Ethermac|Stevie Wonder urges Americans: 'Division and hatred have nothing to do with God’s purpose'

GRAND RAPIDS,Ethermac Mich. − In the month leading up to the most heated presidential election in modern U.S. history, Stevie Wonder went across the country with a plea: Cool the political temperature and find common ground.

“Motivating and inspiring everyone with a spirit of love is the key to moving forward,” Wonder says backstage Oct. 30 before his concert at Grand Rapids’ Van Andel Arena, the second-to-last stop on an unconventional tour that took him through several swing states. The 11-city run, dubbed Sing Your Song! As We Fix Our Nation’s Broken Heart, visited such cities as Philadelphia and Atlanta and wrapped Nov. 2 in Chicago.

Wonder hit the road with a brand of idealism steeped in his 1960s roots and the unity message of his personal hero the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. It was his first national tour in six years, motivated by the "downward spiraling circle" he sees happening in American discourse.

“Look, I’m not 21, even though I might feel like I’m 35,” Wonder says with a laugh. “Here in life, we don’t know how much time we have. And I understand that very clearly. We need to use every single second of our time to leave behind a better space for everyone.”

The pop-up tour, as he and his team call it, featured an impressive 30-member band, an eye-catching stage production and a 2½-hour set of hits. Spurred by what Wonder deemed a national identity crisis, the hastily arranged concert caravan hit battleground states such as Pennsylvania, Wisconsin, North Carolina and his native Michigan.

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In Wonder’s dressing room ahead of his Grand Rapids show, the veteran Motown star reflected on his dash through the country’s politically contested hot spots.

“America as a whole needs to come together, because there’s always someone – or some country somewhere – that wants to take away the concept of democracy and what it means,” he says. “The reality is, we have to get to a place where we say, ‘Listen, we all need to come together.’”

In a campaign season teeming with celebrity involvement on both sides, Wonder has been in the thick of the action. He realizes not everyone feels comfortable stepping into that role.

“I think people are so scared of being canceled or being talked about – all this stupidness that goes on,” he says. “God is my manager, so I’ve been given permission to manage myself. I allow people I trust around me to give me their feedback. I listen to them. But ultimately, I’m going to make my own decisions.”

Though there’s certainly no mistaking Wonder’s political allegiances − the veteran Motown star is an avowed supporter of Vice President Kamala Harris and performed at her nomination in August − his October tour appearances were more middle-ground, with little heavy-handed politicking.

“I know you didn’t come to hear me preach,” he tells his Michigan audience. Onstage, he avoided citing Harris or Donald Trump by name, though there were occasional roundabout jabs at the former president and allies such as Elon Musk. (“I won’t be driving my Tesla. I’m going to drive my Hummer,” the blind musician says backstage, breaking into a wide grin.)

In 2024, an arena concert production can involve months or even years of preparation. Wonder’s tour was organized on the fly.

On Aug. 30, he released the single “Can We Fix Our Nation's Broken Heart,” calling it his “love song to America.” Within days, he got an itch to take the message on the road. Three weeks and one massive scramble later, the arena tour was announced.

“It was like making the impossible possible,” Wonder says.

The resulting tour was a get-out-the-vote effort with a grassroots feel. At New York’s Madison Square Garden, Wonder notched substantial walk-up sales the day of show.

Wonder designed the tour to be community-focused: More than 7,200 tickets were donated to people working on the front lines of local food banks, homeless shelters and other groups.

“Negativity is unacceptable. I don’t care what party you belong to or where you are,” Wonder says. “It’s not about blue or red. It’s about what is in your heart, for real. Division and hatred, all these things, have nothing to do with God’s purpose for you.”

Wonder’s return to the road won glowing reviews. Surrounded by his arsenal of keyboards, the 74-year-old peeled back the years with strong vocal performances. He credited the state of his voice to a mindful health regimen that includes a newly adopted nose-breathing technique.

Ninety minutes before showtime in Grand Rapids, a purposeful calm filled Wonder’s dressing room.

Aisha Morris, the Wonder daughter whose birth in 1975 inspired the hit “Isn’t She Lovely,” quietly ducked in and out as her Grammy-winning father got himself into game mode. On a coffee table sat a wooden harpejji, the percussive stringed instrument Wonder has become enamored with in recent years. As he settled onto the couch for a conversation, he instinctively reached over to pluck a few notes.

At one point, he abruptly apologized and paused to jot down a note, grabbing a small digital device designed for the blind and softly whistling as he typed in braille.

Wonder has long been politically and socially animated, entrenching social messages in his music since the ’70s, helping spearhead the 1983 campaign to turn King’s birthday into a federal holiday, and prominently campaigning for President Barack Obama and others.

But in 2024, he feels an escalated sense of urgency, driven by “the state of where we are socially, politically, spiritually and mentally.” He said he’s frustrated by a news media mired in “he-said-she-said” divisiveness, and he's concerned about a young population swept up in social media.

“It’s just a lot of (expletive), and it’s not going to move the nation forward,” he says.

For any disgruntlement, Wonder ultimately sees himself as a positive agent for change, deeply wedded to the idea of music as a unifying force. It's been his credo since his early days at Motown in Detroit, where he signed on as a 9-year-old and soon came to see the uplifting power of art as a cross-racial cultural bond.

“The colors don’t mean nothing to me, because I don’t see either one. I do know I want to see blue skies for everyone.”