John Mellencamp: Life Death Love and Freedom

By Steve Morley

During the recent presidential primaries, the music of John Mellencamp was adopted by both Democratic and Republican candidates. Such is the nature of many of Mellencamp’s double-edged creations. On the surface, songs like “Pink Houses” appear to carry pro-patriotism sentiments. In a way, they do. (“Ain’t that America—you and me/ Ain’t that America—somethin’ to see, baby/ Ain’t that America/ Home of the free…”) But behind his apparent flag-waving, the liberal singer often does some finger-pointing. He’s an outspoken supporter of the downtrodden, inspired by the populist folksinger Woody Guthrie, whose mid-twentieth-century music not only stood up for the little guy, but fired shots at any institution that didn’t. Guthrie’s controversial ode to the common man, “This Land is Your Land”—minus its thornier latter verses—has since become a patriotic standby, thanks to its ultra-catchy chorus. Mellencamp, too, has wrapped memorable melodies around socially conscious ideas that, in today’s sound-byte culture, can easily be reduced to simplistic Americana. That isn’t likely to occur, though, with the sobering songs on Life Death Love and Freedom.

On Mellencamp’s 23^rd outing, he trades his anthemic, sing-along choruses for bare bones blues- and folk-influenced fare that explores the ills of American society. His characters are often sick in heart, soul or body, demonstrating the failure to realize the so-called American dream. He addresses isolation on “John Cockers,” a song about a friendless man whose bitter disillusionment seems fated to keep him in solitary confinement. (“I don’t accommodate nobody/ I just take care of myself/ Got a little house on a dusty road/ I don’t need nobody else/ I got a wife and some kids/ But I don’t know where they’re at/ I know many, many people/ But I ain’t got no friends.”) The fictional Cockers isn’t a person you’d eagerly befriend, but Mellencamp’s deeper concern here is the growing failure of society to respond to the needs of those who fall below certain social and economic lines.

“Without a Shot” claims that America, by viewing itself as righteous and invincible, has in truth weakened itself and put its people at risk. Further, portions of the lyric suggest that religion is one of the culprits behind such self-importance. (“So we think that forgiveness is a God-given right/ And equality for all is just a waste of our time/ With our nickel-plated Jesus chained around our necks/ Handing out verses of scripture/ Like we wrote it down ourselves.”)

In the death ballad “County Fair,” a carnival murder victim, speaking from the grave, peels back the fair’s colorful banners and the promise of innocent amusement to reveal the human degradation lurking within. (“Well, the county fair left quite a mess in the county yard/ Kids with eyes as big as dollars rode all the rides/ Strip artists and con artists put on quite a show/ They made some money, then left town/ Where they went I don’t know.”) Though the track reads like a tawdry paperback, it makes a statement about false appearances as well as the dwindling value of human life.

While hope tentatively rears its head on “For the Children,” it’s a heartfelt but ungrounded optimism, flying in the face of the song’s litany of unanswered concerns. (“I wish I could tell you where we went/ When our days here come to an end/ Wish I could see the future/ The same way I see the past/ I wish I could draw a conclusion/ Why nothing here seems to last.”) 

By presenting his common-man plaints largely through the eyes of the down-and-out, Mellencamp challenges his listeners to face the effects of poverty, despair, prejudice and other hindrances to a truly healthy America. Because the album speaks in droning and grim tones, it can be hard to hear—or to want to listen for—the pleas for compassion and tolerance that Mellencamp sprinkles throughout Life Death Love and Freedom.

Audio Clips

"Longest Days"

"My Sweet Love"

"If I Die Sudden"

"Troubled Land"