In Trump’s campaign, the contradictions lie in the music

A once foul-mouthed white rapper transformed into an icon of right-wing country rebellion. An iconic disco-pop band with a crossover hit that is often understood as gay cruise theater and has become a global sports and bar mitzvah anthem.

These are the contradictory figures that have long animated and energized American popular music, the art form in which competing interest groups and creative urges are in close quarters and most likely colliding in unexpectedly productive ways. The stew of American pop is messy, the result of centuries of creative intersections, willful and forced and sometimes unpredictable.

So perhaps it’s no surprise that even on stage at President-elect Donald J. Trump’s “Make America Great Again Victory Rally” Sunday afternoon at Capital One Arena – seemingly a venue inhospitable to these narratives of collaborative difference – This tug of war continued.

In the speeches — from Mr. Trump and many of his surrogates — there was nativism and isolationism and promises of record deportations.

And yet, for a party and movement built in part on exclusion and whose campaign was at times marked by race-baiting, there were conspicuous overtures to diversity and inclusion and sly acknowledgments of the power of American pop’s multiracial stew.

There was Kid Rock, his voice pockmarked and powerful, singing “All Summer Long,” his successful nod to “Sweet Home Alabama,” before donning a red “Make America Great Again” ball cap and taking turns on the record player of his DJs scratched. In a video message during the appearance, Mr. Trump promised to “Make America Rock Again,” set to recordings of Run DMC songs.

Billy Ray Cyrus, who was announced as one of the artists at the rally but wasn’t heard from except for the sound check, would have this strange narrative as a former country pretty boy who ends his career by collaborating with a queer hip-hop guy was saved, newcomer Lil Nas X delves into “Old Town Road”.

And of course there were villagers who performed, danced and occasionally sang along to “YMCA” at the end of the rally with Mr. Trump in the background.

Did the origins of the song play a role? That wasn’t the case. (Victor Willis, the group’s frontman and only remaining founding member, made headlines last month when he posted on social media that the song was “not really a gay anthem.”)

But of course that’s how Mr. Trump sees music: as theme songs, fight songs, soundtracks to memories, not as works of art. He tends toward hymns that are devoid of meaning as long as they remain memorable. He walked onto the stage, where Lee Greenwood serenaded him with “God bless the USA,” as if he were being crowned homecoming king at the prom.

The pre-rally soundtrack was four to five decades old, aside from the occasional contemporary intrusion—Bruno Mars’ “Versace on the Floor” and The Weeknd’s “Starboy.” It was largely the sound of Studio 54 and its offshoots, rolling through layers of history, irony and posthistory until nothing remained but the beat.

Most speakers were introduced with the strum of hard rock guitars, as if to calm (and energize) the majority white crowd. But the messages they conveyed were, in places, more nuanced. Ultimate Fighting Championship CEO Dana White reminded the crowd of Mr. Trump’s success with nonwhite voters, as did Mr. Trump himself in his speech, who was keen to portray MAGA as a multiracial movement.

But the contradictions were never far from the surface. Puerto Rican superstar Anuel AA hugged Mr. Trump and said he was on stage to speak “on behalf of the entire Hispanic community,” describing the backlash he received for his support of Mr. Trump. Just minutes later, Trump adviser Stephen Miller condemned President Biden’s border policies and former Fox News host Megyn Kelly touted Facebook and McDonald’s for scrapping diversity, equity and inclusion initiatives.

It was the ultimate in having it both ways—slyly embracing the spoils of American diversity while simultaneously forcefully arguing against DEI and using the look and sound of integration as a soft weapon against their own advancement. The purpose of the rally was supposed to be clear, but the music suggested a far more messy — and still unresolved — truth.