Rhythms and Revolutions: The Sound of Cold War Dissent

Jamie Markham, MA History

Jamie Markham is a student on the University of Lincoln’s M.A. History degree. He describes himself as an American social historian. His third-year B.A. dissertation ‘A Nuclear Family: Cold War Culture in the US Through Television Shows’ explores the complexities of television narratives in the Cold War. In this blog post he endeavours to uncover music and the rhythms which offered solace in the face of the uncertainty of this period.

Ralph Weir, Senior Lecturer, Lincoln School of Humanities and Heritage

Amid the emergence of nuclear weapon technology, music evolved as a potent source of inspiration for the nervous public in the US, offering solace amidst uncertainty. As geopolitical tensions surfaced, popular songs of the era carried the weight of worries, addressing themes of hope, identity, and impending doom. New technologies frequently bring with them as much fear as fascination. Many people today are concerned about recent advances in artificial intelligence, which might be turned to more ominous ends. With this in mind, this might be an ideal moment to consider how past societies responded to the threats posed by new technological developments.

It is valuable for a historian to consider the different mediums through which we can analyse history, with music acting as a crucial tool for interpretation. By examining the themes, emotions, and cultural contexts reflected in musical works, historians can gain deeper insights into the social and political dynamics of the time. While governments rushed to develop increasingly destructive weapons in the nuclear arms race, musicians and artists alike embraced popular culture to confront the unsettling possibility of total annihilation and the notion that civilisation, as they understood it, could come to an end. US citizens endured pressing expectations to embody symbols of stability, strength, and preparedness amidst the looming existential threats. In particular, the white middle-class suburban citizen became a bastion of security and tradition, embodying the values of conformity that were highly prized in the Cold War era. This pressure led many songwriters to suppress their true feelings and desires which often came out in their lyrics, serving as an emotional catharsis from the constraints of societal expectations.

Songs such as ‘Civilization (Bongo Bongo Bongo)’ by Danny Kaye and the Andrews Sisters, released in 1947, presented a light-hearted yet satirical take on Western superiority. The lyrics present a rejection of modern society, critiquing the frantic pace of life and superficial values that had come to dominate human existence. The song paints a picture of a world overwhelmed by technological advancements that permeated the post-war era, suggesting that these elements have eroded the essence of what it means to be civilised. The lyric ‘Don’t want no bright lights, false teeth, doorbells, landlords’ encapsulates the yearning felt by many Cold War citizens for a more meaningful life away from all things materialistic, which served as distractions for the more pressing concerns surrounding the potential of technology. Sung from the perspective of an African tribesman who has heard from missionaries that ‘Civilisation is fine’, he emphasises that modern conveniences do not concern him in the slightest and that he prefers the simplicity and authenticity of his life in Congo, ‘I’m so happy in the jungle I refuse to go’. In a world where the Western way of life was being sold as the idyllic lifestyle, songs like ‘Civilization’ questioned the suburban ‘tranquillity’ that was rather just another example of consumer culture.


Danny Kaye and the Andrews Sisters, ‘Civilization (Bongo Bongo Bongo)’, (1947).

[Chorus 1: Danny Kaye & The Andrews Sisters]
So, bongo, bongo, bongo, I don’t wanna leave the Congo, oh no no no no no
Bingo, bangle, bungle, I’m so happy in the jungle, I refuse to go
Don’t want no bright lights, false teeth, doorbells, landlords, I make it clear
That no matter how they coax him (Yep!)
I’ll stay right here


As white middle-class nuclear families settled into their suburban homes adorned with white picket fences, they constructed a façade of stability and contentment that masked deeper feelings of discontentment and a lack of personality. The song ‘Personality’ by John Mercer, 1946, perfectly encapsulates these feelings of discontentment towards the status quo. As Mercer challenges the notion that looks and status are the most important attributes a person can have, he shifts the focus to a woman’s personality, ‘A girl can get somewhere in spite of stringy hair…if she can show a faultless personality’. This sentiment resonates profoundly in a culture that prioritises superficial appearances over authenticity. In a world where families maintained carefully curated images on a picturesque suburban plain, Mercer’s advocacy for valuing character over looks resonates with those yearning for a more genuine existence amidst a fabricated lifestyle.


John Mercer, ‘Personality’, 1946.

(A girl can learn to spell and take dictation well)
(And never sit on the boss’ settee)
(Unless she’s got a perfect personality)

(A girl can get somewhere in spite of stringy hair)
(Or even just a bit bowed at the knee)
(If she can show a faultless personality)

A 'nuclear family' is pictured on a walk in the countryside on the front cover of a 1955 book titled 'The Happy Family'.

“The Happy Family” Golden Books,1955

Songs of the 1950s and 1960s showcased a tangible divide, with some expressing fear surrounding the use of nuclear weaponry whilst others conveyed a sense of fascination. For instance, ‘Orange Colored Sky’, performed by Nat King Cole in 1950, exhibited a feeling of impending doom with the lyrics, ‘I’ve been hit, this is it, this is it.’ Throughout the song, Cole emphasises the lack of agency and how regular people like him will be going about their daily lives when he could be faced with nuclear war ‘I was walking along minding my business when out of the orange-coloured sky…you came by’. His song reflects the anxiety felt by many US citizens and the lack of choice they had, sharing the concern that regular people were faced with the uncertainty that at any given moment they may be forced to meet their unnecessary death ‘Flash, Bam, Alakazam, and goodbye’. On the other hand, songs such as ‘Atom Bomb Baby’ by The Five Stars, 1957, reflect the fascination of technological advancements and the sheer power of the nuclear bomb felt by many ‘A nuclear fission in her soul, loves with electronic control… a million times hotter than TNT she’s just the way I want her to be’.


Nat King Cole, ‘Orange Coloured Sky’, 1950.

I was walking along
Mindin’ my business
When out of the orange colored sky
Flash, Bam, Alakazam
Wonderful you came by


The Five Stars, ‘Atom Bomb Baby’, 1957.

Atom bomb baby little atom bomb
I want her in my wigwam
She’s just the way I want her to be
A million times hotter than TNT
Atom bomb baby, loaded with power
Radioactive as a TV tower
A nuclear fission in her soul
Loves with electronic control


In summary, music became a powerful medium for expressing the complex emotions of the era, allowing individuals to navigate and express their feelings of hope, anxiety, and aspirations amid the turbulent backdrop of the Cold War. Through lyrics that resonated with themes of identity, discontentment, anxiety, and optimism, artists captured the spirit of a generation grappling with uncertainty.


Bibliography

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Brinkley, Alan. ‘The Illusion of Unity in Cold War Culture’, in Peter J. Kuznick and James Gilbert (eds.), Rethinking Cold War Culture (2001), 61-72.

Creadick, Anna. Perfectly Average: The Pursuit of Normality in Post-war America (2010).

Cuordileone, K.A, “Politics in an Age of Anxiety”: Cold War Political Culture and the Crisis
in American Masculinity, 1949-1960, The Journal of American History, Vol. 87, No. 2 (2000).

Gordon, E Richard and Gunther, Max. ‘Split level Trap’ (1961).

Jackson, T Kenneth. Crabgrass Frontier: The Suburbanization of the United States (1985).