Let me tell you a story about how, for the past few weeks, I have been irrationally angry over a punk song.
The song is called, simply, "Flag."
It's not a technically complicated piece, consisting of a single, four-bar phrase that is repeated without alteration for the song's entire two-and-a-half minute duration. The riff itself might be passable in other contexts, but it certainly isn't capable of carrying the entire piece on its own. One would think it behooves the band to learn a third chord or, perhaps, bandy about the idea of a melody, but, alas, such lofty goals seem yet beyond their current aspirations.
Lyrically, the song doesn't fare much better. There is only one lyric to the song, and it is dutifully repeated at the end of every phrase. A message so important that all other instruments must drop away so the audience may hear it clearly; a single word, shouted by all four members of the band simultaneously in an atonal mélange of human voices: "Flag."
The best reference point for this style of composition might be The Champs' seminal surf rock instrumental "Tequila." The comparison is flawed, however, in that "Tequila" has several things going for it that "Flag" does not--most prominently, being enjoyable to listen to.
And that's not even to mention the lack of a cohesive message to the song. As a punk track from a respected artist, it's not outlandish to assume the song might come with some actual, you know, message to it. Could it be an anti-imperial protest track? An indictment of violent nationalism? A reckoning with the modern world's history of bloody conquest?
But no, the song seems afraid to offer even the mildest of political takes, instead settling for a vague public awareness of the concept of 'flag;' any additional meaning is left to be inferred by the generous listener.
And that is the most irksome aspect of this tawdry number: for all its punk rock aesthetic and instrumentation, it fails to say anything at all--and a punk rock song without a message to it is surely the most soulless, tedious, and empty exercise in musical commercialization imaginable.
Still, I'm forced to admit that all of this might be forgivable if it was an unreleased demo track by some unknown band, perhaps making their first tepid forays into rock composition.
But no, even that haven eludes me as, "Flag" is not only a professional release, but the lead single off the band's sophomore album--and according to Spotify numbers, their single most-listened to track across 2022.
It is an utterly abhorrent blight upon my musical awareness; a coldly nihilistic exercise in musical commercialization; an utterly inexplicable piece of rock ephemera that will haunt me until my dying days.
I hate this song with a burning passion that even I can recognize as wholly unreasonable.
And the worst part of it all is that the song doesn't even have the decency to actually exist.
There was no inciting event that made this song so present in my mind, no basis in another musical piece that might have given it shape and form; it simply jumped into my head one day, fully-formed and designed for maximal personal frustration; every detail surrounding it rendered in complete resolution, save only the artist's name and a recording of the song itself.
That is what makes this my own private hell.
And that's all it might have been, if I hadn't been possessed to open my big mouth about it.
I stewed in irrational hatred over this song for about two weeks before finally telling my wife about it. We both shared a good laugh over my bizarre fascination, and then we each moved on with our days, seemingly no worse for the wear. I felt a bit lighter for having shared my experience with someone else and had found some validation in how silly the whole thing was. If things had ended here, I might not even be writing this now.
But that's not what happened.
Over the ensuing days, I began to have dreams about the song--dreams of it being performed before massive, writhing audiences; all crammed and moshing before a concert stage with obscured performers; each chanting loudly with euphoric conviction the song's single lyric: "flag." My visions of the performances had started to grow even longer at this point, evolving into hours-long, ritualistic ceremonies, where the band members on stage would repeatedly collapse from exhaustion, only to be replaced by clambering members from the audience, each eager to pick up an instrument and to help see these hallowed incantations to some kind of completion.
What that conclusion might be, I still cannot say.
To most of you, I'm sure it just seems like some localized fascination--the result of stray neurons firing in novel and unpredictable ways, resulting in a, perhaps, unhealthy amount of obsession. However, there is ultimately no actual harm brought into the world.
But here's the thing: I'm no longer the only one within its grasp.
The same night I had told her about it, my wife admitted to me that she had been thinking about "Flag" all day. It had made her angry as well, and she'd been distracted from her work mulling over intrusive details of the strangely irksome song.
And it didn't stop there. Over the course of composing this short write-up, she confessed to me that she had been collecting punk music samples in order to recreate some version of this song, with the stated intent of releasing it onto the Internet. Given how musically talented she is, I'm inclined to treat this threat as legitimate.
The truth is that the song has already begun attempting to manifest itself, and I doubt anything I do now could stop it.
I'll be honest: I'm not exactly sure what the point of writing this piece is. It's no longer a warning--it's clear the song is far beyond my capacity to control it at this point. Hell, my entire compulsion to write of my experience might just be more of the song's influence. I no longer trust my conscious mind to tell the difference between its desires and my own.
All I know is that I must discover what "Flag" truly is--whether it be a banner of warning, or a herald announcing some greater force to come.
And it is no longer a burden I must bear alone.
