Image Credit: Simon Oxley
Stuck on Repeat—But Why Now?
There’s a peculiar phenomenon taking over our collective minds—and no, it’s not just doomscrolling or overcaffeination. It’s earworms. Those maddeningly catchy bits of music that hijack our brains and loop endlessly until we’re mentally scream-singing “It’s the End of the World As We Know It” in the middle of aisle seven at Home Depot. But recently, there’s been a noticeable uptick in these sonic intrusions. Coincidence? Or is our mental jukebox spinning faster in times of stress?
WHAT ARE EARWORMS, ANYWAY?
Technically known as Involuntary Musical Imagery (INMI), earworms are snippets of songs that lodge themselves into our subconscious and refuse to leave. According to Wikipedia—the go-to academic source for strange mental phenomena—98% of people experience them. And the majority of these uninvited melodies? Songs with lyrics. Which makes sense; nobody’s spiraling over a stuck Prokofiev piece while shopping for drywall screws.
The phenomenon is so universal that it’s inspired everything from scholarly research to pop psychology clickbait. The Washington Post even dropped a seasonal guide to “deworming” yourself. Remedies include everything from chewing gum to doing puzzles to—ironically—listening to the very song haunting your mind.
STRESSFUL TIMES, LOUDER TUNES
So why are earworms louder and more persistent now? One theory: they amplify during stressful periods. In an anxious world full of economic instability, political chaos, and emotional burnout, earworms might function as an unconscious coping mechanism—our brain’s weird way of distracting us from existential dread.
Consider recent events:
- Kendrick Lamar’s “Not Like Us” swept music award nominations.
- YouTube celebrated its 20th birthday, rekindling the dreaded echo of “Gangnam Style.”
- Elections looming? Cue “Livin’ on a Prayer.”
It’s as if the cultural moment is a DJ spinning comfort songs—whether you asked for them or not. Some people turn to meditation; others involuntarily replay Queen’s “Under Pressure.”
SCIENCE TRIES TO CRACK THE CODE
Researcher James Kellaris has studied earworms extensively. His work suggests that men and women experience them equally, but they tend to last longer and be more annoying for women. As the article jokes, this might feel like being forced to watch The Godfather on loop during a long-haul flight with no turbulence but endless Vito Corleone.
Then there’s the fascinating question of why some songs stick more than others. According to a group of researchers cited in the Mirror, five key variables make a song “worm-worthy”:
- Receptiveness – How open your brain is to being hijacked.
- Predictability – A sense of pattern and structure.
- Surprise – Just enough variation to stay interesting.
- Melodic Potency – Memorable tunes.
- Rhythmic Repetition – The beat goes on…and on…and on.
Their equation goes:
Receptiveness + (Predictability – Surprise) + Melodic Potency + (Rhythmic Repetition × 1.5) = Earworm
In simpler terms, anything by ABBA or the Baha Men.
THE HALL OF FAME: TOP EARWORMS
Scientists at the University of St Andrews even dared to compile a Top 20 Earworms list. Unsurprising inclusions:
- Taylor Swift’s “Shake It Off”
- Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’”
- Michael Jackson’s “Beat It”
- And reigning supreme: Queen’s “We Will Rock You”
There’s a reason these songs linger. They combine rhythmic simplicity with universal appeal—songs engineered to echo in the coliseum of your cranium.
WHAT IF OTHER SENSES HAD WORMS?
One of the more imaginative turns in this essay asks: Why only earworms? Why not noseworms, eyeworms, or tasteworms?
Imagine:
- Noseworm: You smell lilacs in the middle of a subway station.
- Eyeworm: You hallucinate Halle Berry watering your plants.
- Mouthworm: Cauliflower transforms into filet mignon.
As funny as this sounds, it gets at the strange neurological specificity of earworms. Of all the senses, sound is the one that loops. Vision doesn’t loop. Smell fades. Taste disappears. But music—music lingers.
STARS HAVE EARWORMS TOO?
It gets weirder. According to Science Alert, stars experience earworm-like activity through what astronomers call “starquakes.” These involve “frequency signatures” that might even reflect a star’s history. While no one is suggesting Venus is secretly into Bananarama, the metaphor is oddly poetic. Even the cosmos may be echoing to its own silent soundtrack.
EARWORMS IN REAL LIFE
The essay recalls a personal anecdote: the writer once took a hydrofoil from the U.K. to Belgium, a journey so dicey it could have inspired an existential crisis. But instead, what lodged itself in his brain was John Denver’s “Annie’s Song.” The juxtaposition is perfect. You fill up my senses… but please don’t fill up my lungs.
Later, at a PetSmart of all places, amid casual conversation about global turmoil and trade wars, the only thing that comforted him—perhaps involuntarily—was the song playing as he walked out: Queen and David Bowie’s “Under Pressure.” The perfect accidental anthem for uncertain times.
EARWORMS AS APOCALYPTIC SOUNDTRACKS
It’s hard not to notice that most people don’t get earworms when relaxed, happy, or focused. They hit when you’re:
- Stressed
- Anxious
- Distracted
- On edge
That’s why earworms may be a cultural barometer. When the world feels like it’s teetering, our internal Spotify hits play on whatever offers vague familiarity. Like musical muscle memory, we default to comfort choruses and nostalgic anthems.
This theory—that earworms are implanted by an invisible, benevolent DJ to manage stress—isn’t as far-fetched as it sounds. Music is a universal pacifier. Babies respond to lullabies before they understand language. And adults? We hum “Bohemian Rhapsody” in the middle of chaotic airports.
SO… WHAT NOW?
What should we do about this Spring 2025 earworm epidemic?
Maybe nothing. Maybe, like hiccups, earworms are simply part of our biological weirdness—annoying, persistent, and slightly humorous if we just accept them. They are the sonic lint of the mind.
And perhaps that’s the deeper message here. As the world careens into ever more uncertainty, maybe having “Don’t Stop Believin’” stuck in your head isn’t a curse. Maybe it’s your brain begging you to hold on to something that feels familiar. Maybe it’s reminding you that, yes, life is stressful—but hey, at least we’ve still got music.
So the next time your brain hits repeat on “Y.M.C.A.” or “Shake It Off,” take a deep breath and let the beat play. Maybe it’s your mind’s way of saying: “You got this—even if the playlist is cursed.”
Conclusion: The Chorus That Carries Us
In the end, earworms might just be the sound of collective survival. They’re not always welcomed, but they’re rarely random. In their own persistent, looping way, they provide a sense of continuity, rhythm, and even humor in otherwise overwhelming times.
So the next time you catch yourself singing “Who Let the Dogs Out?” during a crisis—smile. That ridiculous chorus might be doing more for your sanity than you think.
