Playing the Vylan – the curious fall of bellicose Bob

It was fun while it lasted.

Bob Vylan, once a punk-rap provocateur, now appears to be slowly descending from the revolutionary heights of chanting, “Death to the IDF!” into the slightly less glamorous world of mall openings, Barmitzvah gigs, and gender-reveal parties. And honestly, it feels about right.

The artist – and I use the term loosely – seemed surprised when inciting violence on stage resulted in actual consequences, like losing his United States visa and being dropped by his booking agents. One might assume that someone bold enough to call for death publicly would also be bold enough to take responsibility. But no. Bob and his defenders have instead fallen back on the tired script: “You’re offended by his words, but not by genocide?”

It’s a clever line, if you’re 12, allergic to facts, or both.

Still, in the spirit of optimism, perhaps this marks a new phase in Bob’s career. The angry chant circuit may be drying up, but the commercial space remains wide open. Word on the street is that Ben & Jerry’s has already approached him to front its new line of socially conscious vegan flavours: “Freezer Palestine Pistachio”; “Cancel Culture Cookie Dough”; and the experimental “Death to Dairy IDFudge Ripple.”

We might even see Bob Vylan open for drag queens at progressive toddler reading hour, or headline a limited tour through coastal California synagogues, playing slightly censored versions of his hits under the banner, Bneimitzvahs for Justice.

Because if history teaches us anything, it’s that nothing says “revolutionary credibility” quite like performing next to a chocolate fountain while someone’s aunt brings out the gender-reveal cupcakes.

Of course, if music doesn’t work out, there’s always Piers Morgan. Not quite ripe, he does require some mentoring before going full time. Perhaps he can shadow Dave Smith, the other self-proclaimed “activist” turned cultural flatline, whose talent is matched only by his ability to misread a room. Together, they could form a duo: Rage Against Reality under the banner Artists without Talent.

Or maybe Bob could join Greta Thunberg on her next anti-carbon, high-carbon yacht voyage across the Atlantic. He could provide the soundtrack while she glowers meaningfully at passing container ships.

It would be remiss not mention the irony so rich it could headline its own comedy set: Bob Vylan, who calls for the death of Israeli soldiers, borrows his stage name from Bob Dylan, a Jewish icon who not only proudly embraced his heritage but spent time on a kibbutz in Israel and performed there multiple times. Dylan, the original voice of protest and poetic resistance, used his art to challenge injustice without ever calling for blood. He embodied complexity, not crude sloganeering. That Vylan would co-opt Dylan’s name while championing a cause that vilifies Jews and Israel is more than tone-deaf, it’s the kind of unintentional satire even Dylan himself might have turned into a song.

Bob Vylan isn’t a movement. He’s a moment. And like all moments built on moral posturing and empty slogans, it fades, leaving behind nothing but a confused booking manager and a crate of unsold “merch”. But lest he despair, I’m sure that he’ll take comfort in the fact that he has so many new followers on X, there’s always corporate consulting, or at the very least, a new flavour of ice cream to name.