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From Charli xcx memes to fan-made covers interpolating her famous “coconut tree” quote, Kamala Harris’s last-minute presidential bid against Republican candidate Donald Trump has had a fascinating and outsized relationship with pop music.
Various progressive singers, like Ariana Grande and Olivia Rodrigo, have pledged their support. Katy Perry offered one of her latest singles, “Woman’s World,” for the current vice president to use in her campaign, though Harris doesn’t seem to have taken her up on it. Meanwhile, Harris’s staff has found ways to use pop music to attract Gen Z voters, having Megan Thee Stallion perform at an Atlanta rally and fully embracing brat memes. This onslaught of memes and coconut-themed “remixes” has almost overshadowed the most crucial music-related decision involved in Harris’s candidacy: her campaign song.
Last month, it was reported that Beyoncé permitted the Harris (now Harris-Walz) campaign to use her song “Freedom” featuring Kendrick Lamar. Since then, the rousing gospel-tinged anthem from her 2016 album Lemonade has soundtracked Harris’s rally entrances and will inevitably be heard several times at this week’s Democratic National Convention. There’s even speculation that Beyoncé herself could make an appearance.
The modern campaign song has become its own character — and target of inspection — in election politics. Most of these songs have already achieved popularity outside of the campaign trail, so they need to be vital enough to re-energize constituents. They also have to be memorable and on message, embodying the values and promises of the candidate. But are they actually useful? What does it mean for a song to belong to a campaign?
Post-Trump, pop music is also something that Democrats have been able to leverage against the right — not just big hits themselves but endorsements from the artists who make them. Conversely, there’s a Wikipedia page of musicians who have opposed Trump’s use of their music on the campaign trail, in addition to opposing him as president. However, the results of the 2016 presidential election have made the public second-guess the power of pop music in this sphere.
Despite this skepticism, Dana Gorzelany-Mostak, an associate professor of music at Georgia College, argues that music can be an effective medium for politicians. “While it might not drive people to the polls, music models ways of being in the world and connecting with others,” she says.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
For a campaign like Harris’s that has mostly trafficked in “good vibes” and likability over discussions about policy — the vice president just unveiled her policy agenda — Harris’s campaign playlist provides an interesting window into what she represents and which populations she’s counting on for support. As Jonquilyn Hill wrote for Vox, Harris’s proximity to Beyoncé may even signal how she plans to conduct herself.
I spoke to Gorzelany-Mostak to get more insight into Harris’s musical selections and the overall function of campaign songs. Her book, Tracks on the Trail: Popular Music, Race, and the US Presidency, published last year, charts notable campaign songs and how these musical moments are used to articulate race.
When did presidential campaign songs really become a thing?
The election of 1840 was a watershed moment for the campaign song. The supporters of Whig candidate William Henry Harrison promoted singing as a campaign-worthy activity, and they published small booklets called “songsters” with pro-Harrison lyrics. These candidate-inspired lyrics were set to the popular tunes of the day.
What goes into picking a campaign song? Is the candidate even directly involved in this process?
It varies depending on the campaign. In 2008, Barack Obama’s staffers had the candidate’s music tastes in mind when selecting his playlist. There was continuity between the artists he discussed in interviews on the trail and his rally playlist, which included Earth, Wind & Fire, Stevie Wonder, and the Isley Brothers. Donald Trump is known to select his own soundtrack for campaign rallies, and when off the clock, he “spins” from his iPad at Mar-a-Lago.
What is the function of a campaign song, and why do campaign songs matter?
Candidates use music to constitute their identity in sound, to sonically construct themselves in a way that appeals to the public as well as offers insight into their character and their beliefs.
A campaign song is more than its lyrics. Candidates need to think about the myriad ways songs might signal messages in political contexts. This means taking into consideration the artist’s biography, the composition and character of the artist’s fan communities, the connotations attached to the song’s genre, and of course, the meanings a song has accrued through its presence in other media. While pundits may privilege the spoken word or images, sound and music can be just as powerful persuaders.
