Power Ballots

Photograph by Ben Alsop

Among the public, there is sometimes a fundamental misunderstanding of the role of a musician -- or any celebrity, for that matter -- on the campaign trail. Most strategists don't actually expect artists to sway voters, but merely to get their attention.

"You use talent to broaden your reach into communities you might not already have access to," says Bergthold. "Like if country-music artists are interested, obviously that's a community a Democratic campaign would love to hit. It's creating a buzz more than anything else. I don't think I've ever met a voter who said, 'I'm voting for a candidate because Madonna told me to.' But they may have learned more about the candidate than they would have otherwise. Ultimately, the candidate has to change their minds."

Most artists on the campaign trail seem acutely aware of their role and, if anything, err on the side of muting their own political opinions, almost to a fault. "I think it's kind of inane to watch rock stars speak about causes," says Fall Out Boy's Pete Wentz, who threw a low-cost fundraiser for Obama in late January at a Chicago bar he co-owns. "Oftentimes, it's like watching a 14-year-old boy fumbling with a girl's belt buckle: They're definitely going to get there eventually, but it's real annoying to watch." Wentz admits he ended up speaking a bit more than he'd planned to at his own event, but downplays the effects. "I don't think anybody's sitting around going, 'Whoa! Dude with black hair and tight jeans in an emo band supports this guy! That's a stunning move!' I'm only interested in creating a dialogue with our fans and getting them to take a look at Obama. You don't need to shove [your politics] down people's throats."

Black Eyed Peas' will.i.am was so inspired by Obama's speech after losing the New Hampshire primary that he got together with John Legend, Common, Scarlett Johansson, and others to turn the speech into a song, complete with a video by How High director (and son of Bob) Jesse Dylan. But he balks at the suggestion that he was trying to do anything as crude as win votes.

"I hate politics," he says. "I'm not a cheerleader. I'm not trying to rally anyone. I can't sit here and say the reason for this is to convince people to vote for Obama. I just want people to be inspired to change themselves."

But other artists are suspicious of such high-minded if vague goals. Moby has worked for a dizzying array of candidates and causes over the past decade. He's jammed onstage with John Kerry at the Intrepid Sea-Air-Space Museum, cofounded MoveOn's "Bush in 30 Seconds" project, and recorded a robo-call for PETA urging people not to eat turkey on Thanksgiving. During the Florida recount of 2000, he promised that if Bush won, he'd "follow Ralph Nader to the ends of the earth just to scream at him and pelt him with rotten tomatoes."

But after years of toil, Moby has come to a somewhat demoralizing conclusion: "I cannot narcissistically say my involvement has made much of a difference. Sometimes it turned people off. If for the last six years, all I'd done was hang out in a strip club drinking beer, the world would probably be in exactly the same shape it is now."

The problem, as Moby sees it, has not been his intentions or his commitment, but his methods. "One of the traps lefties like myself have fallen into," he says, "is we believe so much in what we're saying that we feel like no effort needs to be made in how we say it. If I come across as strident, self-righteous, and didactic, people just hear me being strident, self-righteous, and didactic. No one wants some smug nerd from New York telling them who they should vote for."