Mark Gresham | 16 JUL 2025
Imagine the summer of 1776: musket fire echoes in the distance, colonists gather in Philadelphia’s sweltering meetinghouses, and the faint strains of a fife or psalm drift through the air. As quills scratched the Declaration of Independence, music provided both solace and strength—fife and drum rallying soldiers, hymns uniting communities, and tavern ballads giving voice to rebellion.
In that pivotal year, the thirteen colonies were a cultural patchwork bound by a rising call for independence. Music was more than entertainment; it was a communal force, present in churches, taverns, encampments, and public gatherings. While some colonists brought with them European traditions of opera and chamber music, much of what was heard in everyday life was functional, homegrown, and intimately tied to the concerns of the day.
Psalmody dominated in New England, where Puritan singing schools taught congregations to read music and sing in harmony. These settings often adapted European hymns to local preferences, creating a distinctively American sacred style. In taverns and town squares, patriotic songs lampooned British authority while boosting morale. Fife-and-drum corps, central to military communication, performed brisk marches that helped maintain discipline and inspire courage. These early American sounds—practical yet emotionally potent—marked the first steps toward a uniquely national musical identity.
At the center of this development was William Billings, a self-taught Boston tanner who became one of the earliest composers of American choral music. In 1770, he published The New-England Psalm-Singer, a groundbreaking collection of original sacred works. His anthem “Chester,” with its rousing line “Let tyrants shake their iron rod,” captured the defiant spirit of the times. Billings’ music was often rugged and harmonically bold, mirroring the unpolished yet resolute character of the revolutionary cause. As music historian Richard Crawford writes, “His music was the voice of a new nation, unafraid to stand apart from European models.”
Meanwhile, modest concert life was emerging in cities like Boston, Philadelphia, and Charleston. Organizers such as Josiah Flagg presented public performances of works by Handel, Corelli, and other European composers in taverns and public halls. A 1774 Boston concert, for instance, featured a “grand consort” of violins and flutes that drew a mixed audience of locals. These events, though hampered by war, amateurism, and limited resources, planted seeds for the American classical tradition that would fully blossom in the 19th century.
Music in 1776 also reflected—and was shaped by—America’s cultural diversity. Enslaved Africans sustained musical traditions that blended West African rhythms and melodies with Christian texts, forming the early roots of what would later become the spiritual. Native American music, less documented but no less influential, sometimes found its way into settler compositions, though often through a filtered or appropriative lens. While these voices were largely excluded from formal music-making at the time, their influence would reverberate through American music history in profound ways.
Music, in its many forms, was a lifeline of protest, of faith, of identity. As historian Barbara Lambert observes, “In 1776, singing a psalm or ballad was an act of defiance, a declaration of who we were becoming.”
As we approach July 4, 2026, marking 250 years since the Declaration of Independence, the music of 1776 offers more than nostalgia—it invites reflection and contemplation. From Billings’ anthems to battlefield drumlines, these were the sounds of a people defining themselves. ■
Read more by Mark Gresham.
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