Category Archives: Music

The modern caveman

One of the first cases discussed in “Musicophilia” — Oliver Sacks’s tome on the interaction of music with the brain — is a fellow who was hit by lightning while standing in a phone booth. In the months after the incident, he started to “hear” original classical music playing in his head. Though he’d never been musical before, he became obsessed with this music, taught himself how play the piano and eventually performed it in concerts.

As Sacks notes, Mozart had a similarly fluid relationship with music — the music just played in his head, already composed, and he just had to write it down. Mozart, of course, was not hit by lightning. He was, however, forced by his father to endlessly practice music, starting in early childhood, when the brain is most receptive to learning. So this opens up an interesting question: did getting hit by lightning affect the same neurological changes as practicing music over and over for thousands of hours?

It’s probably too complex question to answer with yes or no, but I suspect the answer is basically yes. This opens up an interesting idea: that we can “create” geniuses by altering the physiological structure of the brain (through chemicals, electric stimulation, intense psychotherapy etc.) I suspect, as time goes on, similar feats will be possible with other parts of the body. As we master steroids and muscular development, it will be very easy for a 98 pound weakling to turn into Charles Atlas.

This leads to a disconcerting thought. In the future, perhaps everyone will be capable of acts that can currently only be performed by an elite few in our society. And citizens of the future will look back at the people of our day in the same way we look back at brutish Neanderthals. Teachers may even stand before the students and say things like, “To see a perfect historical example of the blathering idiots that populated our past, you need look no further than [your name here.] This drooling moron could barely comprehend the simplest calculus theorems, had no chance of lifting the thousand pound weights we now use for light exercise, and could not compose even the simplest poly-harmonic sonata.”

To which the children would probably reply, “Wow, [your name here] sound like a real douchebag!”

And the teacher will say, “Yes, [your name here] was a real douchebag. Now, come children — let’s run a 30 second mile while devising variations on a theme written by Ornette Coleman!”

“The Runaways” reviewed

About six months back, “The Runaways,” the movie biopic about the all girl 70s rock ‘n roll band of the same name, was released, and I found myself with a mild interest in seeing it. This is partly because I’m a lukewarm fan of the band — their bluesy rock sludge was certainly a lot better than most of the dreck released by riot grrl bands of the early 90s. I’ve also, in recent years, done a lot of reading about the music scene in 1960s to 80s Los Angeles, and it’s from that stew that The Runaways emerged. Their manager, Kim Fowley, is quoted in pretty much every book one reads related to LA music from that era.

I finally watched the movie last night on Cable onDemand. The verdict: not bad, but not really great. Part of the problem is this is a story we’ve seen a million times — naïve rock band is plucked from obscurity and handed fame and wealth which they primarily snort up their nose or down in copious bottles of alcohol. There’s always something entertaining about such debauched tales, but they pack less and less impact with each viewing.

I also thought Lita Ford, guitar player for The Runaways, got shortchanged by the movie. Her character is only shown in passing, and only to belittle our sensitive protagonist: lead singer Cherie Currie. Now, I’ve no doubt that Ford probably was a real twat back then, but more so than Currie or rhythm guitarist Joan Jett? I doubt it. And Lita was certainly deserving of recognition for her musical talents — to this day, she’s one of the great female guitarists*. But Ford ultimately veered towards a career in heavy metal, a genre of music the pseudo-bohemian “artists” who populate much of the filmmaking industry despise. (Joan Jett is an executive producer of the film, and that might have affected the characterizations.)

* Of course, this status is partly because most female guitarists are so lame.

One interesting bit of trivia: Robert Romanus, the actor who played the wheeling and dealing “Damone” in “Fast Times at Ridgemont High,” has a small role as a guitar teacher in the film. I haven’t seen that guy in years, but he’s got a very particular presence, easy to recognize. I looked him up on IMDB, and discovered that he had a role in “Foxes” the only movie that Cherie Currie — in her bid to transform herself from a singer to an actress — ever appeared in. This coincidence clearly indicates some kind of divine power guiding the universe.

The pigeons speak!

Pigeons force Kings of Leon to abandon concert

Rock band the Kings of Leon have been forced to end a concert early after pigeons defecated on them from the rafters of a US venue.

The rockers abandoned the gig in St Louis after three songs when bass player Jared Followill was hit in the mouth and face by pigeon droppings.

Drummer Nathan Followill later apologised to fans via Twitter, saying “it was too unsanitary to continue”.

It’s pretty clear these guys are a bunch of pussies. Motorhead would have had no problem playing through an onslaught of pigeon shit.

It dawned on me while reading the story that, while I had heard of the band, I had never heard any of the Kings of Leon’s music. I dug some up on YouTube, obviously hoping that it was deserving of pigeon poop. I was not disappointed. It’s utterly forgettable, middling fifth-generation grunge. Say what you want about pigeons, but they have excellent musical taste.

