Not only is it part of our identity as Americans, it is also the song to whose tune the world has been saved time and time again throughout this century. Like the flag it celebrates, it ought to make us turn inward and contemplate everything America means to us. Instead, it makes us cringe. We are treated, predominantly by female performers, to a kind of musical stream of consciousness and to the belting out of assorted high notes, apparently chosen at random. Worse yet is the utter disregard for rhythm or time.
Every note takes as long as the performer's momentary frame of mind dictates.
What emerges is something you would hear from a person inebriated to the point where her drivers license might be suspended for good. If the original is Class B, the renditions we get today are sheer musical nonsense. In the opinion of such Americans the very idea of national identity is to be opposed or suppressed. As for singers who wish to display their vocal range, or the reserve capacity of their lungs, they can choose from thousands of vehicles in the literature of opera and song. Improvisation has always been highly valued in the realm of music, but not as a replacement for the original.