Awards, multiple artists including Bad Bunny, Billie Eilish and Kehlani spoke out about ICE, garnering praise in the room but riling up some viewers on social media. Controversial comedian Ricky Gervais took to X after the ceremony to resurface comments he made during his 2020 Golden Globes monologue, in which he told the onlooking actors: “If you do win an award tonight, don’t use it as a political platform to make a political speech. You’re in no position to lecture the public about anything. You know nothing about the real world.”
“Instead of what they said to LeBron, ‘Shut up and dribble,’ (they’re) saying, ‘Shut up and sing a song,’ which is so absurd,” says Terry. “It’s a complete ignorance of so much of music of the 20th century.”
Some fans want artists with opposing views to stay silent. It’s a familiar refrain, likely to get louder if protest music make a mainstream resurgence.
There is also debate over whether music does anything to actually change hearts and minds. Organizing has persisted despite the lack of universal anthems. So why do we need them now? Well, art provides a mirror to what is happening and confirmation that more than one person sees something is not right. Protest music can make the difference between giving up or continuing to fight.
“Art doesn’t create movements, it reflects those movements and it can be used to sustain them and support them,” says Powell. “There’s a famous line attributed to Pete Seeger, that ‘A good song reminds us what we’re fighting for.'”
In the comments of one of Jesse Welles’ most recent songs, “Good vs Ice,” dozens of users thanked the singer for being a breath of fresh air in a time of such political volatility. One person wrote, “You are necessary bro. You are one of the only things the rest of us have any hope for, actually getting through the haze,” adding that despite feeling helpless, “You help us all feel a little less so.”
While Powell has spoken to musicians who feel that songs don’t change anything, he pushes back, saying that while it may be true that music merely reinforces views people already have, it still has a valuable purpose in political movements.
“If it sustains people, if it changes their views on a particular issue, if it gives them a sense of hope when they’re lacking one or forces a conversation that they otherwise wouldn’t have had,” he adds. “Woody Guthrie certainly had an impact on people. Pete Seeger certainly had an impact on people through his music. People like Nina Simone, Josh White, I mean these are great, great artists who change people’s ways of seeing the world because of music that they made, so to me that sure seems to make a difference.”
Protest music, like many things in contemporary American culture, is now immediate and reactive. And like the fights they’re inspired by, the music is still unfolding.