For the greater part of my adult life, I’ve been reluctant to disclose my pop-punk roots to friends and acquaintances. At best, I would be met with a blank stare. At worst, a knowing smirk about an overhyped, juvenile genre with Green Day and Blink-182 at the forefront. Conceal my affinity, I shall no longer. This year, I unearthed those roots because this week, I became an activist.
Here in New York City, we have a scourge in the skies. We are plagued by rackety, nonessential helicopters flying overhead morning, afternoon, and evening. Wealthy residents book rides to escape the ground traffic us lowly peasants must endure. Curious tourists book them to gawk down on the city like we’re part of a public exhibition.
There has been a marked increase in rides over the last few years, with submitted 311 helicopter noise complaints nearly doubling from 11K in 2021 to 21K in 2022, then tripling to 60K in 2023. In a city of 8+ million people, those numbers might seem small. Consider that they represent only people willing to take ten minutes of their time to submit an online complaint with required information such as time of day, when it stopped/started hovering, its location and tail number, if it was news-related, what it smelled like, how much it weighed, where you were born, what your parents do for a living, etc.
It takes multiple browser clicks to submit this particular type of complaint. Comparatively, if you’d like to complain about trash on the sidewalk, only one click is required. I’ve submitted several complaints myself and each time received a canned reply that the helicopter was operating within its jurisdiction or that the FAA had no record of one being in the sky at that time (hahahahahahaha, of course not).
On Tuesday — prompted by the grassroots organization Stop the Chop NY/NJ — I attended and testified at a public hearing in support of several bills and resolutions that aim to limit or ban nonessential helicopters from flying over the city. Limits do not work. In 2016, a bill was passed to “limit” such flights to 30,000/year or 82/day. Currently, there is a new resolution on the table to maintain that number of flights yet reduce the days and hours during which they can happen. I shudder to think about this getting passed. The number of flights per day would increase to 96, and the proposed limited hours of 10am–5pm translates to 13 helicopters per hour. Imagine sitting at your desk or relaxing on your porch and hearing that intermittent noise. It would drive a sane person crazy, right? We need a total ban.
The Economic Development Council (EDC) was the first to testify at the hearings. They provided no official response to the bills they’ve had in their possession for months or, in some cases, years. The EDC spokeswoman cooly and calmly declined to answer many pointed questions, each time beginning with the most sinister/benign sentence I’ve ever heard: “Thank you for that question, councilwoman.” The EDC continues to tout the sentiment that constant helicopters are necessary in order for New York to remain a “world class city,” yet global powerhouses such as Paris and London retained that status after severely limiting or banning short-haul flights.
So what gives? Those in control of our heliports cater to the wealthiest of the wealthy. The needs of the EXTREME few outweigh the millions of New Yorkers who live and work here, send our children to public school here, pay high taxes to the city AND state, and actively use public transportation (or feet or bicycles) to combat climate change. Millions of us do our part and yet our voices are drowned out by Mr. Man’s chopper blades.
Here is where I return to my roots to fertilize my frustration and keep my arguments sharp. Propagandhi, Face to Face, Good Riddance, Pennywise, Screeching Weasel, Bad Religion. With poignant lyrics and unmatched energy directed toward injustice, inequality, complacency, corrupt politicians, and the uber-wealthy, their songs are a motivational goldmine to fight the good fight.
During my first go-round with them, I was an artistic teenager in rural Pennsylvania — a weirdo who found refuge amongst a bunch of older dudes who sang about causes with implications far greater than mine. Decades later, that weirdo lives in a place where she actually fits in and yet she’s slowly getting elbowed out by the same notions that inspired her beloved pop-punk collective.
If I had not devoted a portion of my formative years to semi-aggressive yet melodic protest songs, would I be willing to spend my free time defending my (and fellow New Yorkers’) right to live under a quiet sky? Doubtful; it’s easy to become complacent, especially when your time may be better spent on your career and family. But when lyrics like these continuously float around in your head, they become too loud to ignore and just may ignite a fire under your keister.
Screeching Weasel, “My Right” (1988)
I can’t believe you’re telling me what’s good for me
How do you know what’s good?
I can’t believe you’re telling me what to believe
Get away from me, my right!
Bad Religion, “Against the Grain” (1990)
There’s a common consensus and an uncomfortable cheer
A reverberating chorus that anyone can hear
It sings, ‘Leave your cares behind you just grab tenaciously’
This lulling sense or purpose will destroy us rapidly
Against the grain
That’s where I’ll stay
Swimming upstream
I maintain against the grain
Pennywise, “It’s Up To Me” (1993)
Looked to the past for some history
Looked for the sum of humanity
A list of laws they passed down through time
A ruthless plot to control my mind
I gotta make a plan for myself
Can’t look to you, can’t look to anybody else
Only this way am I truly free
I wasted time too long, now it’s up to me
Propagandhi, “Showdown (G.E./P.)” (1993)
Welcome to this world, imbued identity
Born, tagged, tattooed, pacified
Generously bestowed my rights and privileges
Replete with arbitrary values ascribed
There’s nothing I can tell you, there’s nothing I can say
Stunted conversations, censored thought
I’m completely free and liberty guaranteed
Unless of course you decide I’m not
But I won’t be resigned to
Fall in line behind you
Good Riddance, “Flies First Class” (1995)
Tell me who will arrest the political pollution
Who’s coming up with the eminent solution
Who’s gonna sell you something you can’t use
Who can broadcast fallacies and call it the news
Some people say I’m bitter and I really should get over it
An angry young man with nothing tangible to show for it
But oppression breeds obsession like another mean season
And to turn a blind eye would be personal treason
Freedom is just a word (incendiary)
Justice a blank ideal (our novel paradigm)
Mirror of one way glass (somebody’s watching)
America flies first class
Face to Face, “Velocity” (1995)
Tell me something that I don’t already know
Tell me how you plan to change the world
I’m tired of people trying to tell me what is right
I’m tired of people trying to pull me down
I know that you might never understand the way I feel
I made a promise to myself that I would never let it show
Never look down
Just keep my focus straight ahead and try to walk this line
A few weeks ago, I felt like little more than a minion complaining about wrongs bestowed upon me by the powers that be. With the help of lyrics like these, I was empowered to speak up and fight for the kind of city I hope to continue to call home. Difficult as it was to be a teenage outcast, I’m fortunate to have sought and discovered a tiny corner of the universe that remains as insightful and poignant as ever.
Are there musicians or songs that compel you to protest against injustices, however big or small, you see in your city or country? I’d love to hear about them in the comments below.
To quote the great James Hoffman, thank you so much for reading and I hope you have a great day.
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