Rock 'n' roll has a long history of protest music.
From Woody Guthrie's Tear the Fascists Down to Rage Against the Machine's Killing in the Name, musicians have been poking power in the eye for decades. It's loud. It's uncomfortable. That's the point.
Right now, the amps are pointed squarely at ICE.
Springsteen has drawn headlines. U2 just added its voice. When global superstars wade into immigration enforcement, reaction is guaranteed.
But if you want to understand the emotional core of this moment, don't start with the arena tours.
Start with Billy Bragg's City of Heroes.
This isn't subtle. It's not abstract.
It's a song about complicity.
Bragg opens with the ghost of Martin Niemöller—the pastor whose post-WWII confession about silence in the face of Nazi persecution still echoes.
"When they came for the communists..."
"When they came for the Democrats..."
"When they came for Jews..."
The point is familiar: silence feels safe—until it isn't.
Bragg brings that warning into the present tense, asking: What excuses would you tell yourself if this ever happened to you?
That's not policy debate. That's conscience.
Then it turns personal.
The refrain isn't passive. It's not "I posted." It's not "I tweeted."
It's: "I got in their face."
When they came for immigrants…
For refugees…
For five-year-olds…
To my neighborhood…
When they dragged people from their cars…
Took families from their homes…
Murdered our sister…
Murdered our brother…
…I got in their face.
Bragg ends with a vow: to bear witness to terror, to tyranny, to murder, to fascism.
This isn't about policy. It's about refusing to look away.
I created a playlist of protest songs. Some were written in the shadow of fascism in Europe. Some were born in the civil rights era. Some were recorded in the last news cycle.
Different decades. Different villains. Same instinct.
When artists believe government has crossed a line, they write. They record. They dare you to listen. And to do something.
You don't have to agree with every lyric. You don't have to like the politics. You may think some of it is overwrought.
That's fine.
But protest music tells you something about the cultural moment—what people fear, what they value, what they think is at stake.
What’s missing from my protest pantheon? Drop me an email and tell me what else belongs on the playlist.





