Great American Music for the 4th of July

Just a reminder: my mini-course of the Late Romances of Shakespeare begins August 2 and runs for six weeks. You can find out more here.

Okay, I’m tired of waiting for somebody to talk about how cool it is to be American on the eve of the 250th anniversary of the US of A. To be honest, Bill Maher did a wonderful “New Rule” about America on his show last night, but he is an outlier, especially among the left side of the political spectrum So good on him! My feed is generally saturated with Democratic Socialist bellyaching about the flaws of America (they never talk about the flaws of Socialism). I hold these truths to be self-evident.

Recently PloughStack ran a “Who is America’s Homer?” deal. Lots of people weighed in, both in the pages of the mag and around the social media ecosystems. Right after that dropped, at a real in-person gathering to read from Malcolm Guite’s new book Galahad and the Grail, someone asked me who I thought America’s Homer might be. I answered that the US, at the tender age of 250, is probably too young to have produced a Homer yet. But what I didn’t mention was rock ‘n’ roll. Let’s face it: rock ‘n’ roll is America’s greatest cultural export, so great that without it the Beatles, the Stones, and everything else would never have existed.

Mine is not necessarily a list of patriotic songs, but neither or they not patriotic. What they are is representative of the American folk-soul, one characterized by the spirit of adventure and frontier and all of the triumphs, defeats, joys, despair, and confusion that come with that and are part of being human.

Simon and Garfunkel: “America.” I had a hard time deciding between this one and “The Only Living Boy in New York,” but, in a list like this, you really have to go with “America,” don’t you? Maybe Paul Simon is our Homer.

Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, “American Girl.” One of the great gifts of America to the world of music is jangle—and TB and the HBs unapologetically rescued jangle from oblivion in the late 1970s. And this song is Exhibit A. And the lyrics “Well, she was an American girl / Raised on promises /She couldn't help thinking that there / Was a little more to life somewhere else” really speak to the American spirit.

X, “The Have Nots.” X is one of the greatest bands in American history. Just listen to them: No British invasion, no prog pretension, just punked up county and rockabilly. Pump that shit right into my veins. This track ends with a litany of bars pulled from local music scene tabloids the band would pick up on tour—and mentions The Aorta Bar, “Detroit’s Main Vein”!—a watering hole I used to frequent upon occasion in my youth.

The Blasters, “American Music.” The Blasters, friends and colleagues of X in LA’s vibrant music scene at the time, were proudly rockabilly. I ran sound for them once at Todd’s Sway Bar in Detroit. They blew the roof off the joint.

Lone Justice, “Ways to Be Wicked.” This band, also from LA, was like a shining city on a hill for a brief moment. But it fell apart almost as soon as it began. They were explosive—and Maria McKee was a force of nature (just watch her!) I was in band that opened for them a few days before or after this video (of a song, not surprisingly, written by Tom Petty) was recorded. She was a wonder to behold.

Michael Hedges, “Aerial Boundaries.” Guitarist and composer Michael Hedges, “The Pride of Enid, Oklahoma,” embodies the spirit of American innovation and exploration. He literally reinvented what could be done on a guitar. And… MY GOD.

The Jayhawks, “Waiting for the Sun.” These guys, haling from the Twin Cities, were so American that they inspired the term “Americana.” “Walkin’ on down the road” is about as American a sentiment as one might find. It was not lost on me, either.

The Smithereens, “House That We Used to Live In.” Arguably, an important (if often ignored) ingredient in the landscape of America’s contributions to music culture is the garage band. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you The Smithereens, who turned garage rock into poetry.

Walter Egan, “Magnet and Steel.” I am including this song because, first of all, it captured the nostalgia for 1950s American rock ‘n’ roll when it was released in 1978—but also because Egan wrote it about Stevie Nicks, who sings backups on it, and it was produced by Lindsey Buckingham. Talk about awkward!

The Mutants, “So American.” I bet very few have heard this one—but… it’s so American! And by “so American” I mean full of attitude and humor, a kind of smartassiness blended with pure rock bravado. The Mutants were the best of the punk/new wave bands of late 70s/early 80s Detroit. And they were so good live.

Paul Revere and the Raiders, “Him or Me.” Yes, they were a packaged confection (very American in that). Yes, their whole getup was hokey. But what an infectious piece of bubblegum! And, seriously, how could anyone keep a band named “Paul Revere and the Raiders” off a list for America’s 250th anniversary? The Redcoats are coming.

So that’s my list, which is, of course, preliminary. I could have included many, many more. What would you add?

God bless America!

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