People deciding to be people: music and civil discourse

“If any real change is going to happen in this world, it’s going to be people deciding to be people. People are going to have to rise above the political system and structures. They’re going to have to unite on some sort of common humanity and make change that way.”

—Charlie Berens, comedian

One of the best things about living in the famously chilly upper midwest is that when it gets warm, people throw parties. Whether it be in a backyard or city park, everyone shows up—which was why, on the first 80* day of the year, Mr. No Dead Guys and I joined hundreds of our fellow citizens at a local beer garden. The park was packed with midwesterners of every age. Adults sipped beer, kids played games, and dogs wandered about looking for affection and treats. The sunshine was divine, the beer quaffable, but the glue that drew hundreds of strangers together into a singing, polka-dancing, conga-line forming community was the female-led accordion band (The Squeezettes) playing polkas and cover tunes. Everyone joined in; the music’s rough edges didn’t matter. And for the length of the band’s set, we were a community.

Part of the reason this struck me so forcefully was because it was a stark contrast to an experience I’d had a few weeks earlier when I inadvertently started an argument between well-heeled members of a book group. I asked about neighborhood safety—something I thought was a straightforward request for information, given that our city, like many other American cities, has been rocked by an alarming increase in murders and violent crime over the past several years. Well. One woman took a “hard left” line, another took a “hard right” line. Racism entered the exchange. Everyone’s blood pressure went up. Not surprisingly, no minds were changed. 

Sadly, stories like this aren’t uncommon. In an increasingly fractured and angry society, even innocent questions and statements can become tripwires and traps. We’re told we need to communicate to create better relationships and communities, but in a world of shrill statements and argumentative certainty, we’ve lost the ability to listen. All too often, conversation becomes a winner takes all smack-down, and compromise—the touchstone of any civilized society—becomes a dirty word. In a society where we’re losing the ability conduct civil discourse, how do we find common ground? How do we reach across barriers of experience, race, creed, color, and beliefs to find a language that connects us to our shared humanity?

When words are parsed and meaning is filtered through narrow personal and political lenses, it’s critical that we find non-verbal ways to communicate As musicians, we’re blessed with one of the most powerful communication tools known to humanity: music. Music is a language that transcends words, one that can circumvent the barriers of the mind and go straight to a listener’s heart. As Hans Christian Anderson once famously wrote, “when words fail, music speaks.” And when the political climate makes silence the only loving response, music—both humble and sublime—contains the power to create connection and community where perhaps none existed.

Music speaks in our concert halls and on our streaming playlists. It enlivens sports crowds and brings transcendence to houses of worship. It is the most gracious of hosts; in its embrace, we find that underneath the things that divide us, we all wish to connect to ourselves, our neighborhoods, and each other. It reminds us that on the deepest possible level, all of us belong and we’re all welcome. Music won’t fix political rifts. It won’t solve the very real problems that afflict our communities. But music gives us a two much-needed things: a release from the prison of our own thoughts, and a common wordless language. Perhaps it’s because there’s no way to start a political fight when everyone’s singing “Roll Out the Barrel.” Perhaps it’s because music reminds us that the key to a good party (and a functional society) is getting outside ourselves and joining the fun. In this way music to speaks to the best in all of us, in a language deeper than words.