DJ-T and the Presidential Playlist: What Music Reveals About Leadership Style
There’s an old saying that you can tell a lot about a man by the company he keeps. I’d argue you can tell as much by the music he listens to.
Or in Donald Trump’s case, when everybody’s listening, again, and he doesn’t care.
At Mar-a-Lago, Trump controls the sound system from his iPad like a general commanding artillery. Regulars call him “DJ-T,” and apparently the nickname isn’t ironic. According to Axios, the playlist never changes. Same songs. Same order. Every single time. Elvis. Lionel Richie. Phantom of the Opera. Guns N’ Roses. And, quite interestingly, the James Brown and Pavarotti duet, reminding us what it would be like if Vegas and the Vatican had a baby.
One insider described Trump’s mind as operating in “titanium tubes.” Open one, and he riffs until he’s done. The playlist is the same way. He won’t adapt to the room. The room must adapt to him.
Politics aside, that’s a type of leadership style. Centralized command. Message discipline through repetition, repetition, repetition. Setting the tone and never wavering. Every song is theatrical, dramatic, larger than life. It’s not background music, it’s a production.
Compare that to George W. Bush.
In 2005, the New York Times got hold of Bush’s iPod playlist and found something surprisingly normal. Country heavy: George Jones, Alan Jackson, Kenny Chesney, mixed with Van Morrison’s “Brown Eyed Girl” and John Fogerty’s “Centerfield,” which was often played at Texas Rangers baseball games, back when Bush was a team owner. About 250 songs total on a device that held 10,000.
Here’s the thing: Bush didn’t download any of it himself. His aides did. His media strategist picked half the songs. Bush just put in his earbuds and went mountain biking.
When asked about the playlist, one of his team of curators said, “No one should psychoanalyze the song selection. It’s music to get over the next hill.”
That’s Bush’s whole leadership philosophy in one sentence. Delegate to people you trust. Don’t overthink it. Keep moving. Heart rate to 170, eyes on the horizon. The critics called it incuriosity. His supporters called it resolve. Either way, the playlist was fuel for the mission. Nothing more, nothing less.
Then there’s Obama.
Every summer since 2015, the man has released a carefully curated playlist, as if he were dropping an album. Twenty-five to thirty tracks, spanning everything from Kendrick Lamar to Zach Bryan, Beyoncé to indie folk, Afrobeats to country. The diversity is almost aggressive. There’s something for every demographic, every constituency, every coalition.
People doubt he actually picks the songs himself. He insists he does. In 2017, he joked about applying for Spotify’s “President of Playlists” job after leaving office. Spotify responded by posting an actual job listing requiring “at least eight years’ experience running a highly-regarded nation.”
Obama’s playlists read like campaign strategy: thoughtful, measured, deliberately inclusive. Cultural diplomacy through curation. The dude who did his homework and wants his professor to know it. Critics called it calculating. Supporters called it brilliant. Either way, every song choice was a message.
And then there’s Bill Clinton.
This gets interesting. Clinton is the only modern president who actually plays music. Not just listens but performs.
He picked up the saxophone as a kid, practiced daily, and won first chair in the Arkansas All-State Band. At sixteen, he seriously considered going pro. He later wrote that he decided against it because, while he knew he could be good, he’d never be John Coltrane (but who the hell has?).
So, he just became president instead. Reasonable backup plan.
Clinton played sax with Clarence Clemons at his inauguration. He sat in at a jazz club in Prague with the Czech president, dubbing their newly formed band, “Two Presidents.” He owns vintage Selmer horns and two original instruments built by Adolphe Sax himself. The man is a legitimate collector and player who still practices regularly.
For Clinton, music wasn’t consumption. It was creation. Improvisation. Reading the room and adjusting in real-time. Jazz leadership…listen, respond, collaborate, solo when the moment calls for it.
His critics called it slick. His supporters called it gifted. But there’s no denying the skill required to sit in with professional musicians and not embarrass yourself. The same skill, maybe, that let him connect with people across every divide.
The controller, the delegator, the strategist, the improviser.
Four presidents. Four playlists. Four completely different relationships with leadership and sound.
When you feel the weight of the world is on your shoulders, what do you listen to?
Tegan Broadwater is an entrepreneur, author, musician, former undercover officer, podcast host, and positive change-maker. His popular book, “Life in the Fishbowl,” details his two-year, deep undercover operation that took down 51 violent Crip gang members. All profits benefit children of incarcerated parents.
Learn more about his latest projects at TeganBroadwater.com