Each generation has its own music, and part of creating that music is rebelling against the music that your elders, particularly your parents, liked. In my case, this was easier said than done. I grew up in the early days of rock and roll, but my mother loved Elvis Presley, Buddy Holly, Chuck Berry, and many other early rock and roll stars, thus preempting the obvious targets for my rebellion. My older brother was the one who used to bring home the 45 RPM records of these performers and others such as Fats Domino, The Kingston Trio, and Marty Robbins. Sometime during my formative years, we bought a stereo or what passed for one in those days for folks without a lot of money. It had a little fold-down turntable and a speaker on each end that could be taken off and placed a few feet apart. Thousands of people had these cheap little stereos, which sounded pretty good. Of course, our frame of reference for sound quality was a small, cheap AM radio, so the sound didn’t have to be too great to seem superior.

So, my musical rebellion, such as it was, was delayed until the anti-war and civil rights movements brought a new kind of music into my life. While catchy tunes and a good beat were still fun for parties, these social and political movements introduced me to music that had something to say, something to teach, and something to inform my life. The real rebellion came when I picked up Phil Ochs’ album “All the News That’s Fit to Sing.” Not only was it a revelation in itself, but it led me back to Pete Seeger, Woody Guthrie, Leadbelly, and many more, and propelled me forward to Joan Baez, Judy Collins, Tom Paxton, and the rest of the ’60s folk scene.

When I was in graduate school in the cradle of racism and war mongering, South Carolina, at the end of the ’60s, my one small act of protest was to go into the student union at lunchtime, put a quarter in the jukebox, and play Peter, Paul, and Mary’s song “The Great Mandela” three times in a row. In one of those delicious twists of irony, Peter, Paul, and Mary had put out a song called “I Dig Rock And Roll Music,” which was a satire of pop music that didn’t really say much. So, of course, it became one of their biggest hits, reaching number 9 on the Billboard Hot 100 because nobody actually listened to the words, and it had a great catchy tune, and, as they prophesized, that was enough. Since the song was a pop hit, it ended up on the jukebox at the university. But the flip side of that 45 was “The Great Mandela,” and as an all-white, ROTC school that was gung-ho military and Vietnam, the song drove people crazy and right out of the student union. A small thing, but that small act of rebellion felt wonderful.

Decades later, I am still finding small ways to foster rebellion. As Marshall McLuhan told us, the medium is the message, and music, especially folk music, is the most effective way to convey the message of community, equality, and equity. It is effective because folk music is listening music, so people are more likely to pay attention to the lyrics and the message, especially when coupled with a compelling melody that catches people’s attention. So create your own little rebellion to bolster friends, family, and community.

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Ron Cooke is the author of a book of short stories and poems entitled Obituaries and Other Lies (available at Amazon); writes a well-received blog (ASSV4U.com/blog); and hosts a weekly radio show called Music They Don’t Want You to Hear on KTAL-LP in Las Cruces, NM.  He is also a founding director of A Still Small Voice 4U, a not for profit supporting arts, culture and community that presents folk concerts, sponsors artists, festivals and community groups. Ron is an avid cyclist, racer, blogger, sculptor and ne’er-do-well.