Dancing on the grave of monsters 

In the summer of 2004, it was hard to ignore the news coverage of Ronald Reagan’s death. In the buildup to his funeral, corporate media saturated airwaves with sanitized reflections on the former president’s legacy. But based on what I knew from my people and punk rock, the man was a union-hating, racist war monger. For this teenage anarchist on summer vacation, I was bored and annoyed with the national talk about Reagan. I remember going to the generic horse-themed wall calendar in my bedroom and scribbling down “REAGAN DIED” in all caps with a big thumbs-up drawn inside the box for June 5. 

I share that story for a few reasons. One, all the teenage angst I felt toward settler-state authority feels validating now as an adult. Additionally, the songwriter Ted Leo (one of my favorite indie rock artists) recently shared a brief anecdote about that time on social media. In the summer of 2004, Leo was recording an album called “Shake the Sheets,” which is considered a 21st-century indie rock masterpiece. On Bluesky last month, Leo wrote, “We were in the studio making ‘Shake the Sheets’ the day Reagan died, and friends, we danced and danced and danced.” If justice is hard to come by in the living world, then there’s karmic satisfaction when powerful, corrupt men take their last breath. In that regard, I believe it’s worth taking a moment to not only dance on the grave of monsters, but create music, art and poetry in celebration of their demise. 

If you’re unfamiliar with Leo’s songwriting, imagine the pop rock of Elvis Costello mashed with the new-wave soul of Joe Jackson, with a dash of Thin Lizzy and Billy Bragg thrown in. After cutting his teeth in experimental D.C. punk bands throughout the  ’80s and ’90s, Leo eventually formed a group called Ted Leo and the Pharmacists, releasing a debut album in 1999. With the Pharmacists, Leo was prolific, producing a new album every year. On each album, his experimental indie rock became more refined, and Leo’s ear for melody rose to the surface. During this time, Leo used his platform to speak out against U.S.-led wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, and to condemn the Bush administration. Ted Leo and the Pharmacists’ fourth album, “Shake the Sheets,” was released in October 2004, a few weeks before George W. Bush was re-elected.

I was still too young to vote, but I sensed the despair and unease over the electoral outcome, nationally and in the part of the world closest to me. It was around this time that I was introduced to Leo’s music. My youthful world was shaped by music magazines and scrappy fanzines, and Leo got a lot of love from those publications. The one magazine I read religiously back then was Punk Planet – part investigative journalism and part in-depth reporting on independent music. Not long after the 2004 election, Punk Planet issued a bleak editorial, struggling to find hope in the years ahead. But then the editorial ended by saying, “I find that the new Ted Leo album, ‘Shake The Sheets,’ applied in liberal doses, helps to dull the pain.” 

I will always have a soft spot for protest music that you can sing along to. But I also embrace songwriting that emphasizes the personal as political, which is where “Shake the Sheets” plants its flag. The album’s social commentary is rooted in everyday life, often focusing on mental health while trying to stay aware of the endless wars waged by this country. The first track, “Me and Mia,” is a dose of melodic pop-punk, yet lyrically, the song deals with overcoming an eating disorder. The writing is tender and emphatic, and then there’s the magic of Leo’s voice, where he sings with vulnerability and confidence. His voice bends but never breaks. It always brings a smile when I reach the pre-chorus where Leo belts out, “Do you believe in something beautiful?/ Then get up and be it!” Another highlight on the album is the 5-minute track “Little Dawn,” which is an exploration of despair where Leo spends the second half of the song simply repeating the words, “It’s alright.” He says it every time with full conviction, and eventually it becomes a mantra for the weary-hearted. 

Twenty years later, “Shake the Sheets” is an album that remains relevant. There is something serendipitous about it being produced during the time of Reagan’s death. And yet, every election cycle since has only normalized the darker depths of right-wing extremism. I think about that now, and I find power in the tension: Yes, more grotesque monsters are waiting around the corner, hungry to rule over us. But we can always find moments to assemble and make music out of a fascist’s dying breath, and perhaps that will offer enough time for justice to someday find us. 

– Kirbie Bennett