When YG brought out a Trump impersonator to the stage in Los Angeles on March 15, he wasn’t the first to use his stage to mock a president. In September of 1963, following the bombing of a church containing four young Black girls in Birmingham, Alabama, Nina Simone was outraged. She penned the song “Mississippi Goddam,” a song critical of American racial prejudice and supportive of the rising civil rights movement.
At each performance of the song, she would improvise the ending to point out current issues, from Selma march attacks to Watts riots. In 1980, Simone stood on stage at a Montreal show and heartily sang her frustration with the reign of a conservative former actor turned soon-to-be-president winning over his pro-Black competitor: “Everybody knows about Reagan/Everybody knows about Carter/Everybody knows about the whole thing, Goddam!/Goddam!/GODDAM!”
Musicians have used their platforms for decades to rebel against presidential administrations and racial standpoints, whether as on-the-nose as YG’s impersonator wailing to “build the wall” to Nina Simone swearing at Reagan. As well as being the location of recent hip-hop festival Rolling Loud California, Los Angeles is a well-known city for protest. Just a month before, hundreds of protestors blocked a major Los Angeles freeway in an anti-deportation movement.
Saturday, as the first day of the festival, was preceded by consistent shocking immigration news reports. Trump paused immigration applications, changed policies to allow arrests at schools and vowed to double down on his controversial policies within the month. As political turmoil unfolded in the news, Peso Pluma was the first of the festival’s major artists to take the stage.
The Jalisco-born 25-year-old rose to popularity within the last few years for his uniquely modern take on regional Mexican corridos. Corridos, as a narrative music style, has a long history of discussing oppression and political and social conflict.
Mexican music scholar Américo Paredes defines that corridos were first created following the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo of 1848, in which Mexico surrendered half of its territory to the relentless manifest-destiny encroachment of a young America. The genre was born as a musical response to “hostile conditions: the foreign invasion, the loss and occupation of territory, (and) the treatment of Mexicans as second-class citizens,” according to UCLA’s Frontera Recordings.
“(The Mexicans’) slow, dogged struggle against economic enslavement and the loss of their own identity was the most important factor in the development of a distinct local balladry,” said Paredes.
Against this rich musical backdrop, it’s no wonder Pluma held political commentary on his sleeve. The boldness of his love for Mexico was a statement in itself, as he called out “Arriba Mexico,” and “A la verga,” iconic Mexican exclamations that stirred pride in his crowd, eliciting chants of “Viva Mexico” and “Peso.”
On-screen, the performer displayed images of iconic corridos musicians and headlines of his music’s association with crime and narco activity. The “dangerous Mexican” narrative was clearly one he hoped to shatter with the use of music as connection, as he invited his crowd to sing and dance along to his take on his country’s native sound.
In a moment of anti-Mexican vitriol in American news and politics, wholeheartedly representing his country and native protest music was powerful on Pluma’s part.
YG’s Trump appearance, which had the ‘president’ calling out to “illegals” in the crowd, was also flanked by a mock shootout that intended to bring attention to police brutality and the harmful impact of gang violence on minority communities.
The Compton native, who lived among LA gang activity and saw his father imprisoned during his childhood, was acutely aware of the disproportionate presence of Black men in American prisons and poverty induced crime.
“Shout out to the Latinos, to my Black brothers and sisters. This is for you,” said the 35-year-old star.
A$AP Rocky infused such a list of protest imagery in his performance that to list it all would be exhaustive. Between arriving in a helicopter that dropped him into riot gear-clad “police” and wearing a T-shirt depicting a shot riddled bulletproof vest, A$AP Rocky wholeheartedly proclaimed his criticism of the justice and law enforcement system.
The show was timely and explosive as Rocky emerged innocent from a publicized assault trial. It wouldn’t be his first brush with the justice system, after the Harlem native lost his older brother to street violence at age nine, and spent teenage years in homeless shelters in the midst of his father’s incarceration.
He seemed to draw upon these experiences as he passionately sang, “I want to start a riot” to visuals of crowds clashing with police and catching on fire.
At a podium with an upside down American flag, Rocky mourned his friend A$AP Yams. The A$AP Mob rapper credited Yams as an essential part of his success.
“Yams was Dominican and Puerto Rican. Without him I wouldn’t be here,” he said.
He went on to share prayers to LA Fire victims and call out recent deportation legislation.
“I would like to dedicate this show… to anybody that was affected by the immigration laws. My heart goes out to you,” said Rocky between songs.
Rolling Loud California was just one of many musical performances through the years to mirror political frustration. However, in a period of intense turmoil and immigration controversy in the United States and in Los Angeles, YG, Rocky, and Pluma’s onstage symbolism and bold stance with immigrants left an indelible mark on fans and modern political performance.
