march 2011
the newsletter for Nuçi’s Space, a nonprofit musicians’ support/resource center
Connecting through Music
T
he evening “bedtime routine” at my household for our 2½ year old daughter consists of her helping to clean-up all of the toys flung around the house and gathering all of her stuffed animals and a blanket to put into the crib with her. However the final request of the night, at least for the past several months, has been for her mom and dad to sing “Wheels on the Bus” and “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.” Per her request, “Wheels on the Bus” is always first and sung by “Daddy.” I gained this distinct privilege by being “silly” and occasionally singing the song as each of her stuffed animals; Walter (her favorite fluffy, brown rabbit), Jean Luc (the slightly effeminate puppy from France) and Gator Big (a very long, skinny alligator from southern Louisiana). I’ll let your imagination determine how their singing voices may differ. Fortunately, my rendition of “Wheels” gets high marks in the form of giggling and proclamations to my wife, such as, “Daddy’s silly!” Just as we finish our clapping and cheers for “Wheels on the Bus,” our daughter quickly grabs her blanket, lays her head on the pillow and gently asks–“Mommy, Twinkle?” This is our queue to switch places near the head of the crib and for my wife to take the lead on singing “Twinkle.” The timbre of her voice is gentle, comforting and healing. She sings to her in the way a lullaby is intended to be sung. At the song’s conclusion, we simple say “Good night” and “We love you.” **Disclosure: The above scenario is my idealized version of our “bedtime routine.” I choose to ignore the more accurate version that includes her uncontrollable crying and mini-tantrums when she’s told that it is “night-night time.” My motivation for thinking about our routine came from reading Daniel Levitin’s book, “The World in Six Songs: How the Musical Brain Created Human Nature.” Unfortunately it is impossible to fully explain the premise for Levitin’s work in this column. However, the following passage from the book’s introduction may help:
“The World in Six Songs explains, at least in part, the evolution of music and brains over tens of thousands of years and across the six inhabited continents. Music, I argue, is not simply a distraction or a pastime, but a core element of our identity as a species, an activity that paved the way for more complex behaviors such as language, large-scale cooperative undertakings, and the passing down of important information from one generation to the next. The book explains how we can better understand the role that music has played in our species by thinking about six kinds of songs. They are songs of friendship, joy, comfort, knowledge, religion and love.” I am most intrigued by the role “comfort songs” play in our daily lives. It is widely known that a baby’s auditory system develops much faster than vision, recognizing the sound of their mother’s voice long before they can visually distinguish her from other adults. The use of ‘song’ strengthens this bond even more so. The repetition, rhythm and melody of ‘song’ add an element of predictability that speech alone tends to lack. Simply put, predictability can be comforting and soothing. Two types of “comfort songs” that are a little less obvious include music for the disenfranchised and sad music. For instance, when teenagers feel misunderstood, cut-off and isolated from the rest of us, they may find an important ally in a lyricist that has written about similar troubles. I can confirm that this was true for me as a “disaffected” youth and it is still true today when I listen to the songs our Camp Amped kids choose to play in our after-school program. Sometimes we all just want to know that we fit in somewhere and that all the things that we think and feel are normal. The other less obvious “comfort song” is sad music. At first blush, we may ask ourselves, “Why would anyone want to listen to sad music when they are sad?” Levitin’s research shows that prolactin, a tranquilizing hormone, is released when we’re sad. He states, “Sorrow does have a physiological purpose and it may be
nuçi’s space by
Bob Sleppy
an adaptive response, which is to help us conserve energy and reorient our priorities for the future after a traumatic event.” It is suggested that sad music allows us to “trick” our brain into releasing prolactin in response to the feelings induced by the music, and the prolactin then influences our mood in a positive way. The less scientific explanation of “Why would anyone want to listen to sad music when they are sad?” is quite simple. Those who are sad or suffer from clinical depression often feel completely isolated and misunderstood. Listening to “happy music” in this state of mind can be especially irritating, compounding those feelings of depression and isolation already present. The connection that a person may feel to a musician or lyricist may also help explain why talk therapy is vital in the treatment of depression. The connection found between two people, even when it’s just a stranger’s voice in a song, is an important first step towards feeling understood and getting better. Music plays a very important role in my life. I use the music and expressive genius of others to help guide my own mood and how I relate to the world. Despite the presence of all Levitin’s “Six Songs” in my life, I am most connected to “comfort music.” The soundtrack of my life is filled with songs that have helped to get me through some very difficult times as well as to celebrate my best moments. My hope is that our daughter will learn the power of “comfort music” from her parents. I may regret this wish as I hear angst-ridden, “I hate my parents” music blaring from her teenage bedroom. But I’ll be happy to know that at least the twentyyear-old boy with eyeliner and a fauxhawk singing the song make her feel a little better that day. As a back-up plan, while I listen to my wife singing “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” to our daughter at bedtime, I’ll be thinking of how to pull off an angst-ridden rock song as a stuffed alligator, with a southern Louisiana accent. Fortunately, I have a few years to practice.
396 Oconee Street Athens, GA 30601 706.227.1515 space@nuci.org www.nuci.org
Newsletter Contributors
Bob Sleppy Will Kiser Laura Ford Matt Hudgins Lesley Cobbs Photos
Pam Keener Desiree Grigsby Jason Thrasher Design & Layout
Larry Tenner