A Folk Protest Trilogy: Unpacking Armando Heredia’s “If We Were A Band”
Armando Heredia, operating under the pseudonym “If We Were A Band,” has delivered a powerful triptych of folk protest albums, all released in 2025 by ArmandoCreative, LLC. This collection—The Ladies at the Station, Pass It Down, and Collective Unease—offers a compelling journey through contemporary societal anxieties, leveraging a raw lyrical style and profound emotional depth.
The Ladies at the Station: A Lament for Liberty
Published first, The Ladies at the Station sets a poignant tone, immediately immersing the listener in a landscape of disillusionment and fading ideals. The album’s emotional merit lies in its palpable sense of loss and fear, particularly evident in tracks like “Daytime Monsters.” Heredia personifies societal ills as “monsters wear[ing] red, sometimes / Red hats, red ties, red teeth, red eyes”, highlighting a shift from hidden prejudice to overt aggression. The lyrical style is direct and accusatory, challenging listeners with lines such as, “Why are the monsters the masters again / Who opened the gate, and let them in”. This directness fosters a sense of urgency and shared concern.
The social impact of The Ladies at the Station is significant in its allegorical portrayal of American ideals. The title track, “The Ladies at the Station,” is a particularly striking example. Here, the Statue of Liberty is “sent back to France” and “Liberty is a foreign concept”, while Hope applies for asylum and Charity is followed by an imposter. These powerful metaphors depict a nation abandoning its foundational principles, with Uncle Sam transformed into a “creepy uncle Sam in the blue suit and red power tie”. “New Plantations” further amplifies this, directly criticizing the exploitation of immigrant labor and drawing parallels to historical injustices, declaring, “America is for Americans, while you build your new plantations”. The assertion that “the economist is the new racist” for prioritizing profit over human dignity drives home the album’s core social critique. “Not To Belabor the Point” continues this critique of cheap labor, with pointed questions like, “Where could we get a / labor force, ten million strong, overnight”, suggesting a disturbing undercurrent of exploitation. The mention of “raids for days” paints a grim picture of immigration enforcement.
Pass It Down: Incendiary Truths and Fragile Realities
Pass It Down, the second album in the collection, deepens the emotional and social commentary with a more introspective yet equally scathing lyrical approach. The emotional merit of tracks like “Incendiary Remarks” lies in their raw indictment of those who sow discord while feigning innocence. The lyrics, “You and your incendiary remarks / Like an arsonist playing with sparks / And You’re so surprised / that your world’s on fire” effectively convey a sense of exasperation and warning. The repeated phrase “Like a tourniquet / around your neck / Cutting flow to the brain” serves as a powerful metaphor for self-inflicted harm through ignorance or malice.
Lyrically, Pass It Down is rich with cutting metaphors and direct accusations. “A Little Fragile” is a searing critique of fragility disguised as strength, directly referencing modern political symbols (“red hat”, “flagstika”) and historical prejudices (“burning cross”, “hoods to hide and burn their crosses”). The line “if bitterness has fruits, it’s probably got roots” highlights the systemic nature of bigotry. “Americore” dissects American exceptionalism and the inherent urge for dominance, with repeated emphasis on the idea of superiority “by the virtue of his Americanism”. The song challenges the notion that self-worth is tied to the assertion of power over others, stating, “If He does not assert himself, / somehow He is worth / less / which is one space away / from being ‘worthless.'” The phrase “Thank you, Sir, may I have another,” from “The Magnum Opus,” directly references the hazing scene from National Lampoon’s Animal House, a clever nod to enduring hardship. “Can’t Win For Losing” captures the struggle of the working class, with vivid imagery of “working 70 hours / In the oilfield, pushing tools on that morning tower / But it’s still just not enough”. The song’s emotional core lies in the quiet desperation of a parent trying to provide, even when facing insurmountable odds. The personal anecdote of the father on “interstate twenty” adds a deeply personal and relatable touch. “Stained Glass Heart” offers a counterpoint of resilience and beauty found in brokenness, suggesting that “beauty starts / At The break” and that “Love, love is where the light shines through the stain”. “Trudge” and “We’re All A Little Anxious” delve into themes of emotional isolation, depression, and anxiety, with “Trudge” using powerful imagery of being a “mountain” or a “valley” to convey the weight of these struggles. “We’re All A Little Anxious” cleverly uses metaphors like “Fear Pretends to be an Ocean and / Hate pretends to be a mountain” to describe the pervasive nature of societal anxieties. The reference to “absolute madness may be / Just might be my only hope for sanity” offers a darkly humorous take on coping mechanisms
Collective Unease: The Unraveling of a Nation (Coming Soon)
The final album, Collective Unease, acts as a culmination, exploring the pervasive sense of instability and the consequences of widespread deceit. Emotionally, the album captures a feeling of shared apprehension and a struggle for authenticity. “Unbroken and Unfazed” provides a resilient opening, emphasizing perseverance despite adversity: “But tomorrow we’ll still be standing, tattered but unfazed”.
