In 2017, during my freshman year of high school, my dad introduced me to a song that would stick with me: “Handlebars” by Flobots. Released back in 2009, it wasn’t exactly new, but this time, it resonated deeply. I played it endlessly and delved into Flobots’ entire discography.
Fast forward to 2020, my senior year, and the world felt… different. The optimism surrounding the new decade vanished as we faced a global pandemic, widespread social unrest sparked by racial injustice and police brutality, devastating wildfires, and the tragic loss of Kobe Bryant. Adding to this, an economic downturn loomed, jobs were disappearing, and an air of uncertainty hung heavy. The timeline of these events might seem jumbled, and 2020 often felt surreal, almost apocalyptic, especially considering it was also an election year. The parallels to 1920 were striking: then, it was the fight for women’s suffrage and the Spanish Flu pandemic, another election year shadowed by economic hardship. History seemed to be rhyming, and not in a pleasant way.
The Coronavirus pandemic brought daily life to a standstill. While some regions began to reopen, prioritizing economic recovery over public health (some states rushed ahead), others demonstrated a more cautious and effective approach to managing the crisis. It was unsettling to witness state governors often displaying more competent leadership during the pandemic than the President of the United States.
The 2016 election saw Donald Trump, a reality TV personality and businessman, ascend to the presidency, a moment that shocked many. The subsequent four years were turbulent. Now, in another election year, amidst a pandemic, the situation felt chaotic. In my view, President Trump’s handling of the Coronavirus pandemic was deeply inadequate. Initial denial, followed by downplaying the severity, and eventual, inconsistent responses characterized his approach. Even when addressing it, his administration often contradicted scientific consensus from experts like the CDC, Dr. Birx, and Dr. Fauci, promoted unproven treatments like Hydroxychloroquine, and included figures with questionable scientific credibility in his task force.
You might wonder what all of this has to do with a song I heard in 2017, the echoes of 1920, or my assessment of presidential leadership. The connection, surprisingly, lies in the prescience of “Handlebars” by Flobots. Released years before these events unfolded, the song acts as a chilling allegory for the Trump presidency. Genius Lyrics describes the song as being “about the independence we have once we’re free to choose our paths,” drawing inspiration from “the corruption of the 20th century and the change that it brought about.” Flobots’ MC Jonny 5 explained that the song explores “the idea that we have so much potential as human beings to be destructive or to be creative.”
This concept of potential, of the duality of human action, is central to how many view politicians. They can be forces for good, acting in the best interests of the people, or they can be detrimental, causing harm and division. President Trump, a president who was impeached and not removed from office, embodies this destructive potential. His abuse of power has created divisions and damage that will take years for America to overcome. “Handlebars,” released five years before his election, serves as an unnerving soundtrack to the current political climate in the United States.
The opening line, “I can ride my bike with no handlebars,” immediately evokes a feeling of youthful invincibility. Learning to ride a bike without handlebars as a child is liberating, a symbol of newfound freedom and control. Similarly, President Trump, empowered by his office and surrounded by loyalists, appears to operate without restraint. His ego, amplified by his position, is constantly reinforced by a cabinet of “Yes Men” who prioritize praise over critical feedback. Vice President Mike Pence’s Coronavirus briefings often exemplified this, frequently beginning with phrases like, “At the president’s [blank],” consistently praising Trump rather than simply delivering factual updates. This echoes the feeling of power and ego associated with riding a bike with no handlebars, but in a political context, it becomes a dangerous form of unchecked authority. This unchecked power fuels authoritarian tendencies, such as questioning election results, suggesting election delays, and using force against peaceful protestors for a photo opportunity.
The first verse of “Handlebars” further illustrates this point:
“Look at me, look at me
Hands in the air like it’s good to be
Alive, and I’m a famous rapper
Even when the paths are all crooked-y
I can show you how to do-si-do
I can show you how to scratch a record
I can take apart the remote control
And I can almost put it back together
I can tie a knot in a cherry stem
I can tell you about Leif Ericson
I know all the words to “De Colores”
And I’m proud to be an American
Me and my friends saw a platypus
Me and my friend made a comic book
And guess how long it took?
I can do anything that I want ’cause look—”
Trump’s public pronouncements often reveal a preoccupation with his own popularity. A CNN headline during a Coronavirus briefing highlighted this: “Trump as the U.S. nears 150,000 Deaths: “Nobody Likes Me”.” The Trump presidency often seems driven by a need for validation rather than a genuine desire to improve America, despite his campaign slogan, “Make America Great Again.” His actions, such as encouraging aggressive policing against Black Lives Matter protestors, suggest a regression rather than progress. The lyrics in this verse, boasting of various skills and accomplishments, mirror Trump’s self-centeredness and inflated sense of capability. Lines like “I can show you how to do-si-do/I can show you how to scratch a record/I can take apart the remote control/And I can almost put it back together/I can tie a knot in a cherry stem…Me and my friend made a comic book/And guess how long it took?/I can do anything that I want ’cause look—” capture the boundless energy and self-confidence of a child showcasing new skills. Trump, similarly, seems to believe in his own omnipotence, attributing any perceived positive changes in America to his leadership. The lyric “I can tell you about Leif Ericson” could be interpreted as a reference to his connections with controversial figures and allies, while “I know all the words to “De Colores”” might represent his self-professed patriotism and supposed deep understanding of the US Constitution.
The first chorus of “Handlebars” can be viewed through the lens of those critical of Trump’s presidency. The lyrics include:
“And I can see your face on the telephone
On the telephone, on the telephone”
” And I can see your face on the telephone” can be interpreted as a commentary on Trump’s prolific use of Twitter. His constant tweeting, unprecedented for a president, dominates news cycles and social media. His Twitter activity generates trending topics, breaking news alerts, and endless online discussion. It’s almost impossible to escape his omnipresent digital footprint. The cartoon below visually captures the global reaction to Trump’s Twitter usage, illustrating the controversy and widespread attention it generates. Whether you are on social media or simply follow the news online, you are likely to encounter Trump’s image and his pronouncements.
A Cartoon from the New Yorker that shows Trump showing North Korean Leader, Kim Jong Un Twitter from 2017
This analysis, started in August, remains unfinished. As I complete it now, it’s Monday morning, and the urgency of the message remains. The lyrics are repetitive, but the message is clear. Please, exercise your right to vote. Your voice matters.
Vote on November third. Seriously.
