Prophets of Rage represent a dying breed: a dedicated protest act from a previous era at a time when pop music is not exactly known for its revolutionary spirit.  These are scenes from their time on the ground in Cleveland.  Monday, 1 p.m., The Agora Theater  The members of Prophets of Rage sit on a sagging couch and unglamorous folding chairs backstage as they plot various appearances throughout the day: a daytime concert for End Poverty Now in an undeveloped lot, a march from there toward the convention (or as close as the police barricades will allow) and a surprise appearance, with bullhorns and a boombox, at the Public Square plaza downtown.  The Battle of Cleveland: Prophets Of Rage vs The RNC cont. CLEVELAND PUBLIC SQUARE 5:45PM TODAY #NoSleepTilCleveland pic.twitter.com/hcNbCq0lWr  They want to make a ruckus. But Mr. Morello, in a Trump-red “Make America Rage Again” hat, is realistic about the potential for impact.  “What if the crowd is thin?” someone asks.  Mr. Morello replies: “If it’s thin, we’ll make our own mosh pit.”  Nor does he care that other brand-name performers seem to be absent for the proceedings.  “It’s not my job to look around and see what bands I might convince to come play a show,” Mr. Morello, 52, says, adding that he preferred to “fire up people who have convictions but are not motivated yet to express them in their political life.”  In lieu of more youthful musical upstarts, the often thankless job of marching and shouting will be left to stalwart activists like him and Chuck D of Public Enemy.  “Youthful energy is a wonderful thing but it has to be coached,” Chuck D, 55, says. “Our job is to guide the energy.” He is tending to a sore neck with a pain patch.  Monday, 3 p.m., End Poverty Now Rally  “Hello Cleveland,” Mr. Morello shouts from the stage. “Thank you for coming out today with your joy and your militancy.”  His guitar reads “Arm the Homeless,” matching the provocative signs in the crowd of a few hundred people: “Mein Trump,” “America Was Never Great,” “We Need to Overthrow the System.”  At the empty field about three miles from the convention, a man in military fatigues rocks out alongside Code Pink protesters and bouncing shirtless men. “Y’all feel powerful or what?” B-Real asks from the stage.  After an abbreviated set, the band helps lead the march deeper into downtown, pausing along the route to take selfies with fans. The two-mile walk is peaceful and orderly. But Mr. Commerford, the bassist, summoning his past confrontational spirit, stares down the heavily armored police officers biking alongside the protest. He carries a sign reading “I’m an anticapitalist anarchist and I love you!”  Protesters block traffic as they march toward GOP convention. Now about a half mile away. Large police presence. pic.twitter.com/36u5WHOokR  Back in the van afterward, Mr. Morello can’t help but rave. “You mad-dogged 75 ‘Ninja Turtle’ death troopers by yourself!” he says. “You showed them what a real soldier is.”  Supporters of Donald J. Trump voiced their approval of his policies at a rally Monday. At a separate gathering, protestors decried what they see as his racism.  Monday, 5:45 p.m., Public Square  Having separated from the march, there is some fretting about the size of the scattered crowd at the plaza. But a representative for the band tells Mr. Morello that a group of about 30 from the protest is on its way.  “Those 30 will be all we need,” he says, grinning. “Jesus had 11.”  From behind barricades demarking a free-speech zone, where anyone can sign up for a 30-minute slot at the microphone, Prophets of Rage run through a lo-fi, boombox-led medley of its protest songs, including “Can’t Truss It” and “Killing in the Name.” About 100 onlookers bob their heads and occasionally raise fists in solidarity.  Monday, 9:30 p.m., At an Art Gallery  Once again unannounced, Mr. Morello appears with an acoustic guitar at a small art space on the second floor of a darkened shopping mall. “The struggle continues,” he says.  Taking the stage amid tables of punk zines and homemade patches for a crowd of a few dozen, he acknowledges that the performance was “kind of a preaching to the choir show” but nonetheless leads the audience in a passionate rendition of Woody Guthrie’s “This Land Is Your Land.” He urges fans to put their phones down and live in the moment. People do.  Tuesday, 6 p.m., Back at Agora  After an afternoon of on-camera interviews, the band members rest before their show at the theater. Fans are already lined up outside.  As Donald J. Trump seeks to position himself as a “law and order” candidate, there are echoes of Richard Nixon, a candidate who sought to do the same in 1968.  Despite only modest crowds at the protests and the lack of any real contact with Republicans, Mr. Morello remains steadfast in his enthusiasm and positive messaging.  “It’s a very, very short list of people who have it in their DNA and in their soul to show up for daily grass-roots activism,” he says, commending his bandmates in Prophets of Rage for their willingness to touch pavement. “These guys are willing to show up.”  Still, during a down moment backstage, he sighs: “Saving democracy is not an easy business.”  Neither is commanding attention. At a simultaneous charity show at the nearby Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, the largely apolitical pop group Third Eye Blind lights up Twitter with its adversarial remarks to the Republicans in the crowd.  Third Eye Blind tonite at #RNCinCLE event: We believe in tolerance, acceptance (Followed by boos) pic.twitter.com/WPRIEMZmEp  “Raise your hand if you believe in science,” the band’s lead singer, Stephan Jenkins, says, drawing boos — but ultimately also plaudits and headlines for his flash of punk spirit.  Prophets of Rage, meanwhile, face an entirely friendly room eager to mosh and scream along to aggressive anti-establishment songs written two decades ago.  Taking the stage, fists up, to the sound of a siren, Chuck D announces that Mr. Trump was just formally nominated as the Republican presidential candidate. The crowd responds with all it can at the moment, raising middle fingers to the sky.  A picture caption on Thursday with an article about protests by musicians at the Republican National Convention referred incorrectly to the performer Chuck D. He is a member of Public Enemy, not a former member.  A version of this article appears in print on July 21, 2016, on page C5 of the New York edition with the headline: Fighting the Power, With Feet on the Ground and Music in the Air. Order Reprints| Today's Paper|Subscribe
The group, with members of Public Enemy, Rage Against the Machine and Cypress Hill, formed with the announcement “Dangerous times demand dangerous songs.”