From 'Fortunate Son' to 'Y.M.C.A.', Trump is oblivious to the irony of his song choices

Much like his policies, the president's playlists are pure chaos

If you watched any of Trump’s big boy birthday parade on Saturday, you might have heard something strange.

I am not talking about the deafening silence of the sparse crowd, or Marco Rubio’s yawns, or those squeaky tank wheels.

No, I am talking about “Fortunate Son,” an instrumental version of which played as members of the Army marched down Constitution Avenue.

That’s right, Creedence Clearwater Revival’s iconic 1969 song denouncing privileged draft dodgers played during an event thrown by a privileged draft dodger, who famously used the excuse of “bad feet” to avoid going to Vietnam. The hit, written by Army veteran John Fogerty, who was drafted in 1966, has become virtually synonymous with the anti-war movement.

Is Trump just completely oblivious to irony? Has he ever listened to the song’s lyrics—specifically the first verse? “Some folks are made to wave the flag/ Hoo, they're red, white and blue/And when the band plays "Hail to the Chief’/Ooh, they point the cannon at you.”

Does Trump realize that “Fortunate Son” was written about people exactly like him, as Fogerty has made clear?

On social media, some people speculated that maybe, just maybe, someone in the Army chose the song in order to troll the president. It’s a compelling theory, but unfortunately it ignores the fact that Trump has used “Fortunate Son” at rallies numerous times in the past, suggesting that he either doesn’t know or doesn’t care what the song’s lyrics are actually saying.

“Fortunate Son” wasn’t the only head-scratching needle drop on Saturday. The soundtrack featured songs originally performed by artists who’ve explicitly denounced Trump and, in some cases, asked for him not to use their music at his events. There was “Sweet Child O’ Mine,” by Guns N’ Roses (whose lead singer, Axl Rose, once expressed his disdain for the administration and called the president a “threat to r democracy”); “My Hero,” by Foo Fighters (whose frontman Dave Grohl described Trump as “a massive jerk”) and “About Damn Time,” by Lizzo (who stumped for Kamala Harris in Detroit last fall).

But none of this is surprising coming from Trump, a man whose playlists are as chaotic as his policies. The president ignores the factors most normal humans consider when compiling music for a specific event, like mood, audience, lyrical content, or artistic intent.

During a town hall event in Pennsylvania last year, Trump swayed back and forth for 39 minutes while playing songs including “Ave Maria,” “November Rain.” Sinéad O’Connor’s version of ““Nothing Compares 2 U” (the late singer once referred to Trump as a “Biblical devil”) and Rufus Wainwright’s cover of “Hallelujah” (which the singer called “the height of blasphemy). At Mar-a-Lago, Trump has been known to musically force himself on others by playing DJ, going to the same well-known hits over and over again, like an FM station trapped in 1993.

Another baffling Trump favorite is “Y.M.C.A.”, the 1978 hit by the Village People. Written by Victor Willis and Jacques Morali, the disco anthem has been widely understood as a cheeky ode to an institution that was once a popular destination for gay hook-ups. (In the video, the Village People perform in front of gay NYC landmarks, including the dilapidated West Side Piers, and the Ramrod, a popular leather bar that was later the site of a homophobic massacre.)

Despite his open hostility to the LGBTQ+ community, Trump loves “Y.M.C.A.”, playing it at rallies for years and even on on his last day in the White House (the first time). He is also aware of its reputation: “They call it the gay national anthem. ‘Y.M.C.A.’ gets people up and it gets them moving,” he said in 2022.

Oddly, the only person denying the song’s gay subtext is co-writer Victor Willis (a.k.a. “The Cop,”) who has threatened to sue media organizations who imply the song is about anything other than the joys of affordable recreation. (Willis also performed at inaugural events in January.)

As tone-deaf as Trump often is, he is hardly the first conservative politician to completely miss the point of a song.

Only listening to the chorus has been a Republican tradition since at least 1984, when Bruce Springsteen released his seminal album, Born in the U.S.A., the title track of which may be the most chronically misunderstood song in American political history. (With all due respect to “Pink Houses” and “This Land is Your Land.”)

The verses tell the story of a disillusioned Vietnam veteran who returns home and struggles to find a job. It is a song about working-class despair, not American exceptionalism, despite that triumphant chorus.

During a stump speech in New Jersey in 1984, Ronald Reagan said that America’s future “rests in the message of hope in the songs of a man so many young Americans admire—New Jersey’s own, Bruce Springsteen.” His campaign reportedly even sought Springsteen’s endorsement, to no avail.

The Reagan incident has been cited as a major turning point for Springsteen, who was once reluctant to talk politics but later became a reliable progressive, speaking out when conservatives like Bob Dole and Patrick Buchanan tried to use his most famous song.

Springsteen is now one of Trump’s most formidable celebrity critics. Last month he called the administration “corrupt, incompetent, and treasonous” during a concert in the U.K.. Trump fired back by calling Springsteen a “dried-out prune of a rocker” and a “pushy, obnoxious jerk.”

Which may be good news for The Boss: he might finally be off the Republican playlist. And to think, it only took 40 years.

Meredith Blake is the culture columnist for The Contrarian