Rachel Platten’s “Fight Song,” infamously adopted as the unofficial anthem of Hillary Clinton’s 2016 presidential campaign, is more than just a forgettable pop tune; it’s a baffling and, dare we say, grating selection. This isn’t just a matter of personal taste; it’s a question of appropriateness and, frankly, musical quality. While intended to inspire and uplift, the song’s saccharine sentimentality and lyrical awkwardness rendered it utterly unfit for the gravitas of a presidential campaign.
The outcry against its relentless playing was immediate and widespread. Journalists openly pleaded for the sonic assault to cease, and even campaign insiders reportedly sympathized with the public’s growing aversion. The song’s catchiness is undeniable, in the way that a persistent mosquito buzz is undeniable – irritating and inescapable. It burrows into your brain not with melodic charm, but with sheer, repetitive force. Imagine the earworm equivalent of a political attack ad, and you’re getting close to the “Fight Song” experience. The decision to double down and release a sanitized, Kidz Bop-esque version for the Democratic National Convention only amplified the initial misstep, transforming a questionable choice into a full-blown public relations head-scratcher.
The fundamental issue lies in the profound disconnect between the song’s intended message and the realities of a high-stakes political campaign. Leaving aside any Fleetwood Mac aspirations, the selection process for a campaign anthem seems to have overlooked two critical criteria: thematic relevance and basic listenability. “Fight Song” stumbles on both counts.
But what exactly is “Fight Song” about? Beneath the empowering veneer, the song is essentially a self-affirmation anthem for overcoming personal struggles, specifically within the context of the music industry. It’s a narrative of resilience in the face of industry pressures and self-doubt. This personal, inward-looking focus clashes spectacularly with the outward-facing, policy-driven nature of a political campaign.
Consider the chorus, the very heart of the supposed anthem: “This Is My Fight Song / Take back my life song / Prove I’m alright song.” The lyrics, when applied to a presidential candidate, become almost comical. Was Hillary Clinton’s life somehow “taken away”? Was the presidency framed as a personal reclamation project? The lines intended to convey strength and determination instead land with a thud of bizarre self-absorption. The disconnect is jarring. It’s as if the campaign mistook a generic motivational track for a nuanced and politically resonant message.
While some might argue that many campaign anthems lack lyrical depth or direct political relevance, the crucial difference is that those songs often possess an undeniable musical appeal or a broadly applicable message of unity or hope. “Fight Song,” however, offers neither. Its simplistic pop structure and cloying lyrics fail to resonate beyond a superficial level. It lacks the anthemic quality needed to galvanize a movement or inspire widespread enthusiasm.
Rachel Platten, the artist behind “Fight Song,” may be perfectly pleasant, and the song’s commercial success is undeniable. It’s a double-platinum selling track with broad appeal in certain contexts. Perhaps it’s perfectly suited for background music in commercials or as a personal workout soundtrack. But its application to a presidential campaign felt forced, inauthentic, and ultimately, deeply misguided.
Instead of inspiring voters, “This is my fight song” became a symbol of the Clinton campaign’s struggle to connect with certain segments of the electorate. It highlighted a perceived lack of authenticity and a tendency towards overly polished, focus-grouped messaging. The song, intended as a rallying cry, inadvertently became a source of ridicule and a case study in campaign missteps.
So, let’s retire “Fight Song” from the political arena. Let’s keep its wrecking balls of empowerment confined to personal playlists and away from the serious business of democratic discourse. And let’s collectively hope that future campaigns opt for anthems that are not only catchy but also, you know, good and thematically appropriate.
