Propagandhi are conflicted on At Peace. When Canada’s punk standouts announced their eighth studio album, singer/guitarist Chris Hannah said its lyrics find him unsure whether to respond to society’s failings by acting like spiritual teacher Eckhart Tolle or notorious terrorist the Unabomber. “I am at peace these days,” he howls on the lead single and title track, “give or take a fit of blinding rage!”
It’s understandable why the band don’t know what to do anymore. They’ve been openly antagonising fascist ideologies since they started in 1986, only for that way of thinking to infect mainstream politics over the past couple of years. On top of that, their first new music in eight years came out amidst Donald Trump’s declaring his hopes of making their home country America’s 51st state.
To see how successful Hannah has been at finding comfort amidst the chaos, Hammer caught up with him for a chat about At Peace, as well Propagandhi’s history of sticking it to society’s racists, bigots and oppressors.
- “At first people thought, ‘Knucklehead Americans!’ and now they’re starting to figure it out”: How Five Finger Death Punch silenced the haters with The Wrong Side Of Heaven Volumes 1 and 2
- "Life is short and we need to try to enjoy it, and protect the people and the things that we love. The time to protest will come again.” Punk rock icon Bob Mould is back with an album to get you through another American Crisis
When you were making At Peace, you didn’t know Donald Trump would be re-elected and talk about making Canada the 51st US state. How have recent events affected your relationship with the album?
“It didn’t diminish the effect we were going for. It didn’t diminish the sense of chaos and trying to find a sense of personal or political peace within the chaos. It’s added to it. In the sense of Trump and this 51st state shit, it’s interesting the shift I’ve seen in the average person in my neighbourhood, who previously showed no outward opinion about nationalism or anti-Americanism. People across the country are taking this quite seriously, probably in a similar way that people in adjoining states to Russia, like Finland, are genuinely worried about the regimes that are in power.”
You’ve called At Peace “a snapshot of me deciding whether I’m going to live out the rest of my life as Eckhart Tolle or as Ted Kaczynski”. What does that mean?
“I think everyone’s familiar with the adage, ‘Accept what you cannot change and change what you cannot accept.’ There is a sort of Eckhart Tolle movement to accept what you cannot change. On the other hand, how do you change what you can’t accept in a world where it’s been proven time and time again that nothing will change and, in fact, it will just get worse? That’s where the Tez Kaczynski reference comes from: someone hopeless in despair, and they cannot be part of this. They leave society and attack it from the outside.”
Propagandhi have been openly vegan, pro-feminist and anti-fascist since you started in the mid-to-late 80s. The punk scene was obviously hugely different back then. Did being so outspoken ever feel dangerous?
“It did back then because of the skinhead thing that was going on, specifically in North America and the Southern states. Every time we pulled up to play a show, it’d be like, ‘OK, there are skinheads here. They’re out in the parking lot and they’re going to kill you.’ People would be wearing white power shirts and coming to the shows.”
You used to enjoy that, right?
“It was galvanising. It was like, ‘See? Here’s these fuckers!’ When you’re young and full of energy and have a minor deathwish, there is an excitement to it. But I’ve definitely grown weary of that sort of confrontation and conflict. Those sorts of threats take years of your life if you have to live like that, wondering what’s going to happen.”
Were you ever genuinely scared that a death threat was legit?
“On numerous occasions.”
Do you remember the first one?
“When we first started the band here in Winnipeg, we had lots of problems with the skinheads locally. Somebody from the paper of record here in Winnipeg wrote an article about us – we have a song about the KKK that was active here at the time – and they printed a few quotes from me and the picture of the guy who was the local leader of the KKK. I was like, ‘Holy shit!’ These guys were phoning my house at one point and threatening me. Luckily those people were as bumbling and impotent as I am.”
A neo-Nazi group threatened to protest your Australian tour in 2011…
“Nothing really came of that. Like, there’s skinheads outside our shows or whatever, and it’s kind of unnerving when you’re inside wondering, ‘How far is this thing going to go?’”
By 2011, you’ve cultivated a following and released a good few records, so does the concern for yourself disappear and become concern for your audience?
“Yeah. I think about it more now, because people are bringing their kids to shows. People that grew up with the band are bringing six-year-olds wearing headphones. I think about it more, like, ‘What if someone gets out of hand here? What if someone shows up and tries to do something? There’s literal kids on the stage.’ Thankfully, we play more organised venues than we used to.”
In 2025, it feels like fascist behaviour is becoming more and more accepted in the political mainstream. After fighting against that way of thinking for nearly 40 years, do you think humanity is just fucked?
“I think civilisation is a problem. I think the apex of human society probably existed prior to what we call civilisation. I don’t know how we get back there. We’re gonna get back there, probably not in a way that’s gonna be humane and just, but we are on the road to destroying ourselves and we’re gonna get back there in any event. That’s about as hopeful as I can get.”
At Peace is out on May 2 via Epitaph.
