<p>The phrase was so sonorous and surprising that it became the object of TV jokes and various jokes. No one knew in what sense it had been used (as we will see later, the meaning was much more hallucinogenic than anyone could have assumed), so there were interpretations for all tastes, and it even ended up being introduced into the popular heritage. Not only was it striking, but the initials of what's the frequency were W. T. F., the same used for the phrase what the fuck. Thus, the phrase ended up being the equivalent of what the fuck, Kenneth?, and the very name "Kenneth" was jocularly used as a synonym for foolish or absent-minded, for someone who is not noticing anything.</p>
<p>From common language, the phrase went to music thanks to Michael Stipe, singer of the band R.E.M. He was very intrigued by the process that had transformed an inexplicable incident into a part of popular culture. Assuming that the aggressor had mistaken Dan Rather for some other individual, Stipe said: "This is the main unresolved surreal act of the twentieth century. A terrifyingly random misunderstanding, amplified by the media, and simply shocking. That interest was translated into lyrics, and his fellow band members were in charge of playing music for him. Entitled "What's the Frequency, Kenneth?", it would become the first single on their new album, Monster. It was 1994, and about eight years had passed since the event, but by then the R.E.M.'s were one of the most successful rock bands in the world, so using that phrase refreshed the memory of the incident for a new one. In fact, Stipe did not write the lyrics to describe the Rather affair, but, in his own way, used the well-known phrase to illustrate the disconnect between the mentality of a middle-aged person and that of the younger ones. In Spain, of course, the title sounded even stranger to us. I remember hearing it well for the first time; I had no idea about the Dan Rather incident, and the title of the song seemed strange to me, but the incomprehensible lyrics were common in R.E.M., so I thought "What's the Frequency, Kenneth?" was just another one of their meaningless occurrences. In any case, I liked the song, and I still do, a lot.&nbsp;</p>
<p>As a curiosity, the recording of the song itself was also uneven. Although it's difficult to perceive if you don't pay attention, you might notice that the rhythm is a little slower in the final part than in the beginning. This is quite surprising, because the opposite is the norm, that you try to accelerate a track towards the end, as this helps to reinforce the sense of climax, and it also happens naturally when you record live. The slight, but perceptible, slowing of the song was an anomaly. And it turned out that the R.E.M. had not purposely sought it out. It was bassist Mike Mills who started playing slower as they recorded the take. The others, including the drums, settled in at their own pace. They also noticed that Mills' face was adopting a strange grimace. When they finished playing, it was evident that the bass player was in intense pain. He was taken to the hospital, where he was diagnosed with appendicitis and underwent emergency surgery. When he recovered, the group already had a scheduled tour and never returned to the studio to re-record the song, which stayed that way, and so it was released on disc. When you hear the final part, then, admire the fact that poor Mills was able to play his part until the end, while he was twisting in sudden pain. Another curiosity, this time referring to the videoclip, is that the guitar that Peter Buck was wearing had belonged to Kurt Cobain, who had taken his own life a few months before. His friendship with the members of R.E.M. was notorious, and Courtney Love gave the old one to Buck. He wore it in the video clip as a tribute, although he had to play it upside down and with the strings changed, because Cobain's guitar was for left-handers.</p>
<p>The Monster LP was number one in the United States and some other countries, repeating the enormous success of the band's two previous albums: Out of Time, which had made them a first-rate attraction thanks to the international bombing of "Losing my Religion" (the oldest will remember that it sounded, everywhere!), and Automatic for the People, which had consolidated that impact thanks to songs like "Man on the Moon" or the ballad "Everybody Hurts". So, for R.E.M. to title a theme with the phrase pronounced by the man who had attacked it had to reach Dan Rather's ears. Maybe some expected the presenter to take it badly, because it was known that he had quite a bad temper behind the scenes, which caused him problems with his superiors on more than one occasion. But that didn't happen: Rather said he liked the song very much and also praised the rest of the album, describing it as "monstrous", in reference to the title of the album itself.</p>
