For most people, the music of their youth defines them. They stick, in many ways, to the albums and songs that made them who they are today. It becomes an ever-present soundtrack. While this may be true for a most individuals, I find myself constantly seeking out new music that I have never heard just as much as I revisit albums I love. In the process of doing this, I come across countless songs that speak to the moment in which they were written, warning us about impending fascism and authoritarianism, and to our present moment where we come face-to-face with fascism and authoritarianism. I see this clearly now as I look back on a lot of the music that arose post September 11 and in protest of the War on Terror: the lies told about Iraq, the government overreach into our privacy, and more.

I didn’t really listen to Sleater-Kinney in the early 2000s. In fact, I only started listening to them when they reformed and released No Cities to Love in 2015.I never even went back and listened to their older stuff before that. If I didn’t teach Carrie Brownstein’s memoir Hunger Makes Me a Modern Girl in a class this semester, it would have taken me longer to dig into their back catalogue. Thankfully, it didn’t take me any longer because their 2002 album One Beat, a politically charged album responded to both the fear following the September 11 terrorist attacks and the unquestioned militarism that followed.

Brownstein details in her memoir how it felt like one had to choose a side and take a definitive stance. If you questioned the government’s response to 9/11, then you became a traitor because, as the equation went, you supported the terrorists. This was a time when we used the term “Freedom fries” for “French fries” because the French voted against our invasion of Iraq. This was the time when any statement against the government’s response could get you banned or canceled. This happened to The Chicks in 2003 when Nataile Maines criticized President George W. Bush at a concert in London. She told the crowd, “Just so you know, we’re on the good side with y’all. We do not want this war, this violence, and we’re ashamed that the President of the United States is from Texas.” Fans boycotted their music and radio stations refused to play their songs.

About this moment, Brownstein writes,

Writing songs after 9/11 felt treacherous. There wasn’t much of a vocabulary other than fear and patriotism. Many people felt a growing anger and distrust of the Bush-Cheney administration, yet public dissent or even questioning the status quo was likened to treason. The Dixie Chicks’ relatively mild comment admonishing George Bush while performing overseas would soon ignite vitriol, boycotts, and even death threats.

One Beat arose out of this moment, providing a convergence of the political and the personal in ways that define the album and the specific moment in the early 2000s. Brownstein notes that many critics labeled the album as “political,” but, she writes, “the common thematic thread on the record is less overtly political and more exploration of faithlessness, of trying to uncover hope or meaning in a time that was very, very bleak.” One need only look at the closing song on the album, “Sympathy,” too see this. Corin Tucker wrote the song as she struggled with the fears of possibly losing her son due to his premature birth and spending the first days of his life in the NICU.

While songs like “Sympathy,” “On Beat,” and “Light Rail Coyote” do not carry within themselves overtly political messages, others songs such as “Far Away” and “Combat Rock” do directly confront the politics of the period, and I would add that each of these songs continues to resonate today, especially in the face of our current moment. It is no surprise that Sleater-Kinney, coming out of the Riot Grrrl and punk scenes would respond to the jingoism and blind patriotism of the early 2000s through their music, and others, as I will write about in upcoming posts, did the same, namely System of a Down, Jaguar Love, Radiohead, and others.

On “Far Away,” Tucker details, in vivid imagery, her feelings on September 11. She sings about sitting all the way on the other side of the country watching TV, as she holds her newborn son. She sees “the world explode in flames,” glued to the images entering her living room. She sees people running through the streets, covering their mouths so as not to breathe in the dust and debris from the crumbling towers. As she watches all of this, she also thinks about the president, singing, “And the president hides, while working men rush in and give their lives.”

Tonally, the song conveys the sense of dread that Tucker and Brownstein relate through their lyrics. The feeling of fear and uncertainty of that day seeps through Brownstein’s and Tucker’s guitars while Janet Weiss’ drums set a percussive beat that resembles a march. The movement from bass to snare from bass to snare with a snare roll during the verses brings to mind a militaristic march, a movement towards war and action, while the ashes remain on the ground and rescue workers dig for survivors or the bodies of deceased individuals. This juxtaposition between fear and a patriotic fervor for retribution undergirds the song and particularly Tucker’s chorus.

Nothing, lyrically, in “Far Away” really feels overtly against the political moment. The line about the president hiding, for me, is really the only line that really addresses the politics of the moment, but the music, particularly Weiss’ drums, and the chorus where Tucker asks, “Why can’t I get along with you?” drip with backlash to the administration’s position and the War on Terror. Tucker asks, again and again, why we can’t get along, especially in the moment. She is asking why, if someone does not agree with the invasion of Iraq or the attacks in Afghanistan or other actions, a wedge appears instead of constructive dialogue. This questioning of “loyalties” and the ways that those who oppose any administrative action become “treasonous” manifests itself even more in “Combat Rock,” a song that Sleater-Kinney purposefully modeled after The Clash and their political songs on their album Combat Rock.

On “Combat Rock,” Sleater-Kinney become overtly political, not just bystanders of September 11. They directly confront the binary of either succumbing to bling patriotism or questioning it. Tucker opens the song by singing, “They tell us there are only two sides to be on. If you are on our side, you’re right, if not you’re wrong.” The line drawn in the sand serves as a problematic marker of loyalty, one that, if you find yourself on the “wrong” side, can get you ostracized like The Chicks. Tucker ends the first verse by explicitly questioning if we are “the paragons of good” mainitaing democracy abroad. This is the same question Lillian Smith asked during the Cold War, even noting that she understood why China and other nations went communist because they saw how the United States treated African Americans and others.

In the second verse, Tucker asks a series of questions that call upon us to think about the role of protest in our body politic, the role of protest as a foundational principle of our democracy. She asks, “Where is the questioning? Where is the protest song? Since when is skepticism un-American?” Skepticism and questioning are part and parcel of a democracy, they are ways for individuals to let their voices be heard and to show disagreement with the positions of those in power. Those in power may disagree, but when those in power work to silence individuals, then we no longer have a democracy, we have an autocracy.

Tucker continues, “Dissent’s not treason, but they talk like it’s the same. Those who disagree are afraid to show their face.” Her words echo James Baldwin who said, “I love America more than any other country in the world and, exactly for this reason, I insist on the right to criticize her perpetually.” Just because one criticizes or questions policy, it does not mean that they do not love the nation. It means that they want to see the nation live up to its values, to make the nation what it can be for everyone. Yet, the powerful don’t want individuals to question them, They want individuals to express their love for their country by buying “red, white, blue hot pants” and flexing their muscles.

Tucker’s words in the final pre-chorus drive all of this home because she points out that if we disallow dissent we revert to the past, a past where any semblance of equality did not exist, and we pave the way for autocracy. While the nation will come out “fists raised” placing the “good, old boys” back on top of the hierarchy, as they “lead us blindly, past becomes the future once again.” We must not forget that the First Amendment says that no law shall lead to “abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.”

Musically, “Combat Rock” really reminds me of The Clash’s song “Rock the Cabash,” a song about a Middle Eastern king who bans rock music and the protests that follow, extensively leading to the king’s loss of power. While not exactly the same, each has a similar feel, especially when during the section of “Rock the Casbah” where the fighter pilots ignore the king’s orders and where Sleater-Kinney have a short instrumental section before the final chorus. This stands out because it shows Sleater-Kinney’s protest lineage and the ways that punk, music, and art have always been political and acts of protest.

Next post, I’ll look at a few more songs from the early 2000s that I have been going back to lately in this current moment. Until then, what are your thoughts? As usual, let me know in the comments below. Make sure to follow me on Bluesky @silaslapham.