It’s the song of the summer, the hottest track on the airwaves right now. A jam. A bop. And it’s playing everywhere all around you. Every party. On the streets. In your own house. You know every word, every beat, every key change.
But what’s different about the 2022 song of the summer, or at least how we’re doing it over here at The Prompt, is that it’s not even a song at all. The song of the summer is something else, equally ubiquitous and inescapable. A trend. A moment. A THING. We asked our staff writers—what’s the song of the summer, but it’s not actually a song… and here’s what they had to say.
Why listen to three minutes of the same song over and over when you can get down for nearly 20 hours to the beat of justice (or at least what we hope are steps towards justice)? Listen to witnesses testify and you’ll feel like you’re standing in the warm, brilliant sun as the truth is shoved out of darkness.
Have you heard the Cassidy Hutchison or Josh Hawley “hawling for his life” remixes? They’re total bangers everyone can enjoy (unless you’re a 40 to 70-year-old man who has taken the Fifth Amendment a copious amount of times. Then I’m sure they’re the most devastating tracks on your heartbreak playlist).
I’m going for a classic and you can hate me for it but…
3:33 in Cicada Season in the forest.
Okay, hear me out: 3:33 is the original too-cool-to-be-a-song-song, but the cicada remix on decks every summer is overwhelming in its orchestra of noisy instrumentalists (insects) tuning their songs to the infinite possibilities of their affection.
3:33 in Cicada Season is the love remix this summer needs.
Trading in your COVID anxiety and doom scrolling for Monkeypox anxiety and doom scrolling is THE song of the summer.
The chorus is your brain exploding after making the mistake of reading Twitter discourse over monkeypox and the sound of your tears when you realize how fucking stupid some people are.
The sleeper hit no one heard coming from your stream hole: Sounds of Silence.
2020 2022. There are viruses that’ll kill you, a political landscape that sucks ass, (blah blah blah) baseball (blahbitty blah blah), the god damn Blue Devils are likely to win the DCI championships again, and everything else annoys you. Turn off, tune out, unplug, unsubscribe from every podcast, go outside, and don’t listen to anything. Save your mind and your soul.
After that, put on some punk or Norwegian black metal and engage in some primal scream therapy.
The song of the summer is wearing your fanny pack over your shoulder and around your chest.
OH YOU HEARD THAT ONE IN THE SPRING? Well aren’t you so ahead of trends!
Now, it’s the summer and that shit is bopping off EVERYWHERE, like all overplayed, still kinda catchy songs of the summer do. Even that guy in your office who wears New Balances is getting in on it.
My personal song of the summer is orange, as in, I am in my second orange period of this lifetime. The first came in high school, when Steve Madden made platform sneakers a thing. “My sister and I were talking,” my friend Christine said, “about how your wardrobe has gotten progressively more orange ever since you got those shoes,” pointing down to the yam-colored clunkers on my feet.
Everything old becomes new again, and here in 2022 we have a platform shoe revival, and while mine are no longer orange, my tracksuit, Birkenstocks, and nylon shorts are. Tangerine Dream 2.0
When you think of the Song of the Summer, you typically think of an upbeat banger. And those songs do dominate the summer, typically. But sometimes, a sad song grabs us at the right moment and its power is just undeniable. And 2022 is one of those anomalous years when the Song of the Summer is a bummer. That’s why I’m listening to the investigation of police conduct during the Uvalde School Shooting on repeat.
What’s your song of the summer* that’s not really a song? Join in the conversation on Twitter to chime in!