In 1992, Sinead O’Connor appeared on NBC’s Saturday Night Live. During her performance of Bob Marley’s ‘War’ a cappella, she held up a picture of then-Pope John Paul II, loudly and defiantly proclaimed ‘Fight the real enemy,’ and shredded the picture, leaving the audience stunned. The singer was protesting against the widespread cover-up of child sexual abuse within the Catholic church.

The backlash was fierce. The network permanently banned her. Eggs were thrown at her in the street as she left the venue. The Daily News called her ‘holy terror’ and a Notre Dame University student called her stunt an ‘act of religious intolerance’.

She was exiled for her defiant attitude. Her record sales plummeted in the United States and she was regularly referred to as a ‘crazy bitch’. Constant media attacks forced her to leave the US the following year. She spoke out when it was dangerous and paid a heavy price, both financially and professionally. She was even criticised by the originator of scandalous pop, Madonna.

What made O’Connor’s protests so strong was the risk she was taking. What she did nearly killed her career.

Since 1992, a lot has changed. Most prominently, Madonna’s face, which seems to resemble a lasagna trying to push through cling wrap. We live in an age of identity politics. Immutable traits such as race and gender dominate the discourse of the progressive left. A hierarchy of victims, topped by oppressed minorities, has permeated our cultural institutions. Nowhere is this more evident than in the world of music.

Protests have always been closely associated with music. Ever since Woody Guthrie wrote ‘This Land Is Your Land’ in 1944, it has formed the backbone of the countercultural movement. Guthrie was one of the first mainstream artists to challenge the problems of growing poverty and inequality in America.

Today’s artists seem accustomed to doing business with the giants of the global finance industry. A recent Rage Against the Machine tour was sponsored by a credit card company. The rap metal stalwarts have forged a career singing about injustice and oppression but are happy to charge $50 for a t-shirt. The commodification of rebellion, the ultimate spectacle. Meanwhile, the Offspring drummer has been fired for refusing to get the coronavirus vaccination. It’s not punk rock, is it?

It’s not just the metal world. Dad Rock has become the home of safe middle-class virtue signalling. In 2019, Coldplay announced they would be cancelling their tour due to environmental concerns. Future shows are said to be powered by a dance floor that generates electricity as fans move. Bit egotistical, isn’t it? Judging by their music, I can only assume it’ll work when rushing to the nearest exit in a massive stampede.

If aspiring artists want to pursue a career in the music industry, they need the ‘right’ beliefs and opinions. You can get noticed by endlessly chanting empty slogans and progressive clichés. More importantly, it leads to record sales.

Go against the prevailing groupthink, and that’s it. Morrissey has been vilified in the press for expressing his own opinions on mass immigration and its impact on cultural cohesion in the West. Due to his political views, record stores have refused to stock his music and he is frequently attacked by both mainstream and independent media.

Call me a cynic, but I think a lot of music these days is boring. Everything about it feels mundane, contrived and not particularly challenging. As I get older, I realise that I probably shouldn’t ‘get it’. But this fear of seeming out of touch with young people drives many of us to admire anything that looks new and bold.

When the non-binary Sam Smith takes the stage in a devil suit, he – sorry, ‘they/them’ – is just recycling a very camp Judas Priest performance done better by Rob Halford and co. thirty years ago. Anyone who called Smith’s performance satanic needs a reality check. It’s a marketing strategy designed to shock and sell records. When critics called Black Sabbath satanic, Ozzy Osbourne famously replied, ‘The only black magic Sabbath ever got into was a box of chocolates.’

The real rebels are the ones who call out this rubbish. Anyone who refuses to address Smith by his preferred pronouns or criticises his somewhat corpulent middle-aged stature is classified as ‘homophobic’ and ‘transphobic’ by the New Musical Express – a true medal of honour in the modern culture wars. In a world where social media activists can fire you, declaring that trans women are men and that women should have their own space without fear of male intimidation has become a revolutionary act.

A vast majority of today’s countercultural artists believe themselves to be radical hellraisers. Sam Smith is neither groundbreaking nor revolutionary. He is a cultural authoritarian masquerading as a rebel. These people do not break taboos; they enforce new ones. From gender to climate change, contemporary rebels tell you what to say and what to think. To deviate from orthodoxy means to be relegated to the cultural wilderness. Just ask Sinead O’Connor.

I know I don’t belong in the core Sam Smith demographic. Like his music, the next generation is boring. Young people are becoming more risk-averse at a time when they should push the boundaries and experiment. In Australia, the proportion of teens who have never smoked continues to rise, while alcohol and drug use is declining. Meanwhile, those over the age of 65 are hooking up at chem-sex parties, snorting cocaine, and picking up STIs. Boomers, the true rebels!

I am 40, and I grew up listening to The Dwarves, Poison Idea and Black Flag. The unpredictability of live shows was the reason for the enjoyment. Sam Smith pretending to urinate on someone wouldn’t shock anyone who’s seen live footage from a G.G. Allin show!

Don’t get me wrong; it’s not just about breaking things and being scared. The counterculture movement is all about the spirit of youthful rebellion. To stand up for the oppressed. But is transgender activism, backed by every multinational corporation, sanctioned by every major Western government, fuelled by threat of fines and prison terms if criticised, really the epitome of rebellion? I’ll leave it up to you to decide.

When it comes to rock’s true rebels, I’ll take Morrissey over a thousand Sam Smiths any day.