The Bruce & Barack show

Next week's inauguration doesn't just mark the start of a new era – it tells us lots about the new President's musical tastes. Andy Gill isn't impressed

(Getty)

The relationship of pop and politics is a risky business, for both sides.

From the choice of campaign song to more serious matters such as the explicit endorsement of a particular candidate, the process is fraught with doubts and pitfalls. On the one hand, for the rock'n'roll rebel with an iconoclastic reputation to protect, any alliance with any politician will be suspect in fans' eyes, and can only rebound in disastrous manner when the slippery cove in question has to make that inevitable unpopular decision: it would be as if the artist themself had dismantled the health service, invaded Iran, concreted over parkland or imposed a nine o'clock curfew.

On the other hand if, as a politician, you choose to trumpet your triumphalism to a song proclaiming that things can only get better, there is ultimately only ever going to be one outcome: sooner or later, things are bound to get worse, and your sweet victory will turn to ashes in your mouth as fate exacts its inevitable revenge on your overweening hubris. Similarly, if you are blinded to a song's bitter social critique by the apparent patriotic power of a refrain like "Born in the USA", you have only yourself to blame when that irony comes back and slaps you in the face. Unless, of course, the songwriter denies you the use of their song: it's intriguing to ponder what kind of damage that irony might have done to Ronald Reagan's campaign, had Bruce Springsteen sneakily allowed the candidate to go ahead and get egg all over his face, rather than taking understandable umbrage.

Springsteen was one of the more open and vocal endorsers of Barack Obama's candidacy throughout last year, and unsurprisingly is to be one of the headline stars of the President-elect's forthcoming inauguration party, probably the most star-studded such event in American political history. The list recently published in Billboard of the party's initial line-up is an imposing assembly of the great, the good, and the token; 18 artists carefully chosen not only to cover as wide a demographic appeal as possible, but also to offend as few constituents as possible. One can imagine Obama's phalanxes of strategists poring over print-outs of artists' sales figures, then cross-referencing them with analyses of those artists' psychological profiles, trying to devise the safest, sunniest show on earth.

You don't believe they'll have been that picky and careful? Then who, do you imagine, came up with the title for the event, the grand and ungainly "We Are One: The Obama Inaugural Celebration At The Lincoln Memorial", with its deliberate echo of "We Are The World" intended to recall that earlier event's overtones of liberalist communality and charitable intentions? It wasn't anyone connected with the entertainment business, that's for sure. My guess is that it was the same committee that came up with the title for the following day's "alternative" event, "Hey, America Feels Kinda Cool Again" – the sort of excruciatingly patronising phrase that could only have been dreamt up by someone as fundamentally uncool as a political aide.

The only serious classical performer involved – well, we wouldn't want beer-swilling, truck-driving middle-America irritated by too much pointy-head intellectual snob music, would we? – is the soprano Renée Fleming, who might have been chosen for her Wikipedia entry, that refers to a voice "endowed with ringing freedom". Not quite the "hope" they might have been looking for, perhaps, but probably the next best thing.

Unless, of course, you believe that "freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose", to quote Kris Kristofferson, who isn't on the list. Neither, oddly, is Willie Nelson, who you'd imagine would be the perfect act for this event. Doubtless his "outlaw" status, and unapologetic devotion to marijuana, militated against his inclusion. Or maybe Willie's just away on tour already. The country music representatives on the bill are Jennifer Nettles, about whom I know nothing, and stadium-stuffing big-hat act Garth Brooks, who seems to have sold more records than actually exist in the world, if that's possible.

It's hard to imagine that the Obama household regularly rocks to the current king of country music, but it's a vast constituency that can't be ignored, and one that probably still needs converting from their instinctive Republicanism.

The ever-growing Hispanic constituency is less well-served, with only the Colombian crossover singer Shakira involved in the main event, but there's a separate Latino Inaugural Gala, featuring War and Marc Anthony, planned for the same night at Union Station. That's at least more accommodating than the short shrift offered the country's Caribbean immigrants, who are represented solely by the Trinidadian soca singer Heather Headley – rather less than the region's prodigious musical influence might deserve, but as with Willie Nelson, one supposes the last thing an incoming black President needs is some dreadlocked reggae loose cannon firing up a chalice.

Another interesting omission from the bill is R.E.M., the band most responsible for the reintroduction of intelligence and principles into an American rock scene ravaged by sex and drug indulgences; but then, the line-up is unusual for the glaring absence of any mainstream or college-rock acts, prompting the thought that those responsible may be operating the kind of long-hair prohibition traditionally favoured by American administrations. But the most glaring absentee will surely be Bob Dylan, the ultimate musical icon of American liberalism and composer of the most resonant civil rights anthems. There's every chance that he was invited but declined – he was the one, after all, who when asked to declare support for a previous Democratic politician, dismissed the request with the damning rejoinder, "Ah, he's just another politician trying to get elected". Not the kind of thing to secure an invite to this kind of bash, you'd suppose. Though given Bob's prodigious touring schedule, he might just be elsewhere that night.

But otherwise, middle-aged, middle-class white liberals, the constituency most responsible for Obama's election, will be well represented at the event. Pope Bono will be there, of course, despite his strong association with the Bush'n'Blair administrations – but every enthronement requires a blessing of some sort, and as God's representative on Planet Pop, his attendance is a no-brainer. Sheryl Crow, better known these days for her activist appeals on behalf of toilet-paper stringency than for any more musical achievements, will also be there, furthering her efforts to become a marginally less annoying, female version of His Bono-ship. Bizarrely, she'll also be playing at the "Hey, America Feels Kinda Cool Again" show, an appearance that surely defies the event's titular claim.

Bruce Springsteen will be there, too. How could he, the touchstone of American blue-collar liberalism, be overlooked? But while the very notion goes against one's fond impression of him as loftily above such earthly matters as money-grubbing promotional tie-ins, can it be mere coincidence that he has a new album released that very same week? Perish the thought!

You might have thought that Jackson Browne and Crosby, Stills and Nash, given their lifelong commitment to liberal activism, would be invited along, and also Carole King and Joni Mitchell, the siren voices of a generation's self-absorption. But the only representative of the West Coast singer-songwriter scene is, oddly, the former hardcore heroin addict James Taylor. But Taylor has in recent years become a much cosier prospect than CS&N, any of whom is likely to voice more fanciful expectations than the incoming administration might want to commit to. And anyway, large parts of middle-America still considers them Californian hippies as godless commie pinkos.

Herbie Hancock and Stevie Wonder, the oldest entertainers included, head a substantial black presence at the Inaugural Party that also includes the youngest performer, Beyoncé, on a bill where the average age is 43. However, there's a notable absence of hip-hop representation – not even Chuck D, Jay-Z or Common – unless you count will.i.am or Mary J Blige, neither of whom is strictly hip-hop so much as R&B. Instead, the featured black performers are those least likely to commit a faux pas, or call for everybody to wave their guns in the air, such as John Legend and Usher – basically, artists who wear bespoke tailored suits rather than tracksuits. Obama, a man who, instead of dropping a dime in his cup, once lectured a black beggar about his social disgrace, is undoubtedly sending a similarly clear signal to the black community.

On the night, it's doubtful that a figure as cool, calculating and assured of his position as Obama will pull out a sax and start honking along with the band like Bill Clinton; though I'd be surprised if at some point he's not seen arm-in-arm with Stevie Wonder. It's the shrewdest move Obama could make.