Saturday, July 11, 2015

The Soundtracks of Our Lives


I awoke this morning to the sound of Elaine Stritch belting out, "Here’s to the Ladies Who Lunch” from the Broadway show, Company. She wasn’t in my bedroom, of course. Nor was her voice coming from the radio or iPod. The sound was playing quite clearly in my head. I have no idea why.

 

This sort of occurrence is not unusual for me, especially when I'm not waking to an alarm. Sometimes, like this morning, a specific performance comes to mind. Other times it’s a particular piece of music, but not a specified rendition. Not all selections are high-minded. For example, the Purina Cat Chow jingle from their 70s television commercials makes periodic appearances. 

Music has accompanied me through life as far back as I can remember. If I pause during the day to consider what’s playing in my head, it might be anything from a magnificent symphony to whatever Muzak was playing on my last trip to the supermarket.

I was relieved to learn the term “earworm" a while back, not because I like it (I don’t) but because if society had come up with a label for this phenomenon, it meant I wasn’t the only one experiencing it. I wonder sometimes if pervasive involuntary musical imagery like mine is a musician thing or perhaps a indication of an auditory learner. Do visual artists awaken with particular colors or paintings in their awareness? 

I miss the days when I could call my dad with some obscure piece of chamber music in my ear that I couldn’t place. I could sing a theme fragment to him over the phone for instant identification. (Occasionally, he would go on to gently point out that I was singing it in the wrong key.) 

My mom once revealed to me that dad’s entrance exam to the Eastman School of Music, where he earned his Master’s Degree, included a listening portion in which excerpts were played of pieces that were not widely known. Candidates were not expected to name the pieces, but were asked to place each example in the correct musical period (baroque, classic, romantic, etc.) and suggest a possible composer of the work, based on its musical characteristics. My father, legend has it, identified each piece correctly, down to the Opus number. I can scarcely fathom the elaborate concerts which must have played in his mind on a daily basis.

My own internal performances tend to be less noteworthy. It’s as though someone installed a personal version of Pandora software in my brain. I don’t consciously control the selections or sequence, but they are clearly influenced by my history, and a “thumbs down” from me does not guarantee that we will immediately move on to something I like better. Often, ads or other interruptions are jarringly louder than my music.
 
I have been known to whine about not being able to turn off this music, especially when the soundtrack is cloying or just plain annoying, but there are far worse things to have on a loop in your mind. Imagine the terrifying internal sounds that might awaken a war veteran with PTSD or a young person whose PTSD is from the war within her own home.

Of course, not everything floating around in my mind is music. I re-live arguments, complete with some of the things I wish I had said in place of what I actually said. I also rehearse future conversations, including many that never play out in person. I ponder questions and worry about the state of our world, fully aware that worrying doesn’t help.

I wonder if there are ways to consciously influence our personal soundtracks? (Who knows, that may be the basis of my own Master’s thesis one day.) I have found that a regular meditation practice seems to lower the volume and level of chaos in my mind to something I can more easily deal with and helps me focus.

I’d love to hear from others about your personal soundtracks. Do inventors or entrepreneurs have so many new ideas flying through their heads that there is little room for music? I know that some composers hear their own music before they write it down. Do architects and designers “see” things in their minds much of the time?

Do the voices of parents, ancestors, or other authorities ever offer you internal guidance or instruction? (If so, do you find this helpful or troublesome?) Do you ever hear your own voice - speaking, singing, laughing, crying? Do you hear new songs? ...or old refrains?  I invite you to share something of your personal soundtrack in the comments.

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