<p>Not only did he take it well, but, some time later, he agreed to appear with the band on television, singing some verses of the song himself. Poor Rather did what he could; it's obvious that music wasn't his thing, and it's funny to see Michael Stipe marking his entrances with a "one, two, three, for", and gesturing for Rather to get the lyrics in on time. In any case, Rather can hardly be heard. First, because, visibly nervous, he sings at the side of the microphone and not in front of it (we're talking about a TV presenter, so he did it more out of fear than out of ignorance). And secondly, because the technicians had set the volume very low, perhaps foreseeing that he would start at first with some rooster. Well, Rather had no sense of melody or rhythm, and he certainly seemed overwhelmed by the idea of appearing on screen with one of the most famous bands on the planet, but in doing so he showed a good sense of humour. The appearance took place in the program of David Letterman (years ago, he had been the first to give the R.E.M. the opportunity to appear on national television), who did not announce what the spectators were going to see, and limited himself to presenting the mini performance saying: "Watch this and tell me if it is not something strange". It was certainly a touching moment.</p>
<p>When Dan Rather and R.E.M. appeared together singing the song the mystery about the attack remained unsolved, but news was coming. Rather had never been assaulted again, so it was an unpleasant anecdote surrounded by a fascinating halo of urban legend, but with no major consequences... unless public opinion knew.</p>
<p>A couple of years later, a journalist named Frank Bruni revealed the alleged identity of the attacker in an article published by the New York Times: "For a decade," Bruni wrote, "the phrase What's the frequency, Kenneth? evolved from an incomprehensible statement made during an unexplained crime (...) to the core of folklore kitsch, immortalized as the title of a popular hit by the rock band R.E.M. (..). (...) Some detractors unfairly dismissed it as apocryphal, and it became a meaningless rarity and an unsolved mystery. After a decade of conjecture, Bruni pointed to one William Tager as the perpetrator of the aggression. He had found his identity because Tager had been arrested on another charge - in this much more serious case, a murder - and during interrogations and psychiatric examinations, he confessed that he had beaten Dan Rather. When, as a result of the article, Dan Rather was shown photographs of Tager, the presenter instantly recognized him and declared, "I have no doubt it is him.</p>
<p>William Tager's story left everyone stunned, because it seemed to be taken from a Stephen King novel. If the subject had seemed like a strange mystery, it would become even stranger when it was unveiled.</p>
<p>In 1994, the year the Monster album was released, Tager had tried to sneak into NBC studios in New York. An employee of the network saw him, got in his way and tried to throw him out. Suddenly, Tager pulled out a gun and fired: the victim was shot and killed. When Tager was arrested, the police noticed that he appeared to be suffering from paranoid delusions, so they put him in the hands of a doctor for an expert report. A forensic psychiatrist interviewed him to discover his motivations. And Tager gave aberrant explanations for his aggressions: he claimed that the television networks were getting into his head by broadcasting waves, and all by order of his arch-enemy, the vice president of the world government who ruled in 2265, from which he himself claimed to proceed. He had tried to sneak into NBC to try to find out the specific frequency of the waves with which he was forced to listen to threatening messages coming from the 23rd century.</p>
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<p>His delusions proved worthy of a fascinating science fiction argument. According to his account, in the future he was in prison, while the whole world was dominated by a global authoritarian regime. That government had spent one hundred and fifty years developing an ambitious project to create an interdimensional portal that would allow time travel. When the construction of the portal was finally completed, Tager volunteered to make the dangerous inaugural journey into the past in exchange for his prison sentence being commuted as soon as he was able to return from his trip. To this end, the government subjected him to extensive training. Shortly before embarking on the trip, Tager received a visit from the vice president of the world government, whom he described as "a dark-haired Texan with a smile alien", the true axis of government and the most powerful man in the world. The vice-president warned Tager that he was obliged to return from the past to offer a complete report of the trip; he should not give in to the temptation to remain living in the 20th century, since he had been implanted with a chip that could be used to send messages to his head and thus force him to return. Only if he returned would the chip be removed and he would be offered full forgiveness.</p>
<p>So you can see it was an act of madness that achieved world fame.</p>
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