“How Upper Echelon of You” cynically critiques power structures and the illusion of meritocracy, highlighting how “We’re graded by our shade or hue / By our wage or status”. The “blue power suit / Red tie, and Windsor knot” evoke a familiar political archetype.
The lyrical style of Collective Unease is sharp and incisive, often employing repetition for emphasis. “The Unraveling” vividly portrays societal decay, with the “landslide” serving as a direct nod to the Fleetwood Mac song, symbolizing irreversible decline. The imagery of “Snow blind by the sun that you prayed for” and “all the riches of the world couldn’t buy / your way back again” evokes a sense of irreversible consequences.
“Don’t Fake It” is a powerful call for authenticity, warning against the pitfalls of superficiality: “Don’t fake it til you make it / Be real / Cause if you’re faking it / You’re still just a fake”. The comparison to the “reality show mentality” and the stark declaration “The emperor / Has / No / Clothes” underscore the album’s rejection of pretense. The title track, “Collective Unease,” captures the intangible but pervasive sense of anxiety that defines modern existence, describing it as an “underlying condition / Overtaxing our existence”.
The mention of “Aaron is telling us the news / It’s breaking, breaking / Everything is broken” directly references Aaron Parnas, the TikTok and social media personality known for his unbiased reporting, acknowledging his role as a crucial, independent news source in a fractured media landscape. “Nefarious (Shut Up and Dance)” explores paranoia and the fear of speaking out, highlighting how “They’re nefarious, nefarious / Always on the prowl”. The internal conflict of “I’m not a dancer, I’m a slave to this melancholy music in my mind” reveals a deep sense of powerlessness. “Feeling Sad” expresses a profound disappointment in societal division, articulating the struggle to connect with others who hold opposing viewpoints: “How did it get so bad? Like we’re / So caught up in what we think / That we can’t think anything else / At all”.
Promise Made Promise Kept documents ICE raids with chilling specificity, namechecking Trump-era figures like “bulldog” Tom Homan. The bilingual refrain (“Que pasa? / We can’t stand to see it”) underscores California’s Mexican roots, while juxtaposing Promise Keepers (family values) with Oath Keepers (white supremacy) exposes hypocrisy.
Finally, “Tiny Fists” is a heartbreaking plea for innocence and a condemnation of adult-driven conflict, stating, “Tiny babies don’t wage war / For that we must blame ourselves”. “Cutting Truth” serves as a fitting closer, questioning the very nature of truth and the spread of misinformation: “What if everything you believe is a lie / What if everything you say’s a lie is true”.
A Cohesive Collection
Taken as a collection, Heredia’s three albums form a powerful and cohesive statement on the state of contemporary society. The progression from the outward lament of The Ladies at the Station to the more internal anxieties of Pass It Down and finally to the overarching sense of societal fragmentation in Collective Unease demonstrates a thoughtful and deepening exploration of his themes.
Emotionally, the albums move from a sense of public grievance to personal struggle and collective despair, yet always with an underlying thread of resilience and a call for awareness. Lyrically, Heredia employs a consistent style of direct language, vivid metaphors, and allegorical storytelling that is both accessible and profound. The repetition of certain phrases and ideas across albums reinforces their significance and creates a unified narrative.
The social impact of this collection is undeniable. Heredia tackles sensitive and pressing issues—political polarization, racial injustice, economic exploitation, and the erosion of truth—with unflinching honesty. By rooting his critiques in relatable human experiences and powerful imagery, he compels listeners to confront uncomfortable realities. The consistent theme across all three albums, particularly highlighted in “My Fellow Americans,” is the trade of fundamental values for fleeting desires, summed up by the line, “Yeah, Let’s trade the God who made you / for the god you made, and you can call him daddy”. This collection serves as a vital commentary on the contemporary American experience, firmly establishing Armando Heredia as a significant voice in modern folk protest music.
Key Tracks:
- Daytime Monsters (Ladies)
- Stained Glass Heart (Pass It Down)
- The Unraveling (Collective Unease)
- Tiny Fists (Collective Unease)
For Fans Of: Bob Dylan’s polemics, Fiona Apple’s raw nerve, Boots Riley’s surrealism.
“The monsters wear red, sometimes / Now they show their teeth in the daytime.” — Heredia’s epitaph for an era.