What Happened To Protest Songs? Well, You've Gotta Fight For Your Right...

If Peter Garrett releases a brilliant protest song this year, he might be in for a bit of a shock. The Australia in which Midnight Oil burned deep and bright in the hearts of opinionated and vocal youth has been replaced by their docile children — staring at their phones in $200 sneakers, browsing Twitter. I am one of them. Aussie musicians like The Oils, Spy V Spy, Goanna, Paul Kelly, Archie Roach, Cold Chisel, Us Mob, Redgum (and yes, even) Supernaut waved the flag ahead of a youth culture defined by protest and debate. Now, protest music waves its hand between our faces and our screens, barely acknowledged.

When did protest music lose its power? Better yet, when did we stop listening?                        

These days, you'd be hard pressed to find music on the Aussie charts with the power to incite real world change. Protest music, by necessity, evokes anger and passion — a call to action. Bob Dylan led the revolt against the Vietnam War (whether he liked it or not), along with Joan Baez and We Shall Overcome — the peace-filled battle cry of the hippy movement. Brave women like Billie Holiday and Nina Simone risked their lives and their careers to pen Strange Fruit and Mississippi Goddam, vocalising their pain and anger at racism, segregation and black suffering. Move through to the punk period and The Sex Pistols screamed "ANARCHY" while The Clash yelled "SOCIALISM" in the face of nuclear warfare and the Thatcher-Reagan regimes. Hip hop and rap coming out of urban America in the '80s and '90s became a multi-faceted revolt against racism, poverty, class segregation, sex crimes and police brutality with artists too numerous to name. At home, The Whitlams called for a death to the pokies and Yothu Yindi pointed a finger at Bob Hawke and a country divided. The last time a protest song reached number one on the Australian charts (prior to Macklemore's Same Love in 2012) was in 1992 with Julian Lennon's Saltwater.

Protest music is being made by Australian musicians, and it's brilliant. But amongst the sea of songs about twerking, American pop hits and EDM fillers, it doesn't get the recognition it should. We're not paying money for it, and it's certainly not making us get off the couch. Sure, we have a Keep Sydney Open rally every now and again. But, unfortunately, a bunch of violent xenophobes clashing with Islamic protesters clashing with pro-diversity groups on a semi regular basis get all the coverage. Where's the music in all of this? Where's the unity in our divide? More importantly, where's the genuine concern in amongst the bandwagon riders?

#PrayForParis is now a designer T-shirt line. Merely tweeting your hurt or anger during the first 24 hours of a crisis is self-indulgent slacktivism, and we're all guilty of it. Make a fucking sign and stick it in your yard. At least #BlackLivesMatter has some actual physical protest behind it in America with artists raging along with them through Kendrick Lamar, D'Angelo, Dev Hynes, Janelle Monae and more.

America's musicians have seen the lack of 21st century bands protesting in the way of 20th century ones. They're doing something about it. "There's not music that speaks to what's going on right now," Cypress Hill's B-Real said in an interview concerning Rage Against The Machine's elite protest band Prophets Of Rage, which is driven by the brilliant thesis #MakeAmericaRAGEAgain. Beyonce and Jay Z paid the bail for some of the Baltimore protesters. The crowd chanted "Nigga, we gon' be alright" at the Black Lives Matter conference in Cleveland. In America, music and protest are still hand in hand, taking to the streets.

Australia's youth culture has a foundation of protest that is grounded in music. Certainly not to the extent of those overseas, but it's safe to say that in past decades protest music was a big part of our social consciousness. The link between music and protest has all but disappeared. Maybe it's because we're lazy. Maybe it's because we feel powerless. Maybe because we don't trust the government to take notice. Maybe it's because we feel our issues — like lockout laws or housing prices — are too first world to sing about.

But in an age that enables us to see on every piece of technology the pain and suffering of those in the farthest corners of the globe, it's a wonder that there aren't more Live Aid style movements. We're desensitised. Images of emaciated toddlers and massacred villages, cities bombed into oblivion and entire families clinging to a tinny in the middle of the ocean don't bother us any more. Flick a channel and go back to Master Chef.

Terror threats, same sex marriage, domestic violence, boat people, unstable and unreliable governance, environmental destruction, Aboriginal welfare, religious intolerance and racism are being sung about by Australian artists. Get behind them.

In the words of John Farnham: "We're not going to sit in silence, we're not going to live with fear."