‘Please let me get what I want’: can artists stop politicians from using their songs?

Somewhere in Donald Trump’s orbit, embedded among the wild conspiracy theorists, worshipful toadies and dead-eyed schemers, there’s a Smiths fan.

This fact came to the nation’s attention last week after a video showed a Trump rally blasting the 1984 B-side Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want over the PA. And Johnny Marr, the onetime Smiths guitarist, wasn’t happy – in a tweet, the songwriter told fans to “consider this shit shut right down”.

It’s the latest colorful episode in a story that re-emerges every four years: the war between musicians and politicians over campaign songs. Artists from Abba to Aerosmith routinely clash with presidential contenders and other high-profile candidates over the use of their music at events and in promotional materials, with mixed results. (In Abba’s case, John McCain complied with a cease-and-desist letter over Take a Chance on Me. Steven Tyler of Aerosmith demanded Trump stop using both Dream On and, three years later, Livin’ on the Edge – though the band’s guitarist Joe Perry is a Republican.)

Most such incidents have been over the kind of anthemic tunes you’d expect to hear at a political rally – the rights owner condemned Bob Dole’s transformation of Sam & Dave’s Soul Man into “Dole man”; Journey’s Steve Perry told Newt Gingrich to stop playing Don’t Stop Believin’ (which later caused an intra-band rift over Trump). The Trump-Smiths feud, on the other hand, is over a band for the brooding indie crowd. The video of Morrissey’s crooning echoing through a venue full of Maga fans looks like a parody, given how difficult it is to imagine, say, Rudy Giuliani seated on his bedroom floor with a stack of mournful post-punk records, deep in his feelings. On the other hand, if any sad-boy music is going to appeal to Trump, the Smiths are good contenders. When it comes to self-pity, Morrissey and Trump are twin flames.

Trump, whom you may remember from his stint as the most powerful person in the world, often reminds us that “nobody’s been treated badly like me” – which is how ChatGPT would summarize every Smiths song. The difference, of course, is that the Smiths used their pain to bring solace to countless listeners, while Trump has used his to undermine democracy. Unfortunately, especially in recent years, the singer and the salesman have also seemed aligned politically, with Morrissey defending the far-right activist Tommy Robinson and endorsing a political party, For Britain, that the Brexit champion Nigel Farage called a bunch of “Nazis and racists”.

Still, Morrissey may be on the same page as his ex-bandmate Marr when it comes to Trump’s use of his music: asked a few years ago whether he’d kill Trump with the push of a button if he could, he said he would, “for the safety of humanity”.

Trump hasn’t been the only target of musicians’ frustration in this campaign cycle, even if there is an entire Wikipedia page cataloguing the artists who have told him not to use their music.

In August, the Republican candidate Vivek Ramaswamy, a businessman reportedly worth almost $1bn, bolstered his everyman credentials by performing Eminem’s Lose Yourself at the Iowa state fair. That resulted in a cease-and-desist letter from the rapper. The spat ended when the politician’s campaign promised to “leave the rapping to the Real Slim Shady”.

But Ramaswamy couldn’t resist a parting shot on MSNBC: “Eminem, in his rise, used to be a guy who actually stood up to the establishment and said the things that the establishment didn’t want him to say,” said the pharmaceutical company founder who went to both Harvard and Yale. “I have hope for him that he will one day rediscover the renegade that made him great.”

As the 2024 presidential race wears on – and with future races ahead, assuming America survives this one – similar clashes will no doubt continue. Nikki Haley has already faced a songwriter’s wrath for playing Eye of the Tiger. And not all candidates are as gracious as Ramaswamy: for instance, Trump, believe it or not, continued to play Tiny Dancer at 2016 rallies despite Elton John’s request that he not use the singer’s music.

How much power do artists actually have in this scenario? It depends on the circumstances, says Ben Depoorter, a professor at University of California Law San Francisco. In the US, licensing companies including Ascap and BMI manage copyright issues on behalf of artists. Generally, venues like convention centers have their own licenses with these companies, meaning that, broadly speaking, the venues can play whatever they want.

However, the rules are a little different when a third party is involved. When a candidate “walks on and they play music, that is actually not covered by the standard license of the venue”, Depoorter says. Political campaigns often don’t realize that they need their own music licenses, under which musicians can opt out of having their music played. “When these authors are saying, ‘Hey, I don’t want him to play my music any more,’ it’s actually a legal right they have,” Depoorter explains.

So perhaps, given so many musicians’ aversion to rightwingers (“We literally hate you!” the Dropkick Murphys told the former Wisconsin governor Scott Walker when he used their song I’m Shipping Up to Boston), Florida’s Governor Ron DeSantis was wise to do what so many of us wish we could: commission his own theme song. Thinking he might be president one day, the poor guy hired the country star Billy Dean to write a song called Never Back Down, featuring inspiring lyrics like: “If you still believe in the American dream, then never back down.” Last Sunday, DeSantis backed down.