When George Washington took command of the Continental Army in 1775, there were no guitars plugged into amplifiers, no record players, no radio, and certainly no Spotify. But America wasn’t quiet.
Music was everywhere.
The American Revolution had its own soundtrack—fifes and drums on the battlefield, fiddles in taverns, hymns in churches, dance tunes at gatherings, and political songs making fun of the enemy.
In a strange way, some of it wasn’t all that different from what music does today. People used songs to celebrate, complain, tell stories, make fun of politicians, remember the dead, and get themselves through hard times.
Fifes and Drums: The Sound of an Army
If you had walked near Washington’s army, one of the most recognizable sounds would have been the fife and drum.
These weren’t simply musicians entertaining the troops. Music was part of military communication.
Drumbeats and fife tunes helped soldiers march together and could signal different activities around camp. Long before radios and electronic communication, an army could use sound to help organize thousands of men.
The instruments also carried.
A small wooden fife could produce a piercing sound that could be heard surprisingly well outdoors, while drums supplied the rhythm.
That combination became one of the defining sounds of the Revolutionary War.
“Yankee Doodle”
One tune became permanently associated with the Revolution: “Yankee Doodle.”
The funny part is that it wasn’t originally written as a great American patriotic anthem.
Versions of the song had been used by the British to ridicule American colonists. “Yankee” wasn’t necessarily a compliment, and the lyrics portrayed the colonists as unsophisticated country people pretending to be soldiers.
The Americans essentially said, “Fine. We’ll take your insult.”
They adopted the song themselves.
That’s an old trick that still works today. If somebody gives you a nickname to insult you and you proudly start using it yourself, you’ve taken away some of its power.
“Yankee Doodle” eventually became one of America’s best-known Revolutionary songs.
What Did People Play at Home and in Taverns?
Ordinary people didn’t have recordings, so if you wanted music, somebody had to make it.
Fiddles were important instruments for dancing and social gatherings. Flutes, fifes, drums and other instruments were also heard, while wealthier households might have keyboard instruments.
People sang traditional ballads brought from Britain and Europe. Songs traveled from person to person, and melodies were frequently reused with different words.
That last part sounds surprisingly modern.
People were remixing long before anybody invented the word “remix.”
Someone could take a melody everybody already knew and put new political or humorous lyrics over it. Because listeners already knew the tune, the new song could spread quickly.
Music Was Political
Revolutionary America also had political songs.
Patriots sang about liberty and independence. Loyalists had their own songs. British soldiers had theirs.
Everybody thought the other side was wrong.
Apparently, some things haven’t changed in 250 years.
One important Revolutionary song was “Chester,” written by William Billings. Its patriotic lyrics made it particularly popular with the American cause.
Billings is an interesting character in American musical history because he was one of the country’s earliest important native-born composers.
Church Music Was Everywhere
Religion also played a major role in the music Americans heard.
Psalm singing and hymns were common parts of life, particularly in New England. Sacred music wasn’t separated from everyday culture in quite the way it sometimes is today.
For many people, church was one of the places where they regularly experienced organized music.
That religious musical tradition would continue developing through American history and eventually influence gospel, folk, blues and country music.
Washington Apparently Liked Music and Dancing
George Washington wasn’t simply a stone-faced fellow standing in every portrait looking like he’d just received a property-tax bill.
He enjoyed dancing and attended balls and other social events.
Dancing was an important part of upper-class social life during his era. Minuets, reels and other popular dances would have been accompanied by live musicians.
Imagine Washington entering a modern Nashville bar.
“General, do you know this song?”
“No.”
“It’s in G. Three chords.”
“Excellent. I just defeated the British. I believe I can handle G, C and D.”
There Was No “American Music” as We Know It Yet
The fascinating thing about music during the Revolution is that a distinctly American musical identity was still developing.
Much of the music heard in the colonies had roots in Britain, Ireland, Scotland, continental Europe and religious traditions brought across the Atlantic. African musical traditions were also present in colonial America through enslaved and free Black communities, although their contributions were often ignored or poorly documented by the people keeping written historical records.
Over generations, those different musical traditions would collide, mix and evolve.
Eventually America would produce spirituals, minstrel-era forms, blues, jazz, gospel, old-time music, bluegrass, rhythm and blues, rock and roll, and country.
The road from George Washington to Johnny Cash is a lot longer than three chords.
But there is a road.
Every Generation Has a Soundtrack
We tend to imagine the American Revolution through paintings: Washington crossing the Delaware, soldiers standing in formation, muskets firing and flags blowing in the wind.
But those people heard music too.
Soldiers marched to drums.
Families danced to fiddles.
Congregations sang hymns.
Patriots sang about liberty.
British soldiers sang about the Americans.
And Americans took a song that mocked them—”Yankee Doodle”—and made it their own.
Nearly 250 years later, musicians are still doing basically the same thing.
We tell stories.
We complain.
We fall in love.
We make fun of the other guy.
We sing about what we believe.
The instruments change.
The technology changes.
The human being behind the song really doesn’t.
— Elvis Nash