Presidents’ Day has come and gone, but one thing that stays forever, regardless of holiday, is the eclectic and occasionally funny work of The Presidents of the United States of America, an alternative rock group that had its biggest hits three decades prior to today. And today, exactly 30 years ago, The Presidents performed at Mount Rushmore in celebration of Presidents’ Day, broadcast live on MTV. Can’t say the same about the channel doing that nowadays, rather I’d imagine a non-stop marathon of Ridiculousness episodes like every other day…
The song being discussed today, however, is eight years this performance’s junior, on the 2004 album of the same name. As many Presidents fans can attest, much of their appeal comes from the outwardly grungy and powerful compositions of the songs, alongside somewhat down-to-earth yet sharply funny lyrics. Take “Lump” for instance, describing a girl who may or may not be a figment of imagination as well as a zombified bog body, mummified by mud, living (or, perhaps, unliving) a 20-something malaise. “Love Everybody’s” style takes much of what can be construed from “Lump”: the stream-of-consciousness storytelling, the character descriptions that paint a fine picture, and the picaresque sense of humor that the two previous traits seamlessly birth from their combination.
“Love Everybody,” first and foremost, is a song that contrasts the societal and economic struggles of the underprivileged world with those of the rich and powerful. The first story concerns the homeless Sally, who draws the attention of the wine-sipping limousine-riding Burt with a sign reading “love everybody” as a pathological appeal to her aide. Whether or not Burt decides to contribute to her, through money, shelter or necessities, is unknown, as the information bleeds into the chorus, taking us away from the reality of the world and into a repetitive chant to embody the frivolousness of a vague yet universal message of kindness and hope.
Our second story details beautiful socialite Bree, who encounters tattoo artist Harvey in a Luigi Mangione-style act of violence. “By the flash on the wall, she seemed twenty feet tall”, culminating in one last moment of metaphorical power before her killer inks the universal message on her fist, bleeding into the chorus. As it should become clear, the song has a “let’s cross the street here” mentality, becoming frightened with finishing the tales of class struggle, directing attention towards the catchy and singable chorus. It’s this sort of satire that groups like The Presidents do right: by drawing attention to disparaging situations between the haves and have nots, a ripe form of redirection is for the taking, to force the audience to ignore real problems, to focus on the superficial and less complex — a chorus that shouts a message of love antithetical to what the verses convey.
And in this day and age, a message like this, not just of the awareness of these issues, but also how they tend to be covered up with more palatable tastes, is needed now more than ever. Pay attention to the people around you and what they’re going through. Empathy is, unfortunately, a superpower. What separates it from laser eyes or Herculean strength is one thing: you can learn it.