Wasted effort

I have to say: the more I learn about and think about how the brain understands and uses music, and the more I think about how our appreciation of music is related to various contexts like our culture, our emotional state etc. the more I think the work of the esteemed rock critics like Robert Christgau and Lester Bangs* is a complete waste of time. It’s almost tragic. It’s like these guys that write 300 page treatises on the semantics of the Klingon language. On one hand, the required intelligence and attention to detail is very commendable. But it’s just not real.

* You could argue that Bangs transcended his topic — he wasn’t really writing about rock music as much as using rock music as a starting point to discuss the insanity of life.

(Some might read this post and see signs of an indefatigable ego at work. It could be construed that I’m saying that I’m more intelligent than these rock critics, and I know the truth whereas they don’t. I haven’t put much thought into it, but that sounds about right.)

Music, language and baby brains

As I may have mentioned, I’ve been greatly enjoying the Charlie Rose brain series, in which the esteemed Mr. Rose spends an hour interviewing various neurological experts about the workings of the human brain. I recently watched the fourth episode (viewable at the link) about the development of the brain during childhood.

We’ve all heard that the best time to get someone learning a second language or musical instrument is before the age of seven. Scientists are beginning to fully understand why this is. As you may know, brains are made up of brain cells, called neurons. Neurons connect to other neurons via synapses. A child’s brain actually has more synapses than an adult — it’s basically sitting there waiting to be wired up to knowledge. Why do you start to shed synapses past the age of seven? They didn’t really address that, but I would presume that your brain starts to say, “It doesn’t seem like you’re using these synaptic connections, so I’m going to trim them down for efficiency.”

Something interesting mentioned on a previous episode was that for stroke patients, the brain plasticity of childhood is sometimes reintroduced. Basically your brain says, “Well, this stroke has pretty much fucked you, so I’m going to give you some time to rewire your remaining equipment for better performance.” Within a short time frame, however, brain plasticity is turned off again. So it’s important to try and restore function to stroke patients quickly.

Those of you who were not immersed in language or musical education at an early age might be wondering why your parents denied you the experience. Obviously it’s because they hated you and wanted to block every opportunity that would have allowed you to better yourself. Now would be a good time to call them up and scream obscenities at them.

Brahms on the creative state

I’ve been digging up a lot of information online about classical composition, and came across this page collecting Brahms’ thoughts on the topic. A lot of it is music theory specific to the era — analysis of the sonata form or rules for modulation etc.. Then there’s a section on “inspiration and creativity” with material like…

All truly inspired ideas come from God, and the consciousness of being inspired by him. Your religiosity will make you more conscious and aware of that fact, and of the fact that God is nearer to you than the others in your craft, and that you can consort with him without fear.

Even if I wasn’t an atheist, I would balk at this blather since it takes credit away from me — the guy doing the work — and hands it over to God who is sitting around on a cloud all day.

It does get more interesting a few points down, however.

When the urge to compose is present, appeal directly to the Maker and ask him the three most important questions pertaining to our life here in this world — whence, wherefore, whither? This appeal will immediately manifest feelings of vibrations that will thrill your whole being. These are the Spirit illuminating the sole power within, and in this exalted state, you can clearly see what is obscure in your ordinary moods; then you feel capable of drawing inspiration from above, as Beethoven did.

Most of the time you have to be or will be in a semi-trance condition to such results.

The dreamlike state is like entering a trancelike condition — hovering between being asleep and awake, you are still conscious but right on the border of losing consciousness, and it is at such moments that inspired ideas come.

This does tie in with some thoughts I’ve been having about the “creative state.” I’ve earlier discussed my belief that when your brain is in a focused state, it’s actually “shutting down” unnecessary brain functions, and actually using less “brain resources.” And I agree, as Brahms states, that when you get that creative flow going, ideas just seemed to pour out of you. I obviously don’t think this is because you have some antenna to God, but I do think you’re tapping into some part of the subconscious which is always working out problems. Brahms was right that it’s a meditative or trance like state (many have commented on the fact that you seem especially creative right when you’re waking up.) Perhaps Brahms, while focusing on his religiosity, was clearing his mind of unnecessary brain activity, allowing the subconscious to bubble up to the surface. If I could develop a means to enter this state at will, I would truly be unstoppable, and the world would shake at my power.

The death of CDs

An interesting article about the music biz at The Root contains this nugget.

According to the latest Nielsen research, only 2.1 percent of the albums released in 2009 sold even 5,000 copies — that’s just 2,050 records out of nearly 100,000, and to fewer people than go to a small liberal arts college.

That sounds about right. I pressed up a thousand copies of my CD (as is pretty much common practice for independent acts.) 300 of them went to the distributor and are, I presume, sitting in a warehouse somewhere. I’ve sold, I dunno…, maybe two or 300, and sent off a hundred or so to radio stations, music reviewers etc. Friends of mine report similar experiences. This leads me to think that most of the CDs that are sold in packages of a thousand remain in their wrapping.

In the late 90s, when people were talking about the advent of digital music, I was one of those who complained about the loss of the physicality of a product — the jay card, the album art etc. But, when I left LA, I burned as many of my CDs as possible onto my iPod, and gave the discs away. I can’t say I miss the physical product at all, and I love having a gigantic music collection in a tiny little box. I’m pretty much at the point where I think musicians should just stop making any physical product, and simply sell the music online (you could sell cards granting download access to the music at live shows.) CDs, cassettes, records and whatnot just don’t make sense anymore.