Overall, campaign music preaches to the choir. I don’t think it converts people or drives them away.
In Tracks on the Trail, you write about candidates articulating race through music. What do you think Kamala Harris is trying to convey by choosing songs, both formerly and currently, by high-profile Black women?
Black female artists form the backbone of Harris’s 2024 rally playlist — Diana Ross, Aretha Franklin, Chaka Khan, Whitney Houston, Beyoncé, Rihanna, Lizzo, Megan Thee Stallion. Harris elevates a matrilineal paradigm of Black excellence that spans 60 years.
This is a notable contrast to the classic-rock-dominated Republican National Convention last month, which featured a band of aging male rockers playing covers of the Eagles, Kenny Loggins, Grand Funk Railroad, Steely Dan, and the Doobie Brothers. Trump has questioned Harris’s leadership cred and her racial identity, so Harris uses her soundtrack to disrupt this narrative by leaning into the very identity that he critiques.
Harris’s previous campaign song, Mary J.Blige’s “Work That,” is a lot more light-hearted and fun, in tone and message, compared to Beyoncé’s “Freedom,” which is a more austere, urgent song. How do you think these songs reflect the differences in those campaigns or even the broader political climate?
“Freedom” does convey a certain level of urgency. But more broadly, Harris’s playlist reminds voters that they can acknowledge the country’s painful history, commit to the serious work that needs to be done, but still sing, laugh, and dance along with her on the path to victory.
Much of Harris’s playlist is composed of dance music, from Diana Ross and The Brothers Johnson to Dua Lipa and Bruno Mars, not to mention the more recent sounds of Charli xcx. To folks on the right, disco might signal the dangers of hedonism. But a genre that finds its roots in the leisure culture of Latinx, Black, and gay communities, it also points to a rich history of resistance and hope — even though these sounds have long since been domesticated, as evidenced by their presence on your mother’s gym playlist.
It is not surprising that some of the videos of Harris set to Charli xcx’s music show the candidate laughing, dancing, or mid-gaffe — Trump himself has even criticized Harris’s laughter. By infusing her playlist with unfettered expressions of joy and pleasure that are Black, queer, and/or female-centered, Harris manages to wrest the reins away from the male-centric gerontocracy, if only on the dance floor.
I find there’s a dissonance between the breezy, light-hearted tone of Harris’s campaign and the way it has been memed by Gen Z with the austerity of a song like “Freedom” — not to mention, “Freedom” is hardly one of Beyoncé’s most popular songs. Do you think this choice is a misstep?
Despite its more austere tone, I do think “Freedom” is a good fit for Harris. It brings together a lot of narratives that align with her campaign message and the presidential brand she is trying to cultivate.
“Freedom” adopts an almost prayerful tone in its adoption of gospel signifiers and its textual reference to the spiritual “Wade in the Water.” In the spiritual, water represents the possibility for escape in times of enslavement. In “Freedom,” water also comes in the form of “rain” and “tears.” This alludes to the aftermath of Beyoncé’s personal turmoil and the cultural trauma of New Orleans post-hurricane and of Black communities impacted by mass incarceration. The song also samples the voices of a mid-century prisoner and preacher, and Jay Z’s grandmother opening up about her own hardship in 2015.
In choosing “Freedom,” Harris is situating herself and the 2024 election in the lineage and the sound world of these transhistorical struggles, both personal and political.
It seems like Beyoncé’s co-sign is maybe more powerful than the song itself.
Beyoncé herself is a symbol of feminine power, endurance, and vitality. Her music defies categorization. She writes her own rules and regularly reinvents herself. So it’s no surprise that Harris wants to align herself with such a narrative as she embarks on her own reinvention from prosecutor to district attorney, to attorney general, to senator, to vice president, to president of the United States.
