I met David Rovics outside his host’s apartment building. I recognized him immediately from the pictures I’ve seen of him. He is tall and slender with closely cropped hair. He is dressed in casual attire with a black t-shirt that says "Gaza on my Mind."
Rovics was born in New York City to parents who were "progressive and counter-culture in their own way." His earliest experience of music mixed with politics came in 1979 while attending a Unitarian-run camp in Western Massachusetts in a town that at that time had the oldest nuclear reactor in the United States. At this camp, Rovics learned about vegetarianism, sex, and the wickedness of nuclear power by activists who were invited to speak to the children—he was 12 years old. He had up until that point been playing the cello and living a middle class life in a mostly Christian town with non-religious parents who were both classical musicians: "That was the first time I heard music that had a political orientation to it and I guess I’ve gravitated to that kind of stuff ever since."
Rovics’s youth was not unconventional among independent musical artists. He was in many ways the stereotypical, long-haired, pot-smoking hippie during his teenage years, but would discover radicalism and intellectual thought in his early 20s. While living in Berkeley, California, Rovics was exposed to anarchists, Marxists, and the music of revolutionary artists like Phil Ochs and Buffy Sainte-Marie. Their inspirational spirits would send him to open mics while working "depressing occupations" to make a living.
In 1993 Rovics would experience "the single most seminal event" in his life. He wrote about it in "Song for Eric":
Rovics had been writing songs prior to that event, but Eric’s death stirred something he couldn’t suppress. His lyrics went from "preachy" to provocative. He was no longer writing for an audience or intentionally reiterating an ideology or specific worldview: "At that time, songwriting became a survival mechanism, my main way of dealing with life."
Since the mid-1990s Rovics has been touring the world playing concerts for audiences not unlike the one I saw him perform for in Vancouver, BC. The Baptist Church venue was full with a 50-plus crowd made up of peace activists, deserters and those who harbor them, and a few younger writers and musicians. Rovics would sing about those that the Western media was at that time vilifying as the Somalian "Pirates": "Here’s to the pirates of Somalia/I’ll raise the Jolly Roger to you."
He also sang about the attack against an American doctor who had been performing abortions for women despite constant harassment by Christian fundamentalists. "In the Name of God" was written for Dr. George Tiller who was shot to death (he had already been shot in both arms in 1993) on May 31, 2009:
Although Rovics’s songs also touch on traditional musical themes like love found and love lost, most of his fans are drawn to the political nature of his work. I asked him about his take on recent statements made by former Pink Floyd member Roger Waters, who was accused of being an anti-Semite after referring to Israel’s Apartheid Wall as an "exercise in colonialism" during a visit to the occupied Palestinian territories. Rovics responded that politics and music are inherently mixed, whether artists want to accept this it or not: "The music industry has been trying to separate music from politics for years now, trying to get artists to believe that politically oriented music is not attractive for mainstream audiences so they produce work that is safe and preferably only between two people. But artists are part of society too, so they can’t expect to be above politics. Whenever they make a decision to play in a certain country, they are making a political statement. In this case Waters made a direct statement about Israel and because he is a very prominent member of society it reached many people and touched them in different ways. I think that’s wonderful. Especially for an artist who recorded an album called The Wall, it makes perfect sense."
Rovics’s political statements touch on a variety of topics. Many of his songs are also inspired by the cities he’s visited, from no-name small-towns in the U.S. to the occupied Palestinian territories. In his 2008 release of The Commons, Rovics’s song list includes titles like: "Halliburton Boardroom Massacre," "Who Would Jesus Bomb?," and "Falluja." Also included on this list is "Jenin," named after a Palestinian city in the occupied West Bank. Rovics sings:
Rovics, never one to shy away from controversy, concludes "Jenin":
Significantly, Rovics is also adamantly against the corporate music industry’s brutish intimidation tactics against anyone who engages in promoting or downloading music for free. Although he makes a modest living and could probably make a little more by subjecting his work to copyright, he has intentionally made his songs and lyrics available on his website for download. Fans can choose to pay, but that choice is optional. Such are the actions of someone who lives by what he believes in.
The life of a musician is hard, especially for someone like Rovics, but he doesn’t see things that way: "If I wasn’t trying to do something about the state this world is in today then I would be going crazy. I often ask people who are depressed (and there is a tremendous number of them, especially in the U.S.) if in addition to the steps they’re taking to battle their depression, whether they’ve considered becoming an activist. Many people feel powerless in the face of everything being so messed up in this world because they have empathy and compassion for their fellow humans and this tends to stress people out. Activists, many of whom are barely making a living or working two jobs just to make ends meet are also stressed out for a variety of reasons. But they tend to be among the happier people in society because they are trying to do something. That is empowering. My line of work permits me to travel around the world regularly and I meet people like that all the time and they’re lovely. There is nothing I would rather be doing than writing songs and singing them for them and anyone who wants to listen."
While some other types of musicians sleep in thousand-dollar a night hotels, Rovics is stuck trying to educate his well-meaning concert organizers about how to effectively market his shows and constantly accepting the short end of the stick when it comes to accommodations. But he has no complaints: "This is what I love to do. I didn’t start doing this because I wanted to become famous, I started doing this because I felt like I could make some kind of difference."