It’s interesting… I was just talking to a friend of mine who (barely) makes a living doing music about where the money is. It’s certainly not in recordings, and probably never has been aside from those rare exceptions we all know about. He makes his living playing at theme parks, weddings and background music type gigs. It can be a pretty consistent source of income, but obviously has a low ceiling — you’re never going to make $100,000 a year.

The truth is, most of these musical mediocrities polluting the airwaves should just kill themselves to avoid obscuring geniuses such as myself.

Lou Reed booed offstage

I have mixed feelings when it comes to Lou Reed. I think most of the Velvet Underground material is garbage. And a lot of his solo stuff leaves me cold. But a couple of his late 70s/early 80s albums — often panned by critics — are fantastic: great lyrics and eclectic but still rocking rock.

I’m also, having read much of rock critic Lester Bangs’ writings, familiar with the fact that Reed released an experimental album called “Metal Machine Music” which Bangs praised (not necessarily an indicator of greatness.) Apparently Reed is back to playing material from that album and it’s not going well.

Recently he has been touring his controversial album, Metal Machine Music – a work so noisy and abrasive that for years many thought it was a joke.

However, there weren’t any punch-lines at this gig, which attracted more than 1,000 fans – some paying almost $100 (£62) for tickets. The concert consisted of just four instrumentals plus encore, according to the Globe and Mail, with “no singing … [and] no rhythm section”. The only sounds were Anderson’s violin and keyboard, Zorn’s alto sax, and Reed’s electric guitar. In an interview earlier that day, Reed had gleefully promised a “fearless night of non-rock”, “100% improvised”.

So it didn’t take long for the first boos to come. Initially, these complaints were misinterpreted as calls for “Louuuuu!” but soon the fans became more direct. “Play some real music!” one called.

“Yes, there were those who claimed to enjoy the cacophony of discordant noise lacking melody, style, beauty or skill,” replied one Gazette reader. “[But] to label it correctly, it was pure elitist, pretentious rubbish.”

I decided to track down some “Metal Machine Music” on YouTube. It’s about what you’d expect.

This is your brain on gambling

I’ve mentioned that I recently finished reading the book “How We Decide” about the processes and functions the brain uses to make decisions. One interesting anecdote in the book was about Parkinson’s patients. Parkinson’s sufferers who were on a drug that saturated their brain with the neurotransmitter dopamine experienced a high rate of addiction (about 13% I believe) to gambling. The reason being that when a person receives unpredictable awards, they get a dopamine rush. (“Awesome! I got a bonus on my check!”) And gambling is all about unpredictable payouts, so, when triple sevens come up, the brains of these Parkinson’s patients, already saturated and dopamine, get an incredible high.

It struck me a few days ago that this is comparable to techno music at a rave. Techno music has a tendency to carefully build a pulse, panning it across the stereo spectrum, slowly increasing volume until !WHAMMO! everything is kicked up a notch and scantily clad teenage girls frantically wave their glow sticks in the air. The anticipation while predicting when that moment is going to occur, is very similar to the anticipation one experiences at a slot machine. And like these Parkinson’s patients, many people at raves have taken a drug, ecstasy, that has primed their dopamine for release.

Trolley tangents

Pretty much the only Eddie Vedder song that I really like is a tune called “Hard Sun” on the “Into the Wild” soundtrack. I was listening to it last night while riding on the trolley, and I started to realize that the song sounds a lot like that really famous Blind Melon song… the one with the bumblebee girl in the video. You can actually hum the Blind Melon song over “Hard Sun” and there are various floating vocal and instrumental melodies in the latter that sound somewhat reminiscent of melodies from the former. So I was sitting there wondering if the reason I’ve always liked “Hard Sun” is simply that I’ve always liked that Blind Melon song.

At the same time on this trolley ride, I was occasionally glancing over at this pretty cute Hispanic girl. And I started to notice that she looked a bit like this older Hispanic chick who works at the local Albertson’s. I realized there was an interesting parallel between these two thoughts — “Hard Sun” was reminiscent of the Blind Melon song, and this chick on the trolley was reminiscent of the chick who worked at Albertson’s. And just as these women might theoretically share the same ancestor (of course, we all ultimately share the same ancestor, but I mean a little closer up the family tree) both the Eddie Vedder and Blind Melon songs share musical ancestry, in the sense that all modern pop music fundamentally evolved out of the same gene pool.

So then I started thinking about how we perceive these vague shades of similarities in people and objects and art. I would be curious as to whether listening to similar songs would cause specific neurons to fire in your brain. And whether the same is true when looking at people who appear similar. Do you have specific neurons or synaptic connections responsible for a particular chord change, or a tilted nose? That’s probably oversimplifying things, but the gist is there.

Hey — here’s something interesting: I looked up some information on this “Hard Sun” song and it turns out that Eddie Vedder didn’t even write it — it’s a cover. So I can revert to my former opinion that Eddie Vedder is a talentless